#killing a snake out of fear is morally wrong.

[fadewalking]

this post is about spiders

I'm scared of spiders just as much as the next guy. I do however, own several of them as pets at this point (hands off, display pets only as my fear keeps me from ever wanting to actually touch one), including a black widow and as of today, a brown recluse. And i know that they're the United States boogey monsters of spiders, but the lack of knowledge around them from the general population is staggering, and im getting kind of tired of it. Every single person in my life has reacted with anger and horror at my perceived stupidity from "Keeping an animal that can and will kill you if given the chance". And very few people are even willing to believe me when I tell them the truth.

Like the fact is that it just isn't true that either spider can kill me. Unless im allergic to them, which would be like winning the lottery (of pain and death), then I as a healthy adult cannot be killed, not even close. I'm not saying they're puppies or anything, they do have a medically significant bite, or more accurately- they can have a medically significant bite. But they can also choose how much venom to deliver in a bite, and they do not want to waste it for something that isn't prey.

Both of these spiders are also incredibly shy, and you have to be actively squishing them to death for them to want to bite at all. If i was bitten by either of these spiders, i would spend an afternoon at the ER, and then go home and for the next few weeks/months (depending on venom amount), i'll be in a good deal of pain while i recover. Is it a walk in the park? absolutely not. But these spiders just.. aren't life threatening. I also don't plan on touching them at all let alone harassing them aggressively enough to get any kind of bite.

[pancake-breakfast]

Finished Day 5 of Disco Elysium.

Now that the autopsy has been completed and Kim is back, the case is moving forward en force, so we're definitely getting into spoiler territory here.

Talked with Kim about the bullet. They make a very sound argument for only allowing front-loading guns in civilian populations. That includes for law enforcement.

Rene passed away. I'm actually kinda sad about that. I gave his friend the old photograph I stole from Rene's guardbooth. I did not steal his uniform.

Painted the wall with the message, "Something beautiful is going to happen." Dunno if it will, but we can hope.

Kim was unimpressed. Spoilsport.

That also marked the second time Cindy gave me something out of sheer pity.

Talked to Klaasje about the murder. Hoo boy, I could write an essay on my interactions with her today. The short version is I actually trust her a lot less now. She's worked in corporate espionage, and I suspect that's actually what she bonded with the victim over, given he had also ruined a lot of lives for pay. (I... have very mixed feelings on corporate espionage and will not be expounding on them in this post.) But I do think she feels bad about all that's happened, and that on some level, she cared for the victim more than one generally would for "just a fling."

I appreciate the way they approached the false rape charges. In my own research, I've found that that sort of charge is very, very rarely drummed up by individuals. Considering the victimizer is almost always someone socially connected to the victim, even when it's true, it can really muck with social circles, and most people aren't willing to explode their social circle for wrongs they think are done solely to themselves. Or, you know, just out of fear that they'll lose part or all of said social circle. The cops, on the other hand, frequently create false narratives around these sorts of things and then actively circulate them, as it discourages anyone from standing up for the person they're victimizing. After all, most people don't want to defend a potential rapist, and if the authority is saying they have "reason to believe" that's what happened, well, it's not like any of us knows all of what happens in another person's life, and it's MUCH more difficult to prove an absence of a thing than fake its presence. And we've already established in game that the Hardie Boys are basically the cops for this area. Basically, the devs did their research and it shows, and this sort of story needs to be told more often because not enough people are aware of it.

I managed to get in cahoots with Cuno. I think this is a good thing, but I'm not placing any bets right now. The world is too much of a freaking powderkeg.

I found a pinball machine!

I also found out you can regain morale by hugging a plushie, which seems pretty legit.

I miiiight have managed to die twice trying the same conversation. What really made me worry, though, is my actions also got Kim killed. New Fear Unlocked: Getting Kim killed and living to know about it.

The fact that I haven't tracked down the last of the mercenaries yet worries me. 2/3 isn't good enough when they're trying to start a war.

Did karaoke. Sang a little song about a little church.

Had to submit to working with Evrart again to find my gun. Words cannot describe how much I dislike working with that guy. He's the type to take good things and turn them into shit because it's profitable for him, and he'll somehow have half the people he's fucking over thanking him as he does it.

Which reminds me, I did hit the only point in the game thus far where I've very much been like, "But what if the other option...?" And that was talking with Joyce about Evrart's plans. As a cop, it was 100% my duty to take a step back and say the choices she made based on that knowledge were hers to make, but as a private citizen? I want to encourage her to cut the head off the snake. The one thing that kept me from going back and redoing that dialog (at least) was the thought of the power vacuum. It's already established that he trades power off with his twin brother, so I have no reason to think the brother wouldn't just weasel in there unless she could off them both. Even then, that's less likely to result in a win for her than it is to result in, say, the Hardie Boys or (shudder) Measurehead filling the gap, and I'm honestly not sure the Hardie Boys are business savvy enough for the position. After all, they've already demonstrated they have a bit of a weak point when it comes to underestimating women, and as much as they might think of themselves as "better than cops," if they had that kind of power, they might find themselves having to strong-arm control. I still don't know if that would be better or worse than Evrart. I don't think anyone does. On top of that, I highly doubt it would result in a win for Joyce, and she may be crazy, but she's not stupid, so I'm not sure I could get her to bite. She probably made the best choice I could hope for by giving up and backing down. It should (theoretically) limit some of the bloodshed.

I'm actually on decent terms with the Hardie Boys now. I don't think they like me, but we've developed a mutual respect. I knew there was a chance we could get here when Hardie himself gave me that key, no questions asked, despite his men razzing me about it. It was... a peace offering of sorts, I think. Or maybe a "take whatever you're hoping to get here and get the fuck out" offering, but that's close enough for me. It's the one time I didn't press for any additional details about something. They told me what they knew about the key later freely and with ease. I didn't need to interrogate them when I got it.

Aside from hitting and passing a Point of No Return with Joyce, I found the Point of No Return trying to hunt down Ruby. I had to back off of it, as I didn't have my gun. I hadn't even sung karaoke yet. We'll try and follow her in the morning.

The hat that automatically makes you more communist amuses me.

I made a lot of progress with the druggies by the church. I still haven't got them into the church, but we're buds and I've been helping Egghead make a good track. It's what Harry would want to do.

Did I teleport to the top of a building? Kim says no, but I think he just lacks a certain amount of imagination.

I found a book that healed my morale! That's a nice change from all the books hurting.

For the first time in who knows how long, Harry got a good night's sleep. That's been a bit of a goal of mine since starting the game, so I'm glad it's accomplished. Hopefully, the lost time won't screw up my search for Ruby too much....

[percy-puppy]

Pairing: Obsessed!Stalker!Ghostface x Reader

Summary: Nobody asked him to, yet Ghostface becomes the God of revenge for you, bringing down everyone who has ever wronged you.

CW: 18+ Content | MDNI | Murder, Gore, Fake Friends, Cheating, Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Knifeplay, Male Masturbation, Reader gets called girl (1) time.

A/N: @mothymunson proofread as always & was the one I just spammed with the idea out of the blue, so… thanks, bestie! 💘

Your friends are getting killed one by one.

It starts with your boyfriend—Leading to you finding out he had an affair with your best friend the whole time.

Your other so-called friends? The whole group knew. “It just wasn't our thing to tell, you know…?” - “What can you do? They just fell in love.” The worst thing? You didn't expect your friends to react any differently.

They always were some fucked up blend of bullying snakes mixed with confidantes, but you kept them close as they are all the friendship you know.

Even if your boyfriend is dead, the betrayal sits deep inside your bones. There is no justice in any of this. Especially with your best friend now getting all the attention as she is “broken-hearted” about losing “her” man.

You're so upset and all alone. Where are your friends? Why aren't they consoling you?

Ghostface.

He sees it all. Has seen it for a while.

He saw your best friend with your boyfriend on his way home… well, to your home.

He heard your friends all laugh behind your back, mock you, talk shit, and make plans that actively excluded you.

He just wants you happy. You deserve it, but your friends are like an infection you don't know how to get rid of and go no contact.

So he does what he can do best.

He removes the diseased meat before it can spread.

Piece by piece.

One by one.

They need to suffer for all the times they made you cry, for all the times they made you think you're unlovable.

And you deserve some peace of mind to close the chapter of this rotten relationship you had—So it starts with a heart in a box at your doorstep.

It's in the cutest box, wrapped like a present. It's your boyfriend’s.

He promised it to you, after all. And since he didn't keep his promises, Ghostface ensures you at least get what you’re owed.

Then they find your best friend with her hands cut off and stuffed down her throat.

She's choking on the fact that she touched what was yours. Somebody say again that Ghostface doesn't have an excellent sense of humor.

But since you're his special girl, he doesn't even stop there. He takes care of you and all those pesky little problems in your life.

And it's brutal.

Bloody.

None of them had a quick death, and fairly, they deserve it.

That college teacher who had it out for you ever since you reported him for his inappropriate comments?

“Somebody” tied him to the back of his car and went on a little road trip with him hauled after.

Shame.

What a shame.

You hate to admit it, but you're glad they're gone. Yes, you're scared you're next cause you don't know that Ghostface does it all for you, but for the first time, you feel free.

If the killer keeps going like this, soon nothing and no one is left from your old life. Maybe, if you make it out alive, you can actually start a new life somewhere new.

And all the while you're going through a moral crisis and worry for your safety, Ghostface has the time of his life.

Killing was never more fulfilling.

He is technically changing the world.

Your world.

Making your life better and easier.

Your fights are his now. Your grudges are his.

Even if you buried the hatchet, he digs it back up.

Funnily enough? When police question you… When Gale Weathers pops up and starts snooping and asking if you know something, anything, you conveniently forget to mention how, weeks ago, all of your old diaries vanished from the attic.

You also forget about the late-night calls with the freak on the other side, breathing heavily, slick sounds hinting at him jerking off as he love-bombs you.

You think you lost the fear of Ghostface. He is like a phantom out to watch over you—Almost like a guardian angel.

Maybe he will turn up at your house at some point. Perhaps he will bring the knife and hold it to your throat while he does all the dirty things he promises you over the phone.

Speaking of… it rings again.

“Hello, little bunny. What's your favorite scary movie?”

[strapped-and-beheaded]

Brooke with ask meme answers. yeah.

1. Describe your OC physically- what do they look like? What notable features do they have, or what’s your favorite part of their design?

very tiny. under the oversized shirts or three layers min has a hourglass shape and defined muscle. her curly hair makes crescent moon shapes and spirals. big puppy eyes.

she's hairy and growing fur too, got fluffy sideburns and neck fur reaching high enough to give her stubble. she gets mistaken for a dogperson instead of a person with wolf tf all the time from how far along her transformation is. İt's weirdly euphoric.

2. What role would your OC fill in a friend group?

only friend group she's in is with Charlotte and Anna and they don't really have roles... She's just someone kinda funny and nice you talk to at school and nowhere else for most other people.

3. What is their stance on religion? Are they a devout believer, against the idea of gods, or somewhere in between? Do they make their practice or their opinions public, or keep it private?

she's a devout believer, even tho she hardly acts like it. hasn't been to the temple since she was taken from her mother, it's embarassing but she doesn't know much of anything about the religion she's in, she was too young.

especially with her friends being nuns, she finds hanging out in the temple relaxing, spends most her time reading, praying sometimes but she doesn't really know how to pray..?

She flipflops between thinking "I'm an animal so I can't sin, or go to heaven anyway" and "I am a demon I am horrible Virgo doesn't want me I'm going to hell"

4. How do they act when they’re sick, and does it change depending on who they’re around or how sick they are?

she pushes through as much as she can, then when she can't she crashes and spends a few days barely moving, she appreciates if anyone cares for her but won't ask for it

5. What’s one hill your OC will die on (anything from a guiding moral position to a strong opinion about combining mint and chocolate)?

snakes are literally the cutest. they have little beady eyes and cat mouths and theyre so adorable. they're dangeorus? so are big cats and other furry wild animals people find cute from a distance but snakes have such bad rep for no reason!

6. How did you choose your OC’s name?

Brooke like Broodmother

7. Lots of people don’t have a favorite food when put on the spot, but what’s a food or drink that your OC would never turn down if someone offered it to them?

anything meat. she's actually bit of a grill master herself, she got tired of eating berries while the wolves feast so she learned to butcher and grill meat. she can actually eat it raw now but she likes the wood fire taste.

8. What’s something that your OC owns that means the world to them? What’s something they own that they don’t like, but can’t bring themself to part with?

her plants. the ones she keeps in her room, she loves them so much. even the parasite children aren't really sacred to her anymore but she cares for her plants.

9. How do they fare in cold or hot climates, and which do they prefer?

she runs a bit hot so she likes cold, lately she likes snow and how quiet everything gets under the blanket of white

10. Share a sentence of dialogue from your OC that you think represents them well.

"I think I get why mom tried to kill us. I must have made her suffer so much..."

"Arf? awoo... woof."

11. How are they seen by people around them - family, close friends, colleagues, or strangers?

Family: Lowel, her older brother, seems more distant by the day really, he seemed happy to have her at first but everything she does seem to be wrong, she'd do anything for him to just fucking look at her again. but slowly she's giving up on him too... and the pack respects but fear her, she's been volatile lately, they don't leave her alone with the kids for a reason

close friends: Charlotte and Anna both regret not being there for her sooner but willing to make it right, now that theyre here. she's a precious friend to them as she ever was

colleguesclassmates: weird autistic kid that's funny and who you ask for notes at science class. there was that pregnancy rumor but ehh seems unlikely. he's been quieter lately but also close to Charlotte the most popular girl at schoool tm so net neuteral status

12. What does their bed and/or desk look like? Tidy or cluttered - are they both the same, or is one neat and the other messy?

messy. his bed is more of a nest and his desk is overtaken by the fish tank, he keeps books stashed under it and does his studying on the floor

13. How do they deal with pain (physical or emotional)?

swallow his tears and smile through it, and repress and supress his emotions until he genuinely stops thinking about it.

but his resilience carried him only so far, now that everything crashed down on him, he's constantly failing to process every single bad thing that ever happened to him. now pain puts him in fight or fight response, he won't stop clawing and biting until he gets to safety or he passes out

14. How comfortable are they relying on other people, and what situations would change their comfort level?

she'd say she's comfortable. but actually never brings herself to ask for help ever, she doesn't deserve it. she's more likely to whine and bark for help when depersonalization hits and she's a little head empty just doggy

15. How does your OC take up space? What do they do with their hands when they talk, or how do they sit in chairs?

she is small and curls in on herself in a corner on top of that, tho she has bad vollume control so she might accidenly attract attention. pulls her knees to her chest while sitting if she can, hands rest wherever.

17. What are three moments in their life that impacted your OC the most?

her mom nearly beating her to death as a toddler's up there probably.

getting kidnapped by Kylar, until then she was holding on because she had her friends, everyone else might be enemies willing to hurt her for any selfish reason but she's safe with her friend, and she has to be strong for them too! so she wouldn't break no matter what strangers do to her. but getting kidnapped and raped when she was already barely present in her body just trying to get through christmas made everything crash down. it's when she remembers/aknowledges the almost being killed thing too...

the whole pregnancy thing had a pretty big affect on her life too I'd say... İt happening literally the day after she got out of the mansion did not help.

18. If they can or would drive, what would their car be like?

third hand pickup truck she treats like a dying horse on its last leg, petting the hood of the car to encourage it and all.

19. How do they connect with the people around them? Love language, how they offer comfort, etc.

She connects to people via interests, if you let her infodumb to you long enough she considers you friends and would ask about your interests too.

Love language is just spending time together, she wants to go grocery shopping together or just go on a walk, ultimate show of love and trust is her letting you hold her leash.

Horrid at offering comfort, she needs more comfort than anything tbh maybe it should be a comfort to you that no matter what you're going through at least you're not a barely 19 yo mother of 8

20. What kind of clothing do they feel most comfortable in? What kind of clothing do they wear most often?

Oversized shirts or multiple layers as mentioned, likes shorts better than pants, likes having a hat too. doesn't actually mind more feminine clothes that much her halloween costume was a witch, tho that felt like cross dressing, she prefers to be mistaken for a boy, she is kind of a boy, boy enough, yeah.

Oh also likes those wolf shirts they're so cool, also any shirt with a dumb phrase on it or a funky design, it's nice when her clothes make her feel happy to look at

[thesternumb]

I think how we as humans interact with animals says a lot about us and our nature. We call rats, cockroaches, flys, snakes, and mosquitoes evil and demonize them as if they’re only goal in life is to intentionally inconvenience us, when all they are trying to do is what all life is trying to do,

survive, thrive, try and keep yourself alive

I don’t understand how we’re better.

We seek to fulfill the same basic needs

but look down upon them for trying to feed.

And it’s unideal to have to share a meal,

But is it best to be a pest or something that kills without regret when

In the end were all living beings trying to fulfill the needs sewn into our jeans.

Is being an inconvenience really punishable by death?

Even if it’s just a pest,

how are we any different then the rest

of beings?

Here's what we’re not seeing,

we’re not much different then other creatures but all our teachers teach us is to be afraid.

Fears aren’t brought, they're learned, generation after generation kids hear every word. So be mindful of your reactions. They can dictate others actions towards the new and unfamiliar and then hate with such passion,

or let it be, believe what they want

and whatever happens happens.

Does having consciousness mean you have a conscience, lab rats?

Does any being being capable of feeling pain mean any being could ever deserve to feel that?

What are our morals but oral stories passed down through tradition only with the mission to strive to stay alive because it’s not an option to pass on or die

Because your only life’s purpose is to

pass on your genetics

but isn’t that pathetic

so believe what you want,

whatever makes you feel good,

love thy neighbor but only in thy neighborhood.? (What?)

Nobel as a lion,

king of the jungle,

killing all the cubs of any male before and

whoops that association was a fumble

But us people from the start,

Fair less frail of heart

our morals could never take such a tumble.(…right?)

But whether we were eating in Eden or simply just being I gotta feeling

it doesn't matter even if it’s the latter cuz what’s right is what’s right

and what’s wrong is what’s wrong

but which is which we’ll always fight over rather then getting along to

sing a good song and be happy forever even if our morals depend on the weather, because like animals were nothing better

than built in bonds

Now am I wrong or am I wrong?

Someone’s always gonna disagree

but isn't what that means to be free,

your right to start conflict, conflicts with others right to be respected

but what else can be expected from flawed human beings.

In the end “if the ends justify the means” what’s that mean?

Is a goal worth the hurt we do along the way?

we’re either doomed or blessed to die from birth why bother caring every day?

What do you say you and me can have a chat

I’ll make you think until you wish you could go back,

because all I have is questions with no answer in sight

and it’s not exactly my strong suit to keep conversations light

I’m not deep, I just empathize with the crawlies and the creeps that like to come out while I sleep.

So let me ramble till our brains are scrambled and I’ll serve 'em up for dinner later

on paper

for you to ingest,

Enjoy! Bonjour!

I hope it’s easy to digest.

Honestly I’m feeling my best when the words are flowing out of my mouth onto the ground look at me now,

It’s nothing new

I’m a bit of a mouthful.

I bite off a bit more than other people can chew or even want to.

The flavor left in my mouth I try not to savor

so do me a favor and try not to waver

As I look you in the eyes we both hide behind and try to see if anyone else has thought of this but me.

Is it more free to think,

To put it in pen and ink?

Or let go and let these thoughts flow, will that stop me from getting low?

Are these thoughts universal but just so controversial that we must all keep up the same rehearsal of

showing false knowing

To pretend to in order to defend ourselves from the fears we hide on the shelf’s of our subconscious mind that we must never bring up or find

I genuinely don’t wanna be deep but these questions they seep

into the cracks in my brain,

I feel like I’m going insane

So asking is all I can do

So what about you?

[vendettavalor]

@tacticalvalor said: For Lucas Grey :3 Inland Taipan: Does your muse hold grudges? Banded King Snake: What is a misconception about your muse? Emerald Boa: What is your muse's favorite feature about themself?

⚔️ Snake Themed Character Asks // CLOSED ⚔️

Inland Taipan: Does your muse hold grudges?

// oh absolutely. The entire plot of Hitman: WoA revolves around the fact that Lucas has held a grudge for 50 years. The man was literally so vengeful that he dedicated his entire life to rooting out Providence operatives in every sector of the world where they hid, disrupting their operations, and destroying the shadow organization piece by piece. He did not care that he was labeled a terrorist because of it either. If anything, he embraced the title as a fear tactic. BUT- there's another side to this too. While Lucas never forgot the people who wronged him and vowed to destroy them, he also never forgot the promise he made to 47 - to take care of him, to find him, to protect him. To give him the life always deserved but never actually got to have. Yes, Lucas can hold a grudge. But he can also remember his promises and stick to them.

Banded King Snake: What is a misconception about your muse?

// That Lucas is completely calloused, unfeeling, and unaffected by his actions. Unlike 47, Lucas never received any doses of emotion-repressing serum that allowed him to complete his tasks without any sort of emotional repercussions. Arguably, that makes him more dangerous than his brother. Where 47 does not have a distinction between right and wrong and lets Diana guide his hand, Lucas does have a moral compass. He can understand that what he's doing is wrong, even if it's being done for the right reasons. And where many call him callous and unfeeling for doing it anyway - a monster - the truth is, Lucas does feel the weight of his sins. He actively tries to avoid civilian casualties. He tries his damndest to deal blows while keeping collateral damage to a minimum. And even then, he often has to grapple with the idea of whether or not he did, or is doing, the right thing. In his own words, it's a dangerous thing having a conscience.

Emerald Boa: What is your muse's favorite feature about themself?

// If you ask him, Lucas will say that he doesn't have a favorite feature. He's a tool, an agent, a solider - a genetically-enhanced clone built with the sole purpose of mastering the art of killing. It's a cold and clinical assessment, and one that he created to mask the fact that Lucas hates everything about himself. He resents being created. He resents that he had to leave 47 behind and break his promise to him and so many other agents. He resents himself for the fact that he made Olivia an orphan and then dragged her into this dangerous life of living hand-to-mouth every second of every day. He hates that he's not even a successful version of what he was supposed to be. He hates himself for not being able to let go of his vendetta for Providence. He hates that it consumed him and that he wasn't strong enough to overcome it or keep his family together. He hates that he is so bitter and resentful. But what else can he do? If a monster is what they made him, then a monster he has to be.

[reacquaintedwith-air]

I went back and read Chakotay's one, and oof.

It's a pretty interesting and detailed portrait of Chakotay as a character but the garbled history and anti indigenous racism baked into it at all levels is.... 🙃. Still. Chakotay's dad was lovely and he was so mean to him and then he was killed by Cardassisns before they mended fences, and Chakotay has a vision quest of his Dad, which brings Chakotay peace but it seems like a cop out, narratively speaking.

He has a fear of reptiles and snakes, but his animal guide is a snake. IDK what this means in relation to Janeway's animal being a lizard. Also the whole salamander thing 😂🦎🦎

He thinks Tom is arrogant and flashy and bad news. He knew that he disappeared or ran off on him. He didn't seemingly know that Starfleet had him, or that he apparently grassed on them, contrary to how it was portrayed in Caretaker.

Very little character detail about seska, which is a shame since I figured that this would be my best shot of finally finding out more about their relationship and what on earth seska was up to. Apparently they were hot for each other and had a largely physical affair and seska was very possessive of him. It not a deep relationship and they never really talked even though seska clearly loved him and tried to look after him 😔. Don't get me wrong, seska was very nuts and I never got behind the movement to kind of rehab the character in fandom bc she is a clear villain regardless of gender. However Chakotay still kinda treated her like shit imo

Also Chakotay broke off the affair because he got really depressed over having to self defense kill a cardassian while fighting a giant alien serpent. I don't really get this part either. I guess he's so moral that even saving himself from the guy who was trying to kill him by getting the serpent to eat the enemy instead of him, without the Starfleet rubber stamp that he had in the war sent him into a tailspin? So then he decided that he couldn't be involved with someone in his crew. Yeah.

Yeah. 💀🫠

(Also Chakotay doesn't seem to have reciprocal feelings for B'Elanna in this, which is sad because I'm rewatching s1 lately, and honestly, I can see it.)

re: previous (community only) post, I'm skimming through Pathways, especially B'Elanna's section, Tom's section and Chakotay's section, trying to figure out if B'Elanna would have baggage/distrust over Tom selling out Chakotay's ship when they met the first time. I've looked at mainly B'Elanna's so far. some takeaways:

Jeri Taylor is racist/xenophobic about aliens in general and Klingons in particular. It's amazing how many ways Scifi writers can come up with being racist towards fictional aliens but here we are. She's pretty racist about B'Elanna as well.

Jeri Taylor really doesn't like Tom Paris, from all perspectives he's either an ass or he's pathetic, she makes (so far) no real effort at understanding his viewpoint. Her stance seems to be 'he deserved it, and more, because he's stupid and pathetic.'

Taylor really likes Chakotay, no matter what he does or who he associates with, Chakotay is the Real Hero who has Integrity and Affability and is Right lol.

B'Elanna was rescued by Chakotay, Seska and the Liberty while the federation ship (with Maquis sympathizer commander) she was on was captured by Cardassians. She then asks to join up, because they're welcoming and different and she has a crush on Chakotay. I feel like this is a lot less flattering than the author intended it to be. B'Elanna's full belief in the cause/hatred of Cardassians seems more fleshed out in actual canon and is a much stronger character point for her. Maybe Taylor doesn't believe in the Maquis (fair, i don't think the Maquis make a lot of sense either, even with justified grievances) and maybe she's trying to make her choices seem more sympathetic, but I don't think "because she liked a boy" is a more endearing or character-accurate portrait.

B'Elanna was definitely on the Liberty when Chakotay brought Tom in. B'Elanna found him annoying and glib and felt objectified by him.

Tom saved B'Elanna from downing in a river when they went swimming and then she trusted him i guess. Except right after that Chakotay sent him out in a shuttle and he never came back "so much for loyalty" thinks B'Elanna.

Tuvok comes on board, B'Elanna gets along with him really well, supposedly, which would have been nice to see mirrored on the show like, ever. (do they ever even have a conversation on screen?) apparently some time passes but it's not actually made clear that Tom actually told Starfleet where they are, so I'm not sure if she knew that before they got to the Delta Quadrant. She sure would have known afterward though, so I still don't understand this character logic here where B'Elanna "Trust Issues" Torres doesn't let this get in the way of their relationship

(i'll reblog this with updates when i skim the other sections -- thus why i made this on my blog instead of the comm, you can't seem to reblog those posts lol)

[apas-95]

I always took Mao’s quote, that the communists need not fear the truth (and should actively seek it out and never embellish or hide it) because the truth is on our side, somewhat for granted. I thought, somewhat naively, that while it was correct, it was surely rhetoric that any ideological trend would adopt.

How wrong I was! With the outbreak of the imperialist war in Ukraine, and the immediate, glaringly obvious falsehoods of Ukrainian state propaganda - with The Ghost of Kiev, Snake Island, Zaporizhzhia, exaggerated claims about Russian losses, etc. - the common liberal position openly declared lying and hiding the truth to be beneficial to their stance. By opposing and removing any reports of Ukraine’s defeats, no matter how accurate; and supporting and spreading any reports of Ukrainian victory and strength, no matter how false; the rhetoric went, you were Boosting Ukrainian Morale.

To what end, exactly? If the situation really is hopeless, if the Russian army really is about to encircle a town, isn’t it better for the people of Ukraine to know? To not throw themselves into a lost battle, to not take vain hope that yes, the west really is going to start flying jets overhead any hour now, the Russian force will retreat if you just hold out and sacrifice for a few more days - is this type of rhetoric, this false hope, not getting people killed, not prolonging a horrible war? But, remember! They wouldn’t be supporting this war if they cared about the people of Ukraine. They are not communists, they are liberals, and therein lies the problem.

The truth always serves the people. The communists stand for the people, and the truth serves them. The truth does not serve the liberals, the capitalists, the war profiteers and imperialists. Who do these lies help, if not the Ukrainian people? They help Raytheon, surely; the longer this war goes on, the more missiles are spent, the more military stock is destroyed and annihilated and ordered for replacement, the more they profit. They help BP, surely; the more disruption to Russian gas lines through Ukraine, the greater the demand for US gas in western Europe, the more they profit.

I would say that they help the US imperialists in their geopolitical goals, of isolating and weakening Russia, of knocking down any EU aspirations of independence from the US, etc, but really, all these things are in service of the prior two. The point of isolating enemy states, of weakening alliances, of endless war, is to gain profit for US corporations - they’re the ones running the show, lobbying the legislature, writing the laws... even drafting the propaganda.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Bad Romance ~ P.P

chapter five: off with your head

series masterlist and series playlist

“Okay. I think we found our next victim.” You said as you excitedly rubbed your hands together.

“Who?” Venom asked as it came out in its snake like form and floated around your head.

“Harry Osborn. He’s Norman Osborn’s son. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them on whatever planet you’re from but they own this huge corporation in the city called Oscorp. Anyway, Harry allegedly killed this girl named Gwen Stacy, one of his dads employees. People said they saw Harry taking her up on his dads glider but apparently the technology wasn’t ready yet. He dropped her and she died. His dad tried to cover it up but Gwen’s boyfriend has been protesting outside of Oscorp for weeks to get the truth out.”

“Okay. Let’s get him.” Venom decided.

“Perfect.” You smiled. “I’ll contact the boyfriend so we can get a full account of what happened for the report.”

Gwen’s boyfriend was more then happy to give you all the information you needed on her wrongful death. You typed up a detailed report of what Harry and Norman had done and made sure to include the hidden “WE ARE VENOM” message. You printed it out and stuck it in your pocket before turning into Venom. You then jumped out the window and climbed from rooftop to rooftop until you reached Oscorp.

“Which office is his?” Venom asked you.

“Probably the biggest one.” You answered. Venom crawled to the top of the building and broke through a window. Harry Osborn gasped as glass shattered all around his office.

“What the hell is that?” Harry asked as he got out of his desk chair.

“Not “what”, “who”. The better question is “Who the hell is that?”, Harry.” Venom growled as it stalked up to Harry. Harry backed up until his back hit a wall and he let out a little gasp. You felt excited that he was as scared as you had felt that night in Andy Andersons office.

“What do you want?” Harry asked. “Money? I’ll give you all the money you want. I swear.“

“We don’t want your money.” Venom growled.

“Then what do you want? A job? My watch? Please, I’ll give you anything. Just let me live.”

“Let you live? Like how you let Gwen Stacy live?” Venom asked as it pinned Harry against the wall by his throat. Harry’s eyes widened when he heard Gwen’s name.

“She left me. She was my girlfriend first and left me for that loser.” Harry explained as he gasped for air.

“So you kill her?” Venom snarled and squeezed Harry’s throat tighter.

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I just took her up on the glider to scare her. I swear. I didn’t mean to drop her. I just wanted to scare her. Please don’t kill me.” Harry pleaded. Venom smiled to show its rows of razor sharp teeth before lifting Harry of the ground by his throat.

“Did it work? Was she scared?” Venom growled as it leaned in closer to Harry’s ear.

“Yes.” Harry gulped. “She was scared.”

“What about you, Harry? Are you scared?” Venom asked before licking the side of Harry’s face with its forked tongue. Harry let out a whimper and gasped for air.

“Yes. I’m scared.”

“Good. Fear makes men taste so much better.” Venom grinned before swallowing Harry hole. You transformed back into yourself and shook your body out before taking out the report you had written. You grabbed a stapler off of Harry’s desk and stapled the report to the wall so that when someone came looking for him, they’d know exactly where he went. You looked around the office for a minute before seeing a picture of Harry and Norman framed on Harry’s desk.

“Hey V, are you still hungry?” You asked as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Always.” Venom growled back.

“Let’s go pay his daddy a visit.” You said as you transformed back into Venom. You could feel your morals slipping away more and more everyday. Before you bonded with Venom, you could never imagine harming another person. Now, you killed people on a weekly basis and didn’t bat an eye. You felt a sort of cognitive dissonance when you went hunting with Venom. Part of you knew what you were doing was really really wrong, but another part of you found it exciting. The power you felt when you were Venom was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You felt like you were a different person, and you were okay with that.

Venom dragged its claws along the walls of the building as it looked for Normans office. When you found a door with his name on it, you kicked it in and went inside. Norman barely had time to scream before you swallowed him whole. You turned back into yourself and sat down at his desk to open up a word document. You typed up a quick report about how he covered up Gwen’s death and left it open on the screen.

“There. Perfect.” You smiled to yourself and transformed back into Venom. Venom jumped out of Normans window and ran through the streets on all fours until it heard a strange sound nearby. Venom stopped running and looked around the corner just in time to see Spiderman webbing some guy to the wall. Peters spidey senses went off and he quickly turned around, jumping when he saw Venom staring at him. This was the first time he had ever seen Venom so he had no idea what he was looking at. Peter thought back to the “WE ARE VENOM” message he found hidden in the reports and something inside him told him that the creature in front of him was the one who left that message.

“Spiderman?” Venom asked as it took a step into the light.

“Venom?” Peter asked to confirm his suspicion.

“Spiderman.” Venom snarled as it lips curled into a grin.

“Venom.” Peter gulped. He quickly shot a web at a nearby building and swung away. He could hear the sound of Venom running after him on all fours and swung away faster. He was not interested in being the next victim of the deadly creature behind him so he ran for his life. Peter accidentally turned down a dead end and panicked until he remembered he could climb walls. He started to climb up the wall when Venom grabbed his leg and threw him to the ground. While all of this was happening, you were silently watching it unfold in a panic. For the first time ever, you could not stop what Venom was doing. Venom was in total control and no matter how hard you tried, you could not turn back into yourself. You didn’t want to hurt Spiderman but it seemed like you didn’t have a choice.

Venom dragged Peter by the leg and threw him against the wall as you cried out for Venom to stop. You watched as Venom grabbed Peter again, by the head this time, and throw his body into the other wall. When you looked down, you saw that Peters mask was in your hand. You looked up and saw Peter curled in a ball with his hands covering his face. He was whimpering and shaking with fear, bringing the same ache to your chest that you had felt when you saw Peter cry. Venom started to walk up to Peter to deliver the final blow but you begged it to stop.

“Venom, wait. We can’t kill this guy. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” You pleaded.

“There’s no such thing as can’t.” Venom growled back and continued to walk towards Peter.

“Venom, please. Don’t do this. It’s Spiderman! He isn’t a bad guy! He helps people. Please, don’t kill him.” You begged. Venom said nothing as it stood over Peter.

“Venom, we will never be the hero if we kill Spiderman. The city will hate us. This is an innocent person. We don’t kill innocent people.” You tried one last time. Venom ignored you and raised the fist that had Peters mask in it. Peter let out a scream and covered his face as much as he could as he accepted his fate.

When Peter didnt feel an impact, he slowly lowered his arm from his face and opened his eyes. He saw Venom silently handing him his mask back with its free hand covering its eyes. Venoms body was turned away so that Peters identity would stay concealed. You sighed in relief and felt like you had control again.

“Thanks.” Peter said softly as he took his mask. He looked at it in confusion before putting it on, wondering why Venom gave it back instead of killing him or exposing his identity.

“Are you okay, little guy?” You spoke through Venom to ask.

“Little guy?” Peter scoffed weakly. “I’m a man.”

“Yes.” Venom nodded. “A little tiny man. Who screams like a little girl.”

“I don’t normally do that.” Peter cracked a smile under his mask. “But I thought you were going to eat me. Why didn’t you? I thought you were a bad guy.”

“Bad guy?” Venom growled, taking control again. “Why would you ever think we were a bad guy?”

“Because you look like a bad guy.” Peter said, instantly regretting it. Venom turned its head, as if it was listening to something Peter couldn’t hear. Peter watched this and was reminded of how you often did the same thing. Venom sighed reluctantly after a minute and turned back to Peter.

“Spiderman, just because you are tiny and we are big does not make us a bad guy.” Venom answered in a kinder tone.

“I was really talking about the rows and rows of sharp teeth and reptile tongue.” Peter explained.

“Reptile?” Venom got angry again. “Did you call us a reptile?”

“There’s nothing wrong with reptiles.” Peter said quickly. “I love reptiles! And look at me. I’m named after an arachnid. All great creatures. No insults being thrown here.”

“Sorry.” Venom relaxed. “We know we need to work on our aggression.”

“It’s okay.”

“We were not talking to you!” Venom roared.

“S-sorry.” Peter stammered. “Who were you talking to? Who else is here?”

Venom turned its head again and grumbled something that sounded like an argument that Peter could only hear one side of.

“Who are you talking to?” Peter leaned in a little and stared at Venom with curiosity.

“Our host.” Venom snarled before going back to the argument.

“Host? You mean…you mean there’s someone inside you?”

“Yes.” Venom said like it was obvious.

“Wow. That’s incredible. So do you guys have a parasitic relationship or something?“ Peter asked as his excitement grew. No matter what, he was still a science nerd in his heart.

“Parasite?” Venom growled.

“He didn’t call us a parasite. He said parasitic.” You quickly assured Venom. Venom grumbled a little but said nothing.

“Where did you come from?” Peter wondered as he continued to stare in awe.

“Space.” Venom shrugged. You watched this interaction through Venoms eyes, secretly loving the way the eyes on Peters mask widened every time you told him something new.

“Space? That’s amazing.” Peter gasped. “I went to space once. I saw a couple aliens, but none that looked like you. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. That’s how I got my powers. I don’t think it came from space, though. I found it when I broke into lab.”

“That’s funny.” Venom smiled. “Our host found us by breaking into a lab too.”

“That’s another thing we have in common.” Peter smiled back. You stared at each other for a minute, the sweet understanding of each other settling in.

“I’ve never met anyone like me.” Peter admitted. “Every other enhanced person I’ve met doesn’t hide their identity. But you do and it’s nice to meet someone else that knows what it’s like to be carrying this huge secret and I just…I really want to get to know you.”

“You do?” Venom asked skeptically. “Don’t we scare you?“

“Not anymore.” Peter shrugged, making Venom smile. You looked at each other for a minute before Peter got an idea.

“Do you want to hang out?” He asked you.

A few minutes later, you and Peter were still sitting on a rooftop of a building with your legs hanging over the edge. You spent hours up there as you talked about anything and everything. He was still in his suit and you were still Venom, but you felt like you were just two people talking.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter asked you.

“Sure.”

“How do you decide what men to take?” Peter asked, something he had been wondering for a while.

“Our host put out an anonymous ad for women who had been wronged and needed justice. They give us the details of what happened and we hunt down the men who hurt them.“

“Oh. Hm.” Peter said as he thought about your response.

“We only hurt people that deserve to be hurt. The justice system does not work nearly as fast as we do. Criminals can’t commit crimes if they’re not on the streets.” You continued when you noticed how quiet Peter had become.

“If they’re not on the streets, where are they?”

“We eat them.” Venom said simply.

“Oh. Y-yummy.” Peter said weakly. He had been wondering for weeks about what happened to the bodies and now that he knew, he felt sick to his stomach.

“It’s not that bad. It just tastes like-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Peter cut Venom off.

“Okay. We won’t.”

“Why do you stay anonymous?” Peter asked. “I’ve always wondered that too. I mean, I found your secret message in the reports but I don’t think other people have. Why don’t you take credit for what you do?”

“Because people would not like us if they knew what we looked like. We are scary. They would never understand that we are trying to help.” Venom answered in a sad tone, making Peter feel slightly guilty.

“What about the reports? Why do you leave them?”

“We don’t want people to think these are senseless killings. We want them to know what these men have done so they know why they were killed. Then they’ll understand that we’re trying to help. And if they understand that, they won’t look at us and think we’re a monster.”

“That makes sense.” Peter shrugged. “You know, I’ve actually been following this case from the start. I have all the reports you’ve written taped up on my wall. You’re actually really good writer. Or, I guess your host is. They could be writing for the Daily Bugle.”

“We would never write for them.” Venom said immediately as you got flashbacks to that night in Andy Andersons office.

“Why not?” Peter asked. Venom got quiet and the wheels in Peter started to turn. He thought about the first victim, Andy Anderson, and how a report was never written about him. Andy was the CEO of the Daily Bugle, the very place you seemed adamant about never writing for.

“What happened to Andy Anderson?” Peter asked quietly. Peter could see Venom stiffen and thought it was strange that such a large, menacing creature could look so scared. After a beat of silence, Venom spoke.

“The same thing that happens to all our victims. We ate him alive.”

“But why? There was never a report about him. What did he do? Why was he the first victim.”

“He…” Venom began and trailed off. Peter couldn’t help but think about how you were supposed to have an interview that night but supposedly never went to.

“He was a bad man.” Venom said finally. “And he did a bad thing. So we got revenge on him. Then we started thinking about the women who can’t get revenge on the bad men in their lives. Not the way we can at least. So we put the ad out. And we started to hunt bad men down.”

“This bad thing he did, did he do it to you?” Peter asked, making Venom go quiet again. Venom looked up at the night sky and Peter did the same, letting the silence speak for its self.

“Have you ever had someone you wanted revenge on so badly, you didn’t care how you got it?” You asked after a beat of silence. Peter noticed that your tone was different. You didn’t sound like the big scary monster you looked like. You sounded young and vulnerable to Peter.

“I definitely know the feeling. But I don’t do revenge.”

“Really? There’s no one you would want to get revenge on?”

“Maybe this one guy.” Peter admitted.

“Who?” Venom asked. This time, Peter was the one to get quiet. He looked up at the sky again before starting to speak.

“When I was 14, my uncle Ben was shot and killed right in front of me. I had gone out one night to a bodega after fighting with my aunt and uncle. The fight was all my fault too. I left to blow off of steam and my uncle Ben went out looking for me.” Peter said, voice cracking as he spoke.

“It’s okay, Spiderman. You can tell us. It’s okay.” Venom said as it put a hand on Peters shoulder, careful not to scratch him with its claws. Peter nodded and felt like he could keep going.

“The bodega ended up getting robbed. I didn’t do anything to stop it. I just watched. The man who robbed it ran out and tried to get away so my uncle Ben tried to stop him. He…the man…” Peter trailed off again as tears slid down his face under his mask.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it if it’s too painful.” You spoke through Venom as you looked at him.

“No. I have to say it. I have to say it because it’s my fault.” Peter sniffled. You stayed quiet so that Peter could speak without interruption.

“He shot him.” He said after a minute. “He shot my uncle Ben. I tried to stop the bleeding but it was too late. He died in my arms.”

“We are so sorry, Spiderman. But what happened that night was not your fault. It’s entirely the fault of the man with the gun. His decisions are what led to your uncle getting shot. Not yours. You can’t blame yourself for his death. You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“But I should’ve-“

“No.” Venom cut in. “Nothing you did or didn’t do would’ve changed what happened that night. If that man went in there with a gun, he had plans to use it. It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you.” Peter smiled softly under his mask. “Thank you for listening. I haven’t told that story in years.”

“You’re welcome, Spiderman.” Venom nodded. “What happened next? Did they ever catch the man?”

“No. They looked but ended up dropping the case after a few days. The police said they had a new pile of crimes to look into every night and my uncle was no longer a priority.”

“I hate them. I hate the justice system. It doesn’t work. That’s why New York needs people like us on the streets. We protect people. Not them.” Venom growled. Peter stayed silent, not wanting to say that he didn’t agree. He trusted the justice system, even if it had let him down in the past.

“Did you ever go looking for that man?” Venom asked to break the silence.

“I tried. He wore a mask and sunglasses so I only saw a little bit of his face. But I didn’t see a tattoo of a-“

“Star. On his left wrist?” Venom asked. For some reason, you knew exactly what Peter was gonna say before he said it. The story Peter had just told you felt all too familiar. You were hearing it for the first time, but you somehow knew the ending.

“Yeah. How did you know?” Peter asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “I just knew.”

You and Peter looked at each other for a long time but said nothing. You had no idea that you knew each other’s identity beneath your disguises. Peter had no idea that he was taking to you, and you had no idea that you were talking to Peter. The feeling of sweet understanding returned and you smiled at each other.

“Would you want to do this again sometime?” Peter asked you when he realized the sun was starting to rise.

“Yes.” Venom replied. “We would really like that.”

“Cool. Catch you later, Venom.” Peter saluted to your before diving off the building. Once Peter was gone, you transformed back into yourself and smiled a little.

“Catch you later, Spiderman.”

Tag List 🏷

you @snowangelsinosemanverse wish @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah you @xo-spidey never @tom-holland-lover ever @asoulsreverie met @espressopatronum454 her @tom-hollands-wifey at @rebellsgf all @20fandomfangirl @dhtomholland @queentorresstuff @3lutforsmut @liltimmyst

[wakatshi-archive]

❛ THROUGH THE LATE NIGHT ❜ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

previous ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ masterlist ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ next

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ PLOT — getting your hookup’s phone number —an easy task, although being high gets you the wrong number and a stranger’s confusing answer. ushijima wakatoshi, billionaire. how’d you end up texting him from all people? he’s a man of a few words. a man who’s too busy to reciprocate your useless flirting attempts, too busy to concern himself with relationships. you can’t see through him. he’s stern and harsh. too stuck up for you.

curiosity killed the cat. it didn’t kill you, but it sure got you caught up in the middle of something far more dangerous than you could’ve ever expected. the streets of tokyo hide dark secrets and the city you once knew turns into a long forgotten memory.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ PART V — where’s my lawyer?

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ WC — 2.5K WORDS / WARNINGS — very brief mentions of drug & human trafficking, kidnap.

“where are we going?”

“wakatoshi’s office. don’t worry, miss. he won’t murder you! probably.”

truth be told, you’re mortified. you feel like puking, like curling up on the elevator’s floor with anxiety and pure dread stuck down your throat and staying there for eternity. nothing can describe your feelings more than a punch in the stomach. you were hit so hard and you can’t move, nor breathe.

you should’ve run. you should do it right now. the thought hasn’t left your mind since tendō picked you up. (kidnapped) when he opened the door, you thought of sprinting away. but you didn’t. instead, you kept glancing at the tall glass building standing imperiously in front of your very own eyes.

wakatoshi is a stranger and nothing more. you know nothing about him except for the articles you’ve angrily scrolled through on your iphone in search of a concrete answer. who is he?

the CEO of a major real estate company and part of the ushijima clan. but you already knew that.

and the ushijima clan? they’re involved in politics, law, business and real estate plus several other industries.

you’d think they’re normal. but there is no such thing as normality within a clan with such an absurd amount of power and influence. at a second glance and after further investigation, you’ve found out few of them have multiple fraudulent charges. involvement in human and drug trafficking— illegal activities, guilt by association and connections with the mafia.

although a huge majority faced no consequences, useless trials and accusations. they’re all free and roaming around the streets of tokyo with their hands stained.

the media doesn’t cover their corrupt practices enough and you can’t expect less from a clan as powerful. not that you would know. you’re not familiar with clans, nor their activities. but bribing and manipulation– they’re perfect examples of privilege and power. like the snake’s apple rotten to its very core, putrid and flawed just like you would expect it to be. corruption feels like a temptation they were not able to resist and you wonder how many victims their vice and greed have caused.

the very difference is ushijima wakatoshi keeps his life away from the public eye. it feels like he’d been completely excluded and excused from the sins of his clan. a nature he got himself rid off. in appearance, perhaps— and you remember the comments he made yesterday. his past is clear and so is his impeccable public image. no charges stain his reputation and strangely enough, a part of you wishes wakatoshi was nothing like the rest of his clan.

corrupted. dirty.

a man whose morality would cause nothing but destruction and suffering. a complete monster. and a horrid taste of repulsion fills your mouth at the mere thought. it runs through you and you fear its contamination would sicken you to death. but wakatoshi said it himself. his clan has a different approach.

what’s his approach then? when your entire family is so obscenely rotten, how do you become a different man?

the more you think of it, the more nauseous you become, so you stop and you hope tendō can sense your sarcasm.

“good to know. i’m relieved now.”

“relax,” he pats your shoulder a few times, an attempt to ease you off, “i’m just kidding. wakatoshi would never hurt someone like you. unless you really piss him off. which you won’t!”

you’re reminded of the many, many times you got on ushijima’s nerves. bullied him. called him an old man— such insults you deemed justified at the moment, but now, looking in retrospect, messing around with a man like him was not a brilliant idea. at all. but then again, being picked up (kidnapped) by his assistant was not a thing you expected. a real life encounter was not in your schedule.

you let go of the air stuck in your lungs as soon as the elevator doors open, you exhale too fast, maybe too audibly and you hope tendou didn’t hear you. he leads you to a tall, dark door at the end of a corridor in front of which two men are standing, both carrying ar-15 rifles. the freedom you were praying for was just an illusion.

amazing.

tendō is quick to notice your increasing panic “they haven’t used them in a week. only for emergencies, you know.”

“good morning, tendō, miss. put your personal belongings over there. your phone included.” one of them proceeds to body check you.

“what’s all this fuss about? ” you ask and he replies with a dry “microphones.” he opens the massive door and a man so intimidating reveals himself you’re weak in the knees.

“good morning.”

you gulp.

ushijima wakatoshi is an elegant man. you wouldn’t call yourself poor– no, you aren’t. but two worlds separate you and it’s more obvious than ever.

his voice sends shivers down your spine, deep, he stands imposant in front of you, tall and broad, he molds the atmosphere into something intimidating and quite dark.

in a navy suit, ushijima leans against a desk, arms crossed against his chest. he watches every single move you make. you’re a prey caught in the middle of something far beyond your control, a gazelle if you want; and he’s the lion preparing to feast on you. an eagle looking down at its prey.

he looks flawless. he exudes wealth our of every single pore, he’s well-groomed, shaved, he sports a wristwatch on his right hand. the suit, the navy necktie and vest, the white button up hiding underneath— all seem tailored for him, they fit him almost too perfectly and his shoes are polished impeccably. he has the mannerism of an educated, wealthy man, yet natural as if he’s been born to do this. but he’s rather stiff and you can’t help but notice after staring at him with dread in your eyes for a few moments.

his office is of the same refinement, very few baroque paintings decorate the dark walls— a brown, long desk is placed in the middle of the room and behind it, the stunning view suprises you— the sunrise, the skyscraper, the beauty of a city seen from afar. a table coffee made out of dark wood, a brown leather couch and two matching armchair and carpets; a couple of bookshelves and a newspaper abandoned on his table next to a cup of coffee. despite the lack of colour, it’s not as cold as you’d expect it to be. and ushijima looks like the missing piece of a puzzle, he fits perfectly in the middle of the office.

“you seem to lack basic manners. you are supposed to say it back.”

how rude.

“my sincere apologies , mr ushijima. i’ve been too busy preparing for my sentence.” you gulp again, and you hope he’ll spare you the scolding.

“what exactly are you talking about?”

“i’m joking. unless…. you’re actually planning to behead me.”

“i do not have a beheading scheduled for today. have i not told you i do not plan to harm you?”

scheduled. beheading. there is no way he’s being serious.

“before you kidnapped me.”

“i did not kidnap you.” his seriousness is baffling, “i requested your presence.” he argues, convinced he didn’t kindap you. or maybe he’s just incredibly bad at convincing people.

“i think you have no idea what a request means. you kidnapped me. and stalked me.”

“have a seat.” he glances at the nearest leather chair.

“why am i here?”

“sit down.”

“why am i here?” you demand again.

“i need your help.”

“my help? me? from all people, a mere citizen of tokyo, helping you, ushijima wakatoshi?”

“your social position does not equate to your qualities and worth. you underestimate yourself.”

was that a… compliment?

“have i not made myself clear when i told you to have a seat?” he pulls out the chair and this time you listen, “you must sign this non disclosure agreement. you are not permitted to share any of the information i will be telling you today. under no circumstance.”

you feel his gaze piercing through your body like a bullet even when he’s behind you, but he moves immediately. it was enough to be aware of his cologne, the sensation of his body being merely inches away from yours.

“where’s my lawyer? i need a lawyer”

“a lawyer? your demand is completely understandable, but it is just a confidentiality agreement.”

“it was a joke, mr ushijima. what if i did, though? what if i told my dad?”

“i will be adding two beheadings to my schedule.”

is he trying to make a joke?

“he’s not being serious.”

“it was a joke.” he looks at tendō as if he’s waiting for his approval, as if he’s never made a joke in his entire life.

“it’s not funny when you do it.”

“but you should not be signing important contracts without a lawyer.”

almost twenty horrendously slow minutes have passed since ushijima opened his mouth and you dread each second and clock ticking, as if he’s going to erupt, pull out a handgun and shoot you.

tendō left as soon as his boss begun his speech. instead of looking at ushijima, you keep staring at the clock on the wall, tick tock, tick tock, each sound feels heavier than the previous and so do you in that leather chair, your butt hurts and you’re sweating profusely.

never has he raised his voice at you— although intimidating, ushijima’s voice feels plain with almost no inflections. deep, thick and indifferent, direct and lacking emotions, but more empathetic with the minimum of politeness when he offered you coffee— which you hoped was not drugged or poisoned, but you threw a couple of sugar cubes in there and enjoyed it nonetheless instead of refusing. enjoyed is maybe an exaggeration, you tried to accept it while your leg was bouncing, betraying the confidence you presented yourself with.

ushijima wakatoshi needs a girlfriend. a fake girlfriend.

he didn’t shy away from explaining his plan in great detail. being part of a clan is an inescapable obligation and his public image is a weight ushijima holds on both his shoulders now that his family has fucked up (he did not use those exact words) he, on the other hand, prefers to keep his affairs private. and never has ushijima been more concerned, given it’s something he isn’t good at. he confessed in the exact same tone he’s spoken with, flat and unbothered.

he sits in his leather chair right in front of you, forearms on the surface of his desk: beautiful arms and hands with long, thick fingers. well manicured, calloused with a few scratches and almost unnoticeable scars here and there.

ushijima is a very handsome man. tall and masculine, you have the feeling there’s a lot hiding underneath his suit– obviously, his muscles, his sturdy body and, well, something else. it would be a shame not to think of it. and who are you to not surrender to your rawest desires? to think of him shirtless and-

“is there anything wrong with my pants?” he asked at some point and you, caught right in the act reply swiftly, “no, sorry. i was just zoning out.”

“while looking at my pants?”

“i’ll make sure to look at your wristwatch next time, it looks expensive. how much? one million yen?”

“seven.”

why would you think of ushijima shirtless? he’s not your type. he’s too stuck up. but is he handsome? absolutely.

restoring the image of his clan is a task he’s been assigned with. somewhat bothersome, in his opinion— but then again, it’s his responsibility. there’s a certain ounce of respect he keeps in his tone while talking about his clan. after everything they’ve done, he still respects them?

ushijima has been sent a dozen of profiles and he cannot recall the last time he went on a blind date. he is simply too busy. he said he’s not interested when you accidentally texted him and you’re relieved for some reason. that he chose you? maybe. he thought of you as the perfect candidate, of course, it was tendō’s idea and he pondered it for two days.

also he is part of the mafia. and he mentioned it briefly.

as if being part of the mafia is unexceptionally boring and again, no inflections seem to expose his emotions. the company is a façade for his clan to control, own and monitor the tokyo estate industry better and closely. ushijima is not a ceo as much as he is an actor. a part of a ploy which benefits about 90% of his clan and their affairs. he occupies himself with other important matters. (such as?)

he’s become an eligible bachelor, and in his family’s opinion “a (fake) partner and perhaps a future wife would benefit us greatly.” and distract from the ongoing stratagem and boost their image. outside and inside the mafia world. mostly outside.

his clan does not associate itself with the mafia. his family is the mafia. together with very few clans, families and men and people whom they collaborate with. you’d be shocked to find out how many people have come to them in need of help, for them to do the dirty work. their business has rarely been divulged with the outside world. secrecy runs deep within, contracts, bribery, threats and murder keep them hidden under the rug.

that’s why the media rarely talks about his clan if you were to ignore the rumors and gossip. it’s a game of control, if you want. though some people know, they would never open their mouths. if they do, death follows them.

ushijima will give you a contract and a week to read it and make a decision. tendou will be a bodyguard until then and you will live in a temporary apartment. if you sign the contract, you’ll be moving in and live with ushijima.

“i don’t know what to say. will you kill me if i say no?”

“no. you will be free to go. however, if you divulge any of the information i shared with you today, there will be consequences.”

you don’t plan to ask him what consequences, but one can imagine what punishment they will receive for divulging top secret information after signing an NDA with ushijima wakatoshi.

“there is a phone in this envelope. encrypted, a sim card, the contract and a credit card. if you refuse to sign the contract, you can have it back. until then, use this phone. for the sake of your own safety.”

“a credit card?”

“i thought it would be an appropriate gift after today. spend as much as you want until next week. tendō is waiting for you, you should go. have a nice day.”

“will you leave me alone if i don’t sign the contract?”

“yes.”

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ NOTE — almost 2 months later, i’m FINALLY back with part 5 </3 this mafia is very different from the typical yakuza, i’ll explain everything soon !! i loved writing this chapter and i’d love to hear your thoughts <3

likes, reblogs, comments and feedback are all very appreciated 🤍

[stardustprompts]

the burning god -  r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   ptsd ,  addiction , death , murder , nsfw  , language 

‘do you think I’d ever let anything happen to you?’

‘you’re terrified. that’s why you’re fidgeting. you’re scared.’

‘soldiers are worth more than civilians, it’s just math.’

‘don’t cut off the head of the snake if you can tame it.’

‘none of this— our villages, our people, our freedom— will survive under their intended world order’

‘i’m the least terrible option you’ve got.’

‘I don’t mean to call you stupid, because I love you, but that plan is so stupid.’

‘i’m not sorry for this. you shouldn’t have gotten in my way.’

‘that wasn’t an insult. just being frank.’

‘they’re bullies. weakness is what they want to see.’

‘bad moral is a big weapon. don’t underestimate it.’

‘i’ve gotten you this far. trust me just a little longer.’

‘i’m not crazy right? this is clearly a trap?’

‘how do you think history will judge me if I throw away it’s fate for one person?’

‘it felt like you’d put the universe back in place. like you were balancing the scales. didn’t it?’

‘you don’t fix hurts by pretending they never happened. you treat them like infected wounds and then, maybe, you have a chance to heal.’

‘it’s not justice, it’s chaos.’

‘this is a revolution. it’s not a fucking tea party.’

‘cut me a fucking break. i’ve been fleeing for my life.’

‘I shouldn’t have counted on his virtue. but he didn’t count on my survival.’

‘they’re never gone. do you understand? they still come for you in your sleep. only this time they’re dream-wraiths, not real, and there’s no escape from them because they’re living in your own mind.’

‘your pain will always be mine.’

‘i’m not living my whole life like a beast on a leash.’

‘I should kill you. why can’t I kill you?’

‘you don’t behave rationally around her, you never do.’

‘’all right’ is not a term anyone would use to describe you.’

‘I used to hate myself for living, too. I didn’t think it was fair that I’d survived. that others had died in my place.’

‘it’s not fair. I should be in the ground with them.’

‘it doesn’t go away. It never will. but when it hurts, lean into it.’

‘this life you’ve chosen, you won’t get many moments like this again. but it’s the nights like this that keep you alive.’

‘give up, darling. trust me, this is easier. this is so much easier.’

‘you know, I think I’ve figured out where you get all that self - righteousness.’

‘their blood is on you. you killed them.’

‘I hate you. I wish we were all dead.’

‘do you think he loved you? do you think he ever loved you?’

‘this story will end. the way it was always meant to.’

‘I just want to sit for a second. in peace. can I do that?’

‘I don’t know, I thought maybe— maybe they’d realize that they need me.’

‘you are so bad at this. it’s cute.’

‘people are attracted to power, darling. they can’t help themselves. power seduces. exert it, make a show of it, and they’ll follow you.’

‘I killed him. and I don’t feel bad about it.’

‘stop pretending to care about ethics, it’s embarrassing.’

‘at some point, you’ll have to convince yourself that you’re above right and wrong. morality doesn’t apply to you.’

‘fear turns into despair, despair to panic, and then panic into utter submission. it’s incredible, the power of psychological warfare.’

‘knowing what I’ve done? yes, it hurts. unlike anything you could ever imagine.’

‘they want to erase us. they want to make us better, to improve us, by turning us into a mirror of themselves.’

‘any culture or state that diverges is necessarily inferior. we are inferior, until we speak, dress, act, and worship just like them.’

‘people pay you less attention when you don’t leave a trail of bodies in your wake.’

‘i’m just telling you what’s right in front of you. you know I’m right.’

‘you seem to have mistaken me for a dullard.’

‘it’s a tragedy we’re on different sides. you know that. we would have been so good united.’

‘he’s tried a million different things to break me. but he should have remembered he never figured out how.’

‘lost my mind for a bit. just starting to get it back now.’

‘you think we should just surrender. that we’d be better off under their rule.’

‘that’s the implication of your logic. and I won’t accept that. I can’t.’

‘i’m sure you said whatever you needed to to get them off your back. I don’t care about that.’

‘everything you do convinces them you should not exist.’

‘I did what I had to do to give him the only chance at peace he’d ever get.’

‘you are the worst thing to happen to this country. these people deserve better than you.’

‘you were only ever fighting to survive. I was fighting to win.’

‘we don’t need peace right now. we need blood.’

‘I don’t know what’s insane anymore. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘there is no turning back. i’ve waited too long for this.’

‘I can’t take that from him. not even if he’s happier like this.’

‘there’s more, there’s something you’re not telling me, I deserve to know.’

‘let go of the man you remember. you’re never going to get him back.’

‘in times like these, you can’t let sleeping threats lie.’

‘if we ever feared him, it was because he was great, and great rulers always inspire fear in the hearts of the weak.’

‘you don’t get to forget. whatever you did, you don’t deserve to forget.’

‘she’s not a person anymore. she’s rage.’

‘it’s not just about the enemy. it’s about what the world looks like after.’

‘you’re trying to protect your people. I understand that. but I’m trying to protect mine.’

‘i’m not crawling into oblivion with a whimper, and you should have known that before you came here.’

‘I don’t care what else happens up there. but you come back to me.’

‘what’s this? finally developing a conscience?’

‘I know what you did. I know everything. and I don’t care. the past doesn’t matter. ____ is in danger now, and I need you.’

‘nature can’t be altered. only held at bay.’

‘don’t take on the burden of an entire nation. it’s too heavy. and you aren’t strong enough.’

‘you should know by now that when you leave your enemies alive, wars don’t end.’

‘she told me I’ll never be afraid again.’

‘that’s power. and you’re not giving that up. I know you. you’re me.’

‘I know how humiliation feels. keep your secrets if you want. but there’s nothing you can say that will make me think any less of you.’

‘i’m not going to survive this war.’

‘do you want me to say I’m sorry?’

‘what did I tell you? you were never meant to serve.’

‘if you try that shit, I will kill you.’

‘good luck. don’t do anything stupid.’

‘keep down. and when you get the chance, run.’

‘you never want to hurt them. but you have to. you have to put them through hell, because that’s the only way anyone else will survive.’

‘I would have spared them if I could have.’

‘I wasn’t a person to you, I was a weapon, and you needed me to work.’

‘it’ll never stop hurting.’

‘you love them like your own family, and a knife twists in your heart every time you watch one of them die.’

‘see this through to the end. that’s the least you own to the dead.’

‘I wish things had been different.’

‘I so hate when you’re right.’

‘you kill me and you accomplish nothing. your world as you know it will end.’

‘i’m not going to kill you. you don’t deserve that.’

‘why does everyone think this war is over. am I the only one with eyes?’

‘it’s hard to prioritize the enemy that you can’t see.’

‘don’t call me crazy.’

‘you are being crazy. you’re acting like a fucking maniac. shut up for a moment and face the fucking facts.’

‘they can’t do this to me. I was supposed to win.’

‘we built an entire nation. we don’t have to let it collapse.’

‘what he wants is what we all want, which is to stop killing our own people.’

‘we’re about to have the world we fought for. can’t you see it? it’s so close, it’s just over the horizon.’

‘you can come back. I’ll bring you back. we’re in this together.’

‘we’re trying to broker a peace here. let’s not start off with death threats, shall we?’

‘i’m just trying to make this less painful for everyone involved.’

‘you can’t do this for me. I won’t let you.’

‘it’s not for you. it’s not a favor. it’s the cruelest thing I could do.’

[deepdarkdelights]

Forbidden Fruit (Hoseok x Reader)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 17.2k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Drugging, Manipulation, Mentions of child abduction, Attempted kidnapping, Murder, Trafficking, Organized Crime, Depiction of a character being trafficked 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Read more stories from this universe here

Preview: A thought suddenly entered your mind as your eyes continued to trace over every feature of his alluring face. He was the perfect predator. He was tall, lithe, and strong with a beautiful face that was perfect for luring in unaware victims. You were sure that if he had beckoned for you to follow him down that dark alley, you would have followed him without question even if that weren’t in your nature. He was a predator, and you were his innocent prey.

A/N: Holy shit! This took forever to write and was almost as long as Persephone! This fic is pretty different from the other ones I have written and I honestly enjoyed it so much! I really hope you guys liked it and I am sorry I took so long, but I am happy to say I am so proud of this and I think you will like it a lot! 

For as long as you could remember, there has been something wrong with you. And, everyone knew it. 

Children can appear fearless, they are blunt and tend to speak their minds unrestrained. But you were never like them. When the other girls in class would scream in fright at the sight of a spider, you would giggle and watch it crawl in between your fingers with glee. When others would shake in trepidation when their night light died, you would stare out into the dark welcomingly, watching the shadows bend and sway into one. And where most children would scream in fright when a stranger grabbed on to them and yanked them away from the playground, you cocked your head curiously and asked where the two of you were going.

There was undoubtedly something terribly wrong with you.

That last incident had led to many outcomes. But the biggest one, was your diagnosis. You had a damaged amygdala, in short, your brain could not process fear. You could feel every emotion except fear. You were broken, and there was no way for you to fix it. 

That day on the playground you were lucky that your teacher had been there, swooping in like a hawk the minute you were pulled away from the group of children. You stood there confused as she held you behind her body, screaming at the man as she dialed the emergency line on her phone in her other hand. You had been so close to what could have been the end of your life, and you weren’t afraid for a single moment. 

As you grew up, so many people would tell you how lucky you were to never be afraid of anything. You could go skydiving, you could have a pet snake, you could get into a car accident and walk out as nonchalant as a person who had dropped their phone. But, was it okay to not be scared when you were stalked down the street in the dead of the night by someone wielding a knife? What would they do if you laughed in their face as they pinned you to the wall, the serrated edge of the blade digging into the slope of your throat? If you wouldn’t comply because you weren’t afraid, would they end your life? 

Being able to experience fear is human, it’s how you protect yourself. So how were you meant to do that when nothing could scare you? Were you meant to be hunted, to be killed before you could realize what was happening? If you could be scared, then that thought would do you in. 

In your small town you were as much of a phenomenon as you were a social pariah. As a child, your diagnosis became everyone's business and soon enough was a reason to keep you isolated. What parent wanted their child befriending another who could get them in trouble as well? You were dangerous, you threatened their child’s safety. So, from day one, you were meant to be left alone. 

Your own family wasn’t quite so sure how to deal with your diagnosis, how to deal with you. What would be worse, to treat you like nothing was wrong or to remind you everyday that something was wrong? After the incident, your mother pulled you out of school, too frightened to even tempt fate with her daughter out in a world full of temptation and evil. If you had almost gone so willingly with the devil himself, then what more misfortune would you attract? 

For twenty years you had no friends, no job, no experience with the real world, and never left the house without a family member. You were lonely, depressed, riddled with anxiety, and an all around mess. You were kept prisoner for your lack of fear. You were treated much like a child or a pet, kept on a tight leash so that you wouldn’t wander and find trouble awaiting you. 

And those rare occasions when you could leave with your family were simply that, rare. Your social skills had become stunted, so to say. The foreign faces that passed you by appeared like blank slates to you. A warm smile or a gentle phrase from a stranger left you confused, how were you supposed to respond? Should you call out to your mom, hide behind your father? What were you supposed to say to them, were they a threat? Someone here to harm you and you would never know until it was far too late?

There were many possibilities, and your family did not want you to find out what they could be. 

And that was undeniably frustrating. You were an adult, all of your siblings had left home but you were still trapped there, unable to do anything you wanted. They claimed it was for your safety, but when they say that it makes you feel like that small child you had been so long ago. They were telling you you didn’t know any better and that pissed you off. You were not a child, you should not have to listen to what they say, and because of them you were stuck this way. Paranoid, friendless, and utterly lonely. How was that fair to you? How was that supposed to be keeping you safe?

So, what were you meant to do but disobey? You had been so good, never rebelled once and listened to everything they said. But why should you? They were the ones who stopped you from living your life and you were letting them? Shouldn’t you take charge of your life and do what you want for a change? Yes. You should.

And you did. 

It was dark outside, the moon and the sparse streetlights being your only form of illumination in the night. You shuffled out of bed, sure that your parents were still adrift in a deep sleep in the early hours of the morning. Your eyes shifted to the digital clock resting on your nightstand. The block numbers glared back at you reading “2:00.”

Now was as good a time as any. You changed into something warm, the chill from the window decorated with frost telling you more than enough. You grabbed your boots from the tops, dangling them from your fingers as you quietly stepped out into the pitch black depths of the hallway. You froze for a moment, tilting your head in the direction of your parents bedroom and waiting with baited breath in hopes they wouldn’t suddenly wake and you would find them standing there. The only noise that followed in the silence of the early hours were soft snores and the beat of excitement in your chest. You would be fine. 

The perks of being trapped in your own home for so many years were evident now as you carefully side stepped each creaky floorboard and stair step as you made your way to the front door. You quickly snagged the keys from the hook drilled into the wall and swiftly unlocked the door, your final barrier to freedom a turn of a door knob away. You slipped the keys into the pocket of your thick jacket and pulled the door open, the crisp winter air greeting you and beckoning you to come outside. And, without a second thought, you took your first step into the thin layer of snow and closed the door tightly behind you.

To be honest, you didn’t really have a plan as to where you were going. You just figured it being so early in the morning that you could walk anywhere you wanted to and there would be no one to bother you or draw out your ingrained paranoia. You were set out just to go on a nice walk by yourself for the first time ever. There hadn’t been a moment in your entire life where you could leave the house alone, so you were going to have this time to yourself with no one else to bother you. At least, that was what you had initially thought.

Your nose stung from the cold air, spurring you to try and bury your face in the collar of your jacket as you continued your walk around town. All of the sights you had seen many times growing up suddenly became foreign as they were veiled in the depths of the night and there was no one else beside you. The only sound resonating through the silence was the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots and the light pants of warm air that escaped your lips. It was peaceful and comforting to you, you couldn’t remember the last time it had ever been so quiet.

You came to a stop for a moment, the street before you aglow. All down the length of the streets were shops that you had seen countless times, but now it was even more beautiful than before. The trees that were lining the streets every ten feet or so bowed elegantly over the barren road, their branches decorated with a fresh dusting of snow and soft yellow string lights for the approaching holiday season. A gentle smile curled up on your lips, for a moment it felt like this was all for you and you were the only person in the world.

The loud clammer from the alleyway ahead assured you, you weren’t. You flinched in surprise from the sudden noise, your body turning in the direction it had originated from. You were as annoyed as you were curious, you had been having such a peaceful moment only for it to be interrupted. But there was also that part of you that begged you to investigate, to see what was going on. And so, you did. 

You trudged through the snow towards the dark alleyway that was calling to you. Your mother had always told you to never wander down a dark alley, but she wasn’t here now to tell you not to. You leaned up against the brick of one of the buildings creating the crevice, tilting your head back as you listened. You could hear voices, both were male. They seemed to be arguing about something, frustration evident in both of their tones. Another loud slam was heard, and a cry of pain followed. Too curious to just listen, you leaned your head out from behind the wall and caught a glimpse of what was transpiring. 

A shock of bright red hair caught your attention and the glint of a serrated blade. The red headed man was tall and lithe, his arms tensed around the other man as he flicked out a butterfly knife and swiftly slid the thin metal across the slope of the man’s throat, a splash of red almost as bright as his hair flew across his face and splattering against his neck. The man he had been holding choked and gurgled as he slid down to the ground, swirls of red staining the pure snow beneath him.

You stared on in surprise and curiosity, watching as the red headed man lifted the deceased man from beneath his underarms and began dragging him further into the shadows of the alley. You weren’t even thinking as you took a step into the darkness, following the two further into the recesses of the void. The red head flipped open the lid of a dumpster, and with surprising strength for such a lithe form, tossed the other man inside like a bag of trash. 

You knew this was horribly wrong, you weren’t afraid but you had enough common sense to know that you shouldn’t be standing in plain sight spectating the cover up of a murder. But you were just so curious, you couldn’t help yourself. What was a few more seconds?

The red head pulled a flask from the inside of his coat, unscrewed the top, and then began dumping the contents all over the inside of the dumpster. He continued his work silently, returning the flask to its place before pulling out a little box of matches. His slender fingers pulled a single match from the container and then struck the side once, twice, and three times before it caught fire. He held it for a moment at his fingertips, admiring the glow and the warmth from the little match before flicking it into the dumpster and catching everything on fire that remained inside.

If you had been beside him at the moment, you would have seen the light of the flames crackling and waving across his features. You would have noticed the passive look settled over his face and his brown eyes so dark they could have been black looking like nothing more than a clean empty slate. You would have noticed how empty he had seemed, like a shell that had lost its soul so many years ago.

You blinked a few times, snow starting to stick to your lashes. You hadn’t even noticed it was beginning to snow. You took a step backward, turning on your heel in an attempt to make a quiet get away only to turn so quickly you didn’t notice the boxes nestled in the snow behind you. And, to your misfortune, you tripped and fell. It was loud, you just knew he had turned and seen you sprawled out in the snow you had kicked up. You groaned in pain, pressing your bare hands into the freezing snow as you pushed yourself up, clambering up and out of the boxes you had crunched beneath you.

In your struggle to stand, you hadn’t thought about the man with blazing red hair at the end of the alley. But, he didn’t forget about you. A strong hand clamped down on your shoulder and spun you around, slamming you back into the brick wall behind you. A soft groan of pain wheezed out of your chest from the impact your head had made with the wall. Apparently one brain injury wasn’t enough for you, a concussion was going to be needed as well.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, feeling the sting of the ice cold snow melting against the flesh of your face and throat. 

“What’s the matter, little girl? Scared?” The man asked, a soft chuckle accompanying his voice as he spoke. 

Your eyes snapped open at his words, confusion apparent on your face. You? Scared? Oh the irony was at its finest. You looked at him for a moment, taking in his features before slowly shaking your head ‘no.’

You had realized now, with his face so close to yours, that he was attractive. In fact, he was probably the most attractive man you had seen. But, in retrospect, you had seen few men in your day to day life. His hair was still as shocking as it had been the first time you had caught sight of it, but it was also styled nicely. He had sweet, almond shaped eyes with the darkest brown irises you had ever seen and gorgeous sun kissed skin. And, not to mention, high cheekbones that even you were envious of. A thought suddenly entered your mind as your eyes continued to trace over every feature of his alluring face. He was the perfect predator. He was tall, lithe, and strong with a beautiful face that was perfect for luring in unaware victims. You were sure that if he had beckoned for you to follow him down that dark alley, you would have followed him without question even if that weren’t in your nature. 

He was a predator, and you were his innocent prey.

A thick copper scent struck your nose, your face wrinkling from the sharp scent. You had almost forgotten about the spray of blood that decorated his face and the column of his throat. He really was the perfect killer.

You noticed the confusion mirrored in his eyes, he knew you were speaking the truth. You weren’t scared. And that either made you a threat, or made you safe. You could see the calculating look in his eyes as he sized you up, he was probably wondering if you were not afraid because you had some hero complex or if you were just plain stupid. 

A grin carved its way into his cheeks as he cocked his head to the side, his arm sliding up beside you as he leaned in closer to you. A part of you was almost grateful for the warmth his actions provided but another part of you curled up in disgust from the scent of blood that was thick in the air. And, despite everything that had happened, you were still not afraid. You were still broken, just like you always would be. 

“You really aren’t afraid, are you?” He asked, that same smile still present amidst the blood and his warmth. 

You shook your head again, still unable to find the words to say anything. You were already socially inept, and this encounter was far out of the realm of anything you had ever experienced before.

“I don’t have to worry about you opening that pretty little mouth of yours to anyone, right?” He asked, raising a hand and extending one finger to gently trace the flesh of your lower lip. The fact that that same hand that was gently caressing you had killed someone moments prior still changed nothing for you. Your heart didn’t pound in trepidation, you didn’t break out into a sweat, your lungs didn’t struggle to breath, and your legs weren’t itching to run. You were not afraid, and he could see that. You could tell he was interested, curious as to why you hadn’t started screaming for help like anyone else would. You were trembling, but it was from the cold and the cold alone.

You nodded in agreement, your eyes showing just how serious you were. You wouldn’t say anything. You weren’t afraid of him.

“Speak up sweet thing, I need to hear your words.” He cooed, eyes dark and alluring as he attempted to coax the words from you.

“I won’t say anything.” You replied, blinking slowly as he scanned your features to ensure you were being truthful with him. 

After a moment of silence, he leaned in closer to you, his warm breath misting over the shell of your ear. “I’ll be making sure you keep that promise to me.” He whispered before placing a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

You could smell the lingering copper scent as he pulled away from you, you were sure there was blood smeared over the flesh of your face. It irritated you, but it didn’t scare you. How could it?

“Won’t you come with me?” He asked, offering you his arm now that you had been freed from his tight grip.

Your gaze lingered on him and his arm held up waiting for your grasp. You had seen this in movies before, and seen it happen with people on the streets. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, still not moving from your spot against the wall. 

“I’m taking you home, I can’t have you walking alone. Who knows what kind of people are out there?” He laughed humorlessly, his arm still held upright waiting with a sharp look in his eyes. And so, you pushed off the wall and took hold of him, allowing him to guide you out of the dark alley stained crimson.

Your arm was looped securely through his own, his other free hand coming to rest on top of your arm with a tense grip. It was a warning not to run, but you had no such intentions. The two of you walked down the street lit by christmas lights and decorated with the soft flurries of snow, the coppery scent of blood thick in the crisp winter air. The man’s head remained pinned forward as the two of you walked, and you couldn’t help but look at him. He had a beautiful profile, one that models would be envious of. His long lashes were becoming thick with snow, his face twitched in discomfort as he blinked rapidly to free his lashes from the flakes. The snow clung to him and his bright red hair, it looked like the meeting of fire and ice. It was beautiful, but always meant to end in embers and consumption. How like him. 

“Why did you kill that man?” You asked, disregarding the fact that you probably shouldn’t have asked that question.

He quirked up a brow, tilting his head in your direction in a manner that suggested he had been taken aback. “I don’t think that’s a question you want answered, sweetheart.”

Your face twisted in irritation at his condescending tone. “If I didn’t want an answer, I wouldn’t have asked.”

A short laugh left his chest as he looked at you in disbelief. “You know, I don’t normally let people get away with talking to me like that.”

“Sounds like you have an ego.” You huffed, tensing your arm around his.

“I guess you could say that.” He mused, a distant smile pulling at the corners of his mouth that he tried to suppress. “My boss doesn’t favor his kind.”

“His kind?” You asked, meeting his dark eyes again. 

“People that...take advantage of children.” He explained, his jaw tensing as the words slipped past his lips. A flash of that man from the playground crossed through your mind, his rough hand tight around your wrist as he dragged you away from your group of friends. 

“I didn’t think anyone favored those kinds of people.” You said, your brows knitting together as you looked down to the snow covered sidewalk.

“They don’t. My boss especially doesn’t now that he has his own kid on the way.” He explained.

“Would I know who your boss is?” You questioned, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, attempting to seem nonchalant even though his tone was clearly telling you to drop the subject. He had already answered too many of your questions.

Another stretch of silence lapsed between the two of you, the only sound being the soft crunch of the snow beneath your boots. Somehow, your first trip alone had turned into another escort. A sigh left your lungs as you berrated yourself, why could you never do anything by yourself? But, technically hadn’t you? You had left the house all by yourself, you had made your way to town by yourself, and you had made a possible friend? A friend...you hadn’t had one of those in a long time. You flicked your eyes to him once more, shyly looking back ahead of you in a mirror image of the man beside you.

“Hey,” You breathed, your warm breath turning to fog in the chilly air. “If we’re going to be friends I think I should know your name.”

A surprised choke shook the body of the man beside you, his cool demeanor suddenly broken from your statement. “Friends?! I’ve been waiting this entire time for you to hit me and go screaming and running. I killed someone, do you have brain damage or something?”

“Technically.” You responded, your heart sinking from his words. 

His head snapped in your direction so fast you swore he could have broken his neck. His eyes had narrowed in disbelief, a warning look in his eyes that he was having enough of the attitude you had been giving him.

“I have a problem with the part of my brain that processes fear. I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear, if I did I don’t remember what it feels like.” You explained, refusing to meet his gaze in shame. This was the exact thing that had scared everyone away when you were a child, this was the very thing that had stigmatized you. No one wanted you, that much you were sure of. No one ever would. Maybe it would have been better to stay home, to have gone to sleep and never ventured out into the snowy depths of the night. You wouldn’t have to relive the rejection you faced all of those years ago, and you wouldn’t have to be reminded of the crippling loneliness and depression that plagued you. You had felt like you were nothing for such a long time.

“Hoseok.” He said, his voice jarring you from your spiraling thoughts. 

You blinked a few times, surprised he had actually told you his name. And, you smiled.

You could see your house coming up on the left, the lights were all still off. No one knew you were ever gone. You were sure, come sun rise, your tracks through the snow would be completely obscured and you could keep your secret safe. You tugged on Hoseok’s arm, gesturing to your house. He came to a stop at your doorstep, unwinding your arm from his own. A sudden tightness settled in your chest, he was going to leave you alone there. Trapped again like a pathetic princess in the proverbial tower. You had to remind yourself, Hoseok was no knight in shining armor. He was the executioner. 

“You remember what I told you, right?” He asked, trying to catch your eyes as your head remained turned to the side, your gaze locked on the front door in a stubborn child like manner. 

He huffed in annoyance at your behavior, gripping your chin with his long fingers and turning your head to face him straight on. His beautiful face was too close to you again, you could feel your breath catch in your chest. “Answer me.” He demanded. 

“Keep my mouth shut.” You replied.

“Good.” He whispered, his deep eyes scanning your face in thought. In that moment, you wished you could read his mind to understand what he was thinking. 

You could feel his grip loosening as he began to pull away from you, taking one step backwards down the stairs behind him. Almost as if you were panicking, you lunged forwards and gripped his hands in your own. 

“Please, don’t leave me alone. Stay.” You mumbled, the sadness creeping back up onto you, digging its claws into your back and taking root once more. 

A confused look crossed his features, you were just so strange. You were interesting, to say the least. He had never met anyone quite like you, so fearless but so sad. He couldn’t help but wonder what would make you want to be in the company of a killer versus the safety of your own home. But, he had already been gone for so long. He still had to report back to Namjoon, he still had a whole other day ahead of him. As much as you intrigued him, he couldn’t afford to investigate the complexity that was you any further.

You were interesting, that was what he told himself, that was the only explanation as to why he even considered your proposition. Something was festering in the back of his mind, it was slowly making itself known amongst the blend of darkness that had already seeped its way through him. He could feel it whispering to him, urging him to stay. But he refused, this time he did not give in. He pulled his hand free from yours, surprisingly gently and spoke to you once more. 

“You’re a witness to the murder I committed, do you really think I won’t be watching you?” He laughed, but once more it held no mirth. “Sleep well.” He said, before stepping away from you once more and slipping away into the shadows of the night.

And you couldn’t deny the happiness that bloomed in your chest at the thought of him remaining with you, but just out of sight like some guardian angel. The scent of blood crossed your nose again and you winced. No, Hoseok was more like a fallen angel. He was stipped of his wings and baptized in blood, bound to the shadows as he watched you bathe in the light. Your own fallen angel, sent to tempt you with the evil and darkness your mother feared you would fall victim to. Little did she know, you were a willing prey that wanted to bear your neck to the predator.

 ~~~~~~~

The rest of that early morning, Hoseok was plagued by thoughts of you. You, the impossibly innocent lamb sent to the lion for slaughter. He had replayed the events that had transpired only hours earlier, and he frustratingly found he couldn’t shake the image of your small hands wrapped around his own, your doe eyes staring at him pleadingly with streaks of blood painting your cheeks. He had been so sure the first time he has seen you in the dark of that alleyway that he would have to get rid of you, that you would be joining the body of that waste of a human being in the dumpster, or that he would have to take you back and make you into a plaything for the rest of Namjoon’s men.

He felt a tug in his chest at the thought of that. He had seen countless women torn apart and put back together by them. He had gone unfazed for so long now, the world just a blur of nothingness. Why did any of this bother him now? He had grown so accustomed to this life, he hadn’t felt anything like guilt in years. All he knew was anger, frustration, sarcasm, seduction, and sleep. So why, why did the image of your face replacing those women cause him discomfort? Why did it make him regret leaving you on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning where the sun didn’t dare threaten to peek over the horizon.

When you had asked him to stay, why did he stop and contemplate? Why did he want to follow you back into your house and keep you when you didn’t belong to him in the first place?

He stood still for a moment, his hand coming up to sift through his hair in frustration. He just couldn’t shake you from his mind. You were just interesting, that was all. That was what he told himself at least. There was one thing he couldn’t understand though, you had told him “Please, don’t leave me alone.” He didn’t understand how you could be alone. From what he could gather, you didn’t live alone. There were two cars in the driveway of a well enough sized house that he assumed someone of your age couldn’t afford alone. He was sure you couldn’t be alone, so what exactly had you meant?

He let out a sigh, attempting to gather his thoughts for a moment. He couldn’t focus on you right now, he had a meeting with Namjoon and a whole day of work set ahead of him where he would be running on no sleep. He had business to conduct, so you would have to wait. Well, you would have to wait until night again at least.

He stood outside of Namjoon’s office, rolling his sleeve up to catch a glance at his watch. Namjoon liked punctuality, he always made an effort to be on time. He raised his fist and knocked on the door, remaining still until he heard his friend’s voice call back to him. With that, he swung the door open and entered the office space. Namjoon was seated behind his desk, his eyes trained to the screen of his computer until he heard the door click into place. 

“Did you take care of the problem?” He asked, his eyes returning to his screen.

“Yeah, he won’t be a problem again.” He chuckled, his fingers tracing the shape of the butterfly knife concealed in his pocket. He could still feel the warmth of the blood splashing his face as the man crumpled to the snow like he was boneless. And again, your face returned to his mind. You were truly inescapable. 

“To think that dirty motherfucker believed he would get away with what he’s done,” Namjoon laughed bitterly, his eyes narrowing in disgust. “He came into my home and thought he could lie to my face.”

“You know how they are Namjoon, they’re spineless bottom feeders who just want to leech off of whoever they can to stay alive. It’s a wonder no one got to him before me.” Hoseok mused, his eyes fluttering shut as he reminisced about what had occurred mere hours earlier.

“He should have been taken care of a long time ago. To the others business is business, but things change when you have a child of your own.” Namjoon replied, his jaw tensing as anger shot through his veins. 

“Relax, it’s over now.” Hoseok said, standing up and approaching the desk his boss was seated behind. “There’s no use in getting angry at someone who’s long gone.”

“And you’re sure of that, he’s gone? No witnesses?” 

“Well, if slitting his throat didn’t kill him then I’m sure the fire would have done it.” He remarked, sliding his hands into his pockets as he turned on his heel. 

“You burned the body?”

“In a dumpster.” Hoseok called over his shoulder as he approached the door, readying himself to leave. “It was cold as fuck, figured I could warm myself up a bit.”

“Hoseok.” Namjoon said, his voice deadly. “You didn’t say there weren’t any witnesses.”

A silence fell between the two of them, the air was tense in the room. Hoseok’s shoulders had stiffened in response to his superior’s words, his back still facing him. He had hoped Namjoon wouldn’t notice, but nothing ever escaped him. That was something his wife was familiar with. 

“Hoseok, don’t make me repeat myself.” Namjoon said with a sigh.

“There was one, just one.” He answered, his shoulders relaxing as his eyes slid shut. He knew now what Namjoon would ask of him. Had you been anyone else, he would have followed his orders without a second thought. But you weren’t anyone else, and so now he would have to bargain for your life so he could continue to figure you out.

“You took care of that as well I’m assuming?” Namjoon asked, quirking a brow up as he waited for a response. 

“No.” Hoseok replied, his eyes tracing each grain of wood that embellished the door before him.

Namjoon sighed again, his fingers coming up to massage his temples. He already had enough things to deal with, he could go without one more. “Take care of it, Hoseok. You should know better.”

“Don’t patronize me, Namjoon.” He spat, spinning around to face him. His face was turning red with anger as he stood his ground. “You may be in charge but I haven’t forgotten about the scrawny fifteen year old I saved from getting his ass beat on the streets all those years ago.”

The atmosphere had become so tense it felt like a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter on the brink of snapping and lashing everything in its vicinity. 

“Hoseok, you may be my friend but you’re also my partner. You know better than anyone what loose ends can do to people in our line of work. It’s best to cut them off and move on, this isn’t anything you haven’t done before so why, for the first time, are you making it into such a big deal? What aren’t you telling me?”

Hoseok stood there for a moment, stunned that Namjoon hadn’t lost his shit from what he had said. Namjoon had been his friend for years, and that friendship had endured many moments where the two of them lost their temper and almost beat the shit out of one another. Time had changed his friend, it had turned him into a man with a wife, a baby on the way, and an empire as his fingertips. How had he not noticed how much had changed, how far he had fallen behind Namjoon? How long could he keep living this lonely life of blood, death, and apathy? He knew that was something he shared with you, he was lonely. But, where loneliness had made you meek, it made him cold. 

“She won’t tell anyone.” Hoseok mumbled, tiredly rubbing his face. “She knows not to.”

“You really want to risk this? For one insignificant person, after the countless amount of people we have disposed of?” Namjoon asked, leaning against the front of his desk in disbelief. 

“She’s different, Joon. I can’t explain it, but I know that I need to keep her alive.” Hoseok sighed, he was conflicted. On one hand there was his allegiance to the life he had embedded himself in. On the other hand, there was you.

“Oh,” Namjoon said, pausing as he took in what he had heard. “I see now. She’s different.”

“I’m not like you, Joon. I’m not sick the way that you are.” Hoseok laughed, because it was the truth. Namjoon was sick, and Hoseok knew he wasn’t one to talk. He too had killed and done deplorable things. But he hadn’t manipulated another person’s life like a puppet master to its marionette. He had done his job, Namjoon had written someone’s life for them. 

“There’s something you need to understand, brother,” Namjoon spoke, sitting down next to the red head and resting his hand on his shoulder. “We’re all sick, to do what we do you have to be. I’m beginning to think these urges are buried in all of us, hiding beneath the surface and waiting to lunge at the right opportunity. That has to be the truth, I mean what are the odds that there are so many of us. Me, Yoongi, Jimin, and now you. It’s like we flock to one another because subconsciously we all know that we’re alike. We’re all depraved and disgustingly sick.”

Hoseok remained still, his eyes trained forward as Namjoon spoke to him. Maybe he was right. That would explain what he was experiencing. It was like meeting you was the trigger, and now all he could do was spiral down and down until he was just as bad as Namjoon. He could feel that pull in his chest even now, far away from you. It was telling him to go back to you, berating him for leaving you. Hoseok didn’t know what love was, he had never felt it before. But Namjoon had, and it had led him to happiness. 

“There’s darkness in all of us, Hoseok. It’s just more prevalent in some than in others.” Namjoon explained, patting his shoulder twice. It felt like he had a serpent hissing directly into his ear, begging him to take a bite of the forbidden fruit. 

“Go get some rest, you had a long night. You look like shit.”  

 ~~~~~~~

Hoseok had spent the rest of his day in bed with the curtains drawn closed tight. The second he had hit his mattress, he was out. And even as he slept, his dreams were plagued by you. Namjoon has successfully poisoned his thoughts, because now he couldn’t stop thinking of what it would be like when he saw you next. He couldn’t help but picture himself and you in the place of Namjoon and his wife. Is that what it would be like? Is that what it was supposed to be like? He didn’t think he felt the way Namjoon did about his wife. He had met you one time, one time you had caught his attention. Hoseok new lust, seduction, and sex. He didn’t know love, he wasn’t capable of it.

No, you were just interesting. That could be the only explanation.

And, as promised, he found himself back at your house that night. What he said was true, he needed to watch you to make sure you didn’t go squealing. But he also couldn’t deny that his own curiosity was influencing him as well as Namjoon’s words. What harm could come from testing his theory?

He sat in the driver’s seat of his car parked across the street from your house. He could see that the lights were still on in one room of the house, the rest were completely black. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel in anticipation, debating if he should get out of the car and investigate further. Something in the back of his mind was telling him to test the doors and windows and see if one had been forgotten, left unlatched for him to enter. He shook the thought from his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he attempted to think of something else.

He knew he had a long night ahead of him, he had slept the day away and now his inner clock was completely fucked. He took another breath before he opened his eyes and drew his attention to the single illuminated window of the house. At first, he didn’t see anything and he could feel the anticipation gnawing at him as he waited for you. And then, you were there. He could see you moving around your room in the late hours of the night and he was instantly drawn to you. He had forgotten how pretty you were to him, the first time he had seen you he hadn’t thought much about it but now it seemed like the only thing he could think about.

A part of him wondered if it was your innocence that pulled him in, how blunt and trusting you were. In his line of work, there was no one like that. He could remember your wide innocent eyes staring into his own, the shock evident on your face when he had pinned you up against the wall. You had been surprised, but there was no fear. He would be lying if he said he wanted you to be afraid. In that moment he had first met you, that was what he wanted. He wanted you to be scared so he wouldn’t have to kill you and so he could get a reaction out of you for his own twisted amusement. He wasn’t a good person, that much he knew. For a long time he had derived happiness from others' pain. But now, he didn’t want you to be afraid of him. He knew he wanted you to need him, and need him you did.

Perhaps Namjoon’s influence had been stronger than he had previously thought. Whereas meeting you had planted the seeds of desire, Namjoon had coaxed them to branch out and envelope him. Maybe he was sicker than he knew, now all he could think of was taking you for his own and corrupting you. There was a part of him that wanted to rip the wings from his angel and trap her in the underworld with him. But there was also another part of him that wanted to protect her from everything and everyone. It was a dark dichotomy, and he was scared to find out which side would win.

His eyes trailed over your form as you crossed your room, pulling open drawers and removing clothes from them. You threw an oversized shirt on your bed and ran your fingers through your hair tiredly as you yawned before dipping your fingers down to the bottom of the shirt you were wearing. He knew the right thing to do would be to look away, to stop violating your privacy. But Hoseok rarely did the right thing, and now wouldn’t prove any differently. He watched you slide your shirt over the length of your stomach, the curve of your ribs, and the top of your chest. He could feel his grip tighten on the steering wheel as he watched you. How had he been relatively unaffected by you yesterday, but now became an animal at the sight of you removing a layer of clothing? If he wasn’t sick before then he had to be now. You threw the shirt to the side, digging your fingers into the waistband of your pants as you began pulling them down your legs before shuffling them off of your feet leaving you clad in your bra and panties. They didn’t match, he noted to himself, they were thrown on purely for function and comfort. It was when your hands disappeared behind your back that he drew the line, clenching his eyes shut as he tilted his head back against the headrest. 

God, he felt like an animal. How had only a few hours apart from you turned him into this? He had said it before and he would say it again. He was sick, and Namjoon was right. Each day - no, each hour, it would only grow worse until he finally satiated himself and got what he wanted. 

And he knew this would only be the start, and a small part of him felt incredibly sorry for you that you had someone as evil as him looking after you and wanting you. But that sickness would only fester and he was its willing host.

This would come to be one of many nights where he would watch you.

 ~~~~~~~

After the first time you met Hoseok you didn’t see him again. You had thought it would only be a matter of time before he showed up at your door, coming to interrogate you and make sure you had followed his orders. But he had done none of that, and that momentary freedom from loneliness you had felt with him had become exactly that, momentary. 

Weeks had passed and you had grown antsy once more, longing to step foot outside again. But this time, you had become more ballsy. 

It was noon, broad daylight, and you were determined to leave. You shrugged on your jacket and lifted your boots with two fingers, bouncing down the stairs in a hurry. Once you reached the bottom step you seated yourself upon it and began to shove your boots onto your feet in a rush to escape. But your efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed, your body instantly tensing in frustration when the call of your name echoed down the hallway. It was your mom. 

“Hunny, is that you?” She called. 

“Yeah, mom. I’m heading out real quick, I’ll be back.” You responded, tightening the laces of your boots before standing up and walking away from the stairs. A loud clatter shot down the hallway from the kitchen, it sounded like she had dropped a pan. In seconds you heard the fast steps of your mother as she rushed towards the front door. 

“You should have told me earlier, now you’re going to have to wait for me to get ready!” She scolded you, throwing open the hallway closet to grab her winter jacket.

“Mom. I’m going alone.” You replied, standing your ground as she slowly looked up at you, confusion evident on her face.

“Sweetheart, you know that’s not how things work.” She began, taking in a deep breath to compose herself with a hint of a smile on her lips like she thought you were joking.

“Things change, mom. I’m going out by myself whether you like it or not.” You replied, clenching your jaw as you approached the door and wrapped your fingers around the cold metal handle. Before you could twist it and allow the cool winter air to greet you, your mother grabbed you by the back of your jacket and tried to pull you back. 

“You know I can’t let you do that, it’s dangerous for you out there, you could get into trouble. Your condition is-”

“It’s what, mom?” You asked, a sudden heat flushing through your veins. “Are you going to remind me how fucked up I am?” 

“Don’t talk to me like that, you won’t use that language in my house! I’m your mother!”

“And why can’t I? I’m an adult, I’m not the little kid you still think I am. I’m twenty years old and I’ve never left the house by myself, I have no friends, and I can’t get a job! I have nothing except hatred for myself! You and dad made me hate myself, are you happy? Is that what you wanted?!”

“Don’t say that,”

“Why? Because it’s the truth? I’m a waste of space, I have nothing and I’ve done nothing and all I’m asking for is to be able to go outside without an escort like I’m some goddamn basket case.” You yelled back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. God you hated that, crying when you got angry like you were some toddler that didn’t know how to handle their own emotions. 

“Sweetheart...I didn’t know.” She whispered, her voice cracking as she reached out for you.

“Of course you wouldn’t, you never asked. But you don’t need to worry now, I’ll just go back to the tower where I belong.” You bit back, turning in a hurry and stomping your way up the stairs, making sure to slam your door shut as hard as you could. You really were a child weren’t you? You reacted exactly how a child would, with tears, anger, and retreating from the problem. But you were far too pissed to consider any of that now. No, now you were fuming.

You didn’t leave your room for the rest of the day, refusing to face your mother or your father when he returned from work. You were stubborn by nature, much like your mother. So, they knew better than to approach you while you were still hot. While your father didn’t like going to sleep with a problem still hanging over everyone’s heads, he knew this particular problem was more suited for the next morning when the tension would dissipate.

So, like the metaphorical child you were, you stayed in isolation pouting and replaying the events that had occurred. Not only had you gotten into a fight with your mother, but you hadn’t been able to find Hoseok. Your day was really a shitty one that you just couldn’t remedy.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon you grew even more restless, and you doubted that sleep would find you that night. The darker your room became the more antsy you felt, your body twisting in your sheets as you tried your hardest to fall asleep. Each minute passing felt like an eternity to you but in reality was mere seconds. You found yourself rolling over more than once to keep checking the time on your phone. And each time you were disappointed. 

You threw yourself forward with an annoyed huff, running your fingers through your messy hair. You sat up in the dark for a few moments, clenching your eyes shut and listening to the ringing in your ears from the silence humming in the empty room. With another groan, you flipped the sheets off of your body and stumbled free from the warmth of your bed.  You cringed from the chill of your floor as you shuffled across it, coming to a stop in front of your window. The street was still dark, just barely illuminated by the streetlamps that were scattered down the length of the road. It was snowing again too, thick and fluffy flakes falling heavily to the already blanketed earth.

And there was that car again, parked across the street with it’s own dusting of snow coating the sleek black paint. You had assumed it was your neighbor’s car, something new he had splurged on from his mid life crisis so that he would feel younger when he snuck off to meet his mistress. Being a shut in had turned you into a people watcher, and by default that meant you knew a lot of things about your neighbors. Much more than they would be comfortable with knowing. 

You squinted harder as you tried to get a closer look at the car. From what you could tell, it was on. The windows had barely any snow on them so that must mean the heat was running. You stood there in confusion, why would the car be running at two in the morning? 

And then it clicked, Hoseok. 

So, he had been watching you just like he promised. You couldn’t deny that your heart quickened at the thought of that, your cheeks flushing as you hoped he hadn’t seen you do anything embarrassing. You chewed your lip as you contemplated what you would do next, in fact what should you do? You knew the right thing to do would be to call the authorities and have them deal with Hoseok. You should turn him in and go back to your life as it was before him. But you didn’t want to do that, much like a child you wanted to have everything go your way. You kept trying to convince yourself that it was okay to want him and that he wasn’t a bad person. If someone kills a horrible human being, does that really make it wrong? How many children had he saved by ending that man’s life? Countless, you were sure. 

Hoseok wasn’t a bad guy, he was just as lonely as you were. So that’s why you did what you did. Much like the first night you had encountered Hoseok, you crept downstairs and approached your front door. The temperature dropped the closer you got to the entrance, spurring you to cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to keep yourself warm. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you undid the lock of the door and scampered back up the stairs, wrapping the blanket that rested at the foot of your bed around your shoulders as you shuddered.

Now wrapped up in the warmth of your blanket you tiptoed back to your window, pushing the curtains aside to make sure the sleek black car was still situated across the street. It still was, appearing to not have moved an inch. With that you withdrew from the window and crossed the room to your light switch. You slid a hand over your eyes, so you wouldn’t blind yourself, and then proceeded to flick the lights on and off slowly and five times in a row. That way, hopefully, he would know it’s deliberate and make his way inside. Because, as much as you wanted to see him, you really didn’t feel like trudging back out into the frigid air and you were sure he would be more comfortable in the warmth of your room than the cramped cab of his undeniably gorgeous car. 

After the final flash of light you returned back to your window, peering outside like a child seeing their first snowfall. You waited with baited breath, hoping that he would realize what you were doing. And, for a few moments, nothing happened and you could feel your heart sinking in disappointment. That was of course until the engine cut and the driver side door swung open. Your heart quickened in excitement as you watched him emerge from his car, his hair looked like a flame in the blizzard of snow that was coming down. He was impossible to miss. 

You watched him cross the dark street and make his way to your front door like he had all those weeks ago when your arm had been wrapped around his own. You were sure your cheeks were flushed from the memory of how warm he had been pressed against your side. As soon as he made it to your front door, he peered up at your window situated to the top left of the door. So, he had been watching you all this time. He even knew which room was yours. 

Why didn’t that thought bother you in the slightest? Why did it make your heart skip a beat and your body erupt with tingles. You knew the answer, it was because it felt good to be wanted. To be wanted when you were so irrevocably alone felt akin to euphoria. You didn’t care much at this point about what he had done, who he was, why he was watching you, you just knew you didn’t want to feel so lonely anymore. But, for all you knew, he had been waiting for the opportune moment to kill you and you had just invited him into your home. And if that was what he had come to do, you would gladly welcome the angel of death with open arms. 

Hoseok’s dark eyes met your own in the veil of the night, a slight gleam shining in them. He was waiting for your permission. You looked back at him and replied with a swift nod, jerking your head in the direction of the door. And, with your permission, he entered your house and escaped the snow storm raging on in the early hours of the morning. 

You shook with excitement as you opened your bedroom door, leaving it ajar so he knew which one to come to. You then hastily returned to your bed, seating yourself at the end with your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. You held your breath, your chest tightening as you listened for him. Your ears were ringing from the strain and the quiet as you waited, and sure enough you could hear his soft steps ascending your stairs. You cocked your head to the side, noticing that he had missed every single creaky board of the steps. It was almost like he knew them as well as you did. 

A part of you was highly amused with the situation you had gotten yourself into, were you anyone else this scene would be rather different. The sound of his steps becoming louder and closer would have spurred you to hide in your closet or under your bed in a panic, your heart beat like thunder in your ears while tears strolled down the curves of your face in fear as your clammy palm cupped your mouth and nose in a desperate attempt to keep yourself hidden. 

But that couldn’t be any further from the truth. It was taking everything you had not to leap from the bed and run to him, not away from him. But you didn’t have to wait any longer, he had already found you. It would have been hard to see him if it hadn’t been for his bright hair. He was dressed all in black and settled at the threshold of your room. His eyes were just as dark as his attire, intense as they stared at you perched at the end of your bed swaddled in a fluffy blanket. The difference between the two of you couldn’t be any greater, on the outside at least. But you knew the similarities were just as strong, the both of you had been embraced by the darkness of the night. Two lonely souls that came for one another like magnets.

Maybe you were a helpless romantic, or maybe you were incredibly sick. But aren’t both one in the same?

You smiled at him, your grin bright despite the darkness of your room. He didn’t return the gesture, his face remained fairly passive as you beckoned him forward. He seemed to be on guard, like he was waiting for something. After a moment's hesitation, he grasped the handle of your door and swiftly shut it without a sound before slowly crossing the room and coming to stand before you.

“Sit with me.” You whispered, your voice seemed so loud even though you knew it to be soft. You patted the empty space by your side and scooted over a few inches to allow him room. He did as you asked, turning and sitting in one smooth motion. Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if Hoseok was even human, he was so efficient at everything he did. At least until he opened his mouth. That was where his true character lied, he reminded you of a chameleon, constantly changing himself to suit the situation. With the man in the alley he had been cold and domineering, deadly. When he first met you he tried to frighten you, and then he tried to seduce you. And when neither worked he became startling annoyed. He didn’t like not knowing how to act as you presumed. He didn’t know who he was anymore. 

You eyed him from the side as he looked straight forward into the shadowy depths of your room, he was acting much like he did when he walked you home all those weeks ago. Distant, unsure, on edge. You could see his jaw tense the longer you stared at him, his hands had grasped the fabric of his pants and dug into them, like he was anchoring himself to the spot. Like he was trying his best not to pay any attention to you. 

And to be honest that pissed you off. After all, you had been waiting for him all this time and had invited him into your home, into your own room. The audacity. 

“You kept me waiting.” You mused, your own annoyance evident in your tone as your fingers played with one another.

Hoseok swung his head to your direction, surprise plastered to his face. He hadn’t expected you to be upset.

“It’s really boring here you know, not much to do and not many people to see. You could have been a little more considerate and given me a heads up that that was you across the street.” You said, crossing your arms. 

“You shouldn’t be happy to see me.” He whispered back to you, he still looked confused and you could see a hint of desperation in his eyes like he was hoping you would listen to him. “I’m not a good person, I’ll only bring you trouble.”

“Contrary to popular belief I’m not completely helpless, Hoseok. I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions and if I want to be happy to see you then I will be.” You shot back, frustration bubbling in your veins. 

“If you can make your own decisions then why don’t you ever leave the house?” He replied, his brows raising as if to say he had made a point. Which he did. “What’s stopping you from leaving when you want to? I’ve sat outside of your house for three weeks now and not once did I see you leave on your own, until today when you tried.”

You swallowed hard, taking a moment for yourself before you answered his questions. “I’m not allowed to leave the house alone. My condition sometimes puts me in the wrong place at the wrong time, as you know, and I can’t tell when I’m in danger most of the time. When I was little, a man tried to kidnap me and I didn’t do anything. I didn’t scream or call for help. I just went along with him and asked where we were going because I didn’t know anything was wrong. After that, my parents had me glued to their side. I didn’t go anywhere without them, until that night I met you.”

“You never went anywhere by yourself?”

“Never.” You echoed. 

“Why don’t you leave now? You said you’re an adult so leave, there’s nothing they can do to stop you.”

“I’ve never had a job. I have no money, no credit score, nothing. If I left I would be living on the streets.” You answered, noticing the slight twitch of his eye at the last part of your explanation. 

“So, you’re stuck.”

“So I’m stuck.” You nodded, your teeth grinding together at the thought as you stared down as your hands clasped together. Like the proverbial princess in her tower, you were indeed stuck.

You shook your head a little, trying to physically clear those thoughts from your head. You tightened your blanket around your shoulders and pivoted to face him, crossing your legs over one another. Hoseok chuckled at the sight of you, it was a clear and pleasant sound that slightly took you off guard. That was probably the most genuine reaction you had gotten out of him besides frustration, sarcasm, and annoyance. 

“So creepy, did you enjoy watching me for three weeks?” You joked, a mischievous smile gracing your lips. 

“I’m not creepy, I was doing my job.” He explained, seemingly defensive and stoic. But you could see the clear flush to the tips of his ears, he was flustered. He was just very good at hiding it otherwise.

“So, doing your job involves watching a poor, innocent girl changing?” You laughed, wiggling your eyebrows in a teasing manner.

“I was supposed to keep tabs on you and make sure you didn’t go running for the hills the moment you got the chance.”

“And lucky for you that simply wasn’t an option for me.” You sighed, rolling your eyes as you playfully nudged the man beside you. He was still so warm, just as warm as you remember him to be when you were walking side by side as the crystal snowflakes fluttered gently to the ground that one bloody night.

“Yeah, lucky.” He chuckled in agreement, looking down at his shoes with an indiscernible expression.

“Hoseok, you never denied it.” You whispered, tracing the profile of his face with your eyes. You followed the elegant slope of his nose down to the curves of his lips. It wasn’t fair that he got to be so beautiful. There was a part of you that wanted to reach out and trace the gentle curves of his face, but you also didn’t know how he would react and the last thing you wanted was to upset him and make him leave. You really didn’t want him to leave. 

He slowly turned to face you, almost reluctantly. His eyes darted around for a moment, clearly uncomfortable, before finally settling on your face. You loved his eyes, that was something you weren’t ashamed of. Where some might think they were cold and stern, they reminded you of coals. Something dark and frigid that just needed a little attention to flare to life. And you could see those embers beginning to stir within their depths. 

“Hoseok, did you watch me change?” You asked once more, your tongue darted out to wet your lower lip as you craned your neck back to look him dead in his eyes. 

His eyes flicked down to the flesh of your lips, lingering there in a daze. In that moment it seemed like he was far away from you, despite the fact that he was staring at you. You waited patiently for him to come back to you, delicately resting your hand on his knee. 

“And what if I did? Would you be scared then?” He asked, staring back down at you like a lion that had just cornered it’s prey. And, to your shame, your heart was thundering in excitement. How far could you push him before he would pounce?

“No.” You replied, your voice firm with a tinge of a smile in your tone. No matter what he did, you would never be afraid of him. He enthralled you, and much like a drug you simply wanted more and more of him each time you would meet. Being with him made you feel alive.

After a few tense moments of silence between the two of you, Hoseok’s eyes slid shut and clenched as he released a deep exhale of air. And again, it seemed like he was struggling with himself. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was fighting a losing battle with how much strain he was displaying for you. After another few moments he withdrew from you, sliding off the edge of your bed and coming to stand. You hadn’t realized just how close the two of you had been to one another until he was gone.

“I think I should go now.” He said, looking more composed now than he did before. As he went to turn you stood and wrapped your hand around the warm flesh of his wrist causing him to still mid step.

 “Hoseok.” You whispered through the dark.

At the sound of your voice he turned back to face you, only to allow your fingers to curl into the collar of his shirt and yank him down to your level, pressing your lips against his own. That was the one good thing about not being afraid, you could do this without a second thought. 

Your heart was pounding violently, sending trembles throughout your body. No matter how many times you had thought about it, read about it, nothing could have prepared you for how good it felt. How right it felt. His lips were soft and warm and fit so perfectly against your own you couldn’t help but lean further into him, your knees feeling weak as your fingers loosened their grip on his shirt. 

It wasn’t fair, how beautiful and dangerous he was. Everything about him was made to draw you in and be at his mercy. For so long you had been alone and cold, but now there was fire spreading through your veins and a warmth that was thawing the never ending winter. What you would give to make him stay.

Hoseok remained still beneath your touch and the sweet press of your lips. For once he didn’t know what to do, he was scared of what he would do if he finally gave in to the siren call of temptation. He wanted you, desperately. There was no getting around that. And fuck, did you know how to tempt him. For weeks he could only imagine what it would feel like to have you pressed against him, no way of escape in sight. He was tormented by the sight of you stripping in your bedroom while he rooted himself to his seat. He hadn’t felt this way in years, having fallen into the same routine since he was sixteen. All he knew how to do was survive, and he didn’t care who had to die if it meant Namjoon and he got to make it another year. He had grown cold, callous, empty and angry. You were the first person to make him feel again, but he knew what loving you would do to him. It wouldn’t be long before he joined the others, poisoned by their dark nature and sweet taste of sin.

 Feeling would be painful, and loving you would be torture.

When he felt your hesitance, your body drifting from his own and your inexperienced kiss leaving his lips, he made up his mind. He was going to hell anyways and he didn’t care if he had to rip the wings from his sweet angel to take her with him. You were his now, his prey to feast on as he pleased. 

Your eyes had grown accustomed to the dark now, and you could see Hoseok clearly lit by the glow of the moon. He looked ethereal with desire burning in the depths of his eyes. You could feel the intensity of his gaze burning into you as he reclosed the door behind him and sauntered forward, lifting you from beneath your thighs and dropping you onto your bed. Without any hesitation he pressed you back into your mattress and climbed on top of you, caging you in beneath him. And before you could even catch your breath he reclaimed your lips. You were frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. His kiss was nothing like yours, it was hot and hungry and needy. It was experienced in a way you never could have been.

You could feel his fingers lightly tracing the skin of your cheek and curving down to gently grip your chin, the light pressure trying to coax you into parting your lips for him. Your heart was pounding excitedly in your chest, it was so hard and fast you were sure he could feel it between the two of you. 

You couldn’t stop the broken whine that left your mouth even if you tried, not when his tongue moved so teasingly against the swelling flesh of your sensitive lower lip. You never knew something like this could feel so good, so exciting, and so warm. For years all you wanted to do was leave, but now you would give anything to stay right here with him. 

All it took was one more little gasp from your parted lips to allow him to deepen the kiss, and he didn’t dare hesitate. His grip was nearly bruising as he grasped the flesh of your thigh, hitching it up to wrap around his waist and allow your other leg to follow so you could draw him in impossibly closer. Your fingers quickly found their way to his bright red hair, entangling themselves into the soft tresses so tightly so that he couldn’t part far from you. 

God, you must be sick. There can’t be any other explanation, there has to be something wrong with you to not be disgusted by him. How could you allow his hands to caress you and trace the curves of your body? The very same hands that had slit another human’s throat with no remorse. You were so blind, you considered your personal stalker to be your guardian angel when he was so obviously the polar opposite. But you wanted him, more than you had wanted anything in your entire life besides your freedom. 

Every break between the two of you was brief, both of you reconnecting quickly after each breath of air. Each quick, hard kiss left your lips tingling and your chest tightening. You had never felt so light headed in your life. You could get high off of his kisses, that much you were sure of.

A high whine escaped you as you felt him pull away, raising yourself up in a desperate attempt to continue. An amused chuckle sounded through your silent room, you could still feel his hands wrapped securely around your thighs letting you know he wasn’t going far. He pressed himself back to you, settling his face into the gentle slope of your neck and shoulder. You could feel the light drag of his lips on your neck, just barely there as he breathed in your scent. To him, you were just as addictive and he knew he would never get enough of you. 

You jolted at the feeling of a kiss being planted to your neck, the feeling unfamiliar and intoxicating. Despite your initial reaction he continued, gently laying a trail of kisses down the column of your neck and leading down your shoulder. Your breathless pants of air were cacophonous in the still air of your bedroom, so loud you could have sworn anyone would be able to hear. Your hand was still tangled in his hair, your grip tightening with each press of his mouth to your sensitive skin. So, this is what it felt like to be in heaven and hell. 

Hoseok sighed into your skin, for someone with so much experience even he could feel himself becoming overwhelmed. It was you, only you could do this to him and he had no idea how you managed to do it. All it took was a few kisses to turn him into a mess, something that hadn’t happened to him since he was fifteen. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to leave his mark imprinted on your skin, he desperately wanted to see your throat decorated with a purple necklace of hickies. He carefully trailed his fingers up beneath your top, spurred on by the sweet gasps that broke free from you for him. He carefully traced the expanse of your skin, skimming over your navel and delicately running over the curves of your ribs. God, did he want you. He wanted you more than he had ever wanted anyone in his entire life. 

“Fuck.” He groaned, the first word he had spoken in what seemed like forever. You weren’t wearing a bra.

You jerked away from his touch once more, your inexperience was showing yet again. You couldn’t deny how good he had made you feel up until that point, but at the same time it had quickly become all too much. He had a wild look in his eyes, propped up on his forearms as he stared at you. Your cheeks were flushed, harsh gasps for air leaving your lungs and swollen lips. No one had ever looked more irresistible to him, and there was a darker part of him that wanted to pin you down and have his way with you right then and there. 

“My parents.” You simply said, still trying to catch your breath. 

“We can be quiet.” He countered, stroking the flesh of your thigh. 

“Maybe you can, but I can’t.” You responded, gripping his shoulders to help you scoot up into a seated position. 

His eyes slid closed once more, practice patient draws of air filling the silence once more. The uncomfortable tightness of his pants was apparent as well as the knowledge there wasn’t much he could do about it. But, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you so he decided he wouldn’t be a little bitch and complain about his discomfort. Once he had composed himself as much as he could, his eyes reopened and stared back at you. You, his sweet forbidden fruit. 

“I think it’s time I get going.” He whispered to you, inching backwards off of the bed. 

A flash of panic crossed your face as you rose to your knees, your hands grasping his wrist once more not unlike the two previous times you had done so. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

There it was again, that same phrase you had uttered the first time he had left you on your doorstep. Your eyes were just as big and pleading as they had been the first time, but now they were paired with your flushed cheeks and sweet lips. How could he say no again when it had been painful the first time as well? 

Without saying another word he gently removed your hand from his wrist and crossed the room, twisting the lock of your door so that your privacy together would go uninterrupted. He turned again and came to a stop at the end of your bed. He slipped his jacket off of his shoulders before folding it perfectly and setting it aside. He undid the top three buttons of his shirt and unbuckled his belt, sliding it free from his pants. Finally, he toed his boots off and set them down by the foot of your bed for when he would leave. 

“Ever had a sleepover, sweet thing?” He joked, a charming smile gracing his lips. You were shocked by the sight, haven grown accustomed to the dry and forced smiles he had used before. His true smile was heart achingly beautiful, you knew it would quickly become something you would always want to see. 

Hoseok peeled back your sheets, sliding into them like he was meant to be there. A soft smile had found its way to your face as you turned on your side and faced him. This was a sight you could get used to seeing. Funnily enough, he was thinking the same thing. Without a second thought you closed the distance between the two of you and buried yourself into the warmth of his chest. You had become so amused by this, everything seemed so cold and frigid without him, he had so quickly become your sun; your source of warmth and light in the darkness of your cell. How could you ever live again the way you had before after seeing the sun for the first time?

His arm curled around your waist and kept you there, tucked into his chest. You were certain nothing would ever make you want to leave this moment. Not when for the first time in so long you had become freed from the crushing weight of loneliness. But, if only you had known how quickly things could change. Trapped in a child like paradise, you were so sure that nothing could possibly go wrong. Until it did. 

 ~~~~~~~

When you woke up, he was gone. The only sign he had actually been there was the scent of him that had been trapped in your sheets.  That much told you you weren’t completely crazy and had imagined everything that had taken place only hours earlier. You carefully rolled over onto his side, pressing your face into the pillow he had laid on. How ridiculous you must have looked. 

A sharp knock to your door had you rolling out of bed, curious as to what all the commotion was about. 

“Come on, we need to talk.” It was your dad. He was the more level headed one out of the two of your parents, although that wasn’t saying much considering how he had agreed with your mother on keeping you contained in the house for all of your life. 

“I’ll be down.” You called through the door, waiting to hear his retreating steps before you did anything else. 

Once he had left, you finally took a good look at yourself. And fuck were you a mess. Your hair was disheveled, an absolute mess. But that wasn’t the worst of your problems, no, the set of bruises lining your throat were far more problematic. 

“Hoseok!” You hissed, cursing the man that wasn’t even present. 

You searched your closet until you finally found a hoodie that would do the best job at covering the evidence of your late night rendezvous, not wanting to be in any more trouble than you already were for screaming at your mother the day before. 

Once you deemed yourself decent enough, you undid the lock on your door and made your way downstairs. You already knew where your parents would be, in the kitchen where you tended to settle all of your debates. And of course the two of them were seated at the kitchen table awaiting your arrival. 

A glance at the clock sent a wave of shock through your body. It was noon, you had slept the entire day away after what had happened with Hoseok. If only you could sleep through the conversation you were about to have. 

You gripped the back of the chair, sliding it away from the table causing the groan of wood against wood to echo throughout the room. You seated yourself quickly, ready to get the conversation done and over with. 

“Now, before you say anything I want you to know your mother and I have already discussed the situation.” Your dad said, a gentle look of understanding on his face. “And we understand that you have been living a rather stifled life at best.”

You nodded in agreement, your skepticism clear as day plastered to your face. Nothing ever went your way with your parents and you weren’t expecting anything to change now. 

“So, we think it might be a better idea to have you live with your sister for a while.”

“You're...serious?” You asked, the disbelief clear and present. 

Your mother nodded in agreement, her jaw clenched and tense. You could tell that she was still not fully sold on the idea. She still didn’t want you to leave, even if it meant it would be better for you. 

“One hundred percent.” Your dad agreed. “But, there will still be some restrictions in place for your own safety. You’ll have a certain amount of time where you can leave by yourself and experience the world. But, if you don’t adhere to the time constraint we’ll have to assume you’re not taking us seriously and bring you back home. This way, you don’t have to be here and you can have some freedom. And, if this goes well, there isn’t any reason why you can’t leave whenever you want to.” He explained.

In all honesty, you didn’t care that it wasn’t exactly what you wanted because it was enough. You were going to leave the house, you were going to be able to do things on your own without a guard dog following you around wherever you went. You could see Hoseok whenever you wanted to. And if that didn’t sweeten the deal then you didn’t know what did. 

You had never been more excited in your life, bouncing up and down like a twelve year old that just found out they were going to Disney. And on top of that you were far more excited to deliver the news to a certain redhead.

Luckily, you had slept the day away which meant you didn’t have to wait for long for night fall. You were sure Hoseok would return again, having seen that car parked across the street for weeks on end had been enough to reassure you that he would return. And return he did. 

Once again his car was parked across the street, and again you singled to him like you had before. This time you waited impatiently at your bedroom door, peering into the dark hallway as you looked for his silhouette. Hoseok was rather good at sneaking around, the only sign that he had entered the house being the chill of wind that rushed its way up the stairs from the brief opening and closing of the front door. He was absolutely silent, stepping over every creaky floorboard and shaky step almost as well as you did. The second you caught sight of him rounding the top of the stairs you waved him over urgently, reaching out to him to rush his even steps. 

Once his hand met yours you slipped backwards into your room, watching him shut the door behind him with ease. He seemed happier now somehow, not as cold and calm as he had been at the beginning of the night before. He seemed comfortable, and nothing could make you happier than having him want to be there with you. You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face as you squeezed his hand, for once everything was finally going your way.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Hoseok asked, the amusement in his voice clear as he moved closer to you in the depths of the dark.

You were about to bust at the seams, unable to keep in your excitement any longer. “They’re letting me leave!” You whisper yelled, bouncing slightly in happiness. 

For a moment, silence passed between the two of you. You could've sworn you felt Hoseok tense beneath your grip before he spoke. “What?”

“I know, trust me no one is more surprised than I am. They’re letting me move in with my sister, I can go outside by myself for a little bit every day! I’ll be able to see you whenever I want, I can finally be free, isn’t that great?” 

“No.” He said, letting it out before he could stop himself. He could see your brows knit together in confusion, you didn’t understand him. 

“Hoseok...what do you mean no?” You asked, the hurt clear in your voice. 

Where you felt like your world was just beginning, Hoseok felt like his was crashing and burning. You couldn’t leave him, that wasn’t an option. Over the past few weeks he had grown accustomed to being able to watch you whenever he wanted to, he always knew where you were because you were never allowed to leave. He was your faithful guarddog who made sure no harm would ever befall you. But if he couldn’t keep you locked up, safe and secure, how could he ever be certain you would be alright, that you would stay with him? He was sure if you were given the chance you would leave him just like everyone else did. And that was simply something he couldn’t allow. No, he liked seeing you caged like the sweet songbird you were, and if given the choice he would lock you up himself and throw away the key. You weren’t allowed to leave him alone.

“You can’t leave, you know that right? It isn’t safe.” He said, trying to use a calming and collected tone to make you see reason. 

“What do you mean it isn’t safe, Hoseok? People go about their lives every day and nothing happens to them. I can do this, I’ll be fine and we’ll get to see each other all the time. I’m not afraid, you know that.”

“But you should be, and you know that. How am I supposed to take care of you if you go off and run to places I don’t know about? You’re a magnet for danger and for trouble, I can’t trust you to take care of yourself.” He bit back, he was easily becoming annoyed. He was trying his damn hardest to make you stay, to realize that you were better off separated from the world and isolated with him. The world didn’t deserve you, it would only taint your innocence as far as he was concerned. 

“You’re starting to sound like my parents.” You responded, your voice stiff and tinged with tears. You were trying to stop yourself from devolving into angry tears, frustrated that you were an angry crier. It felt like the only person who you thought understood you was betraying you. Just like your parents, he was demeaning you and treating you like a child that didn’t know what was good for them. 

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.” He said, that stern tone still present. And there he went again, avoiding statements that he didn’t want to respond to. God, you hated it when he did that. 

“Then maybe you should go, because that would honestly be the best thing for me.” You snapped, ripping your hand from his hold as you took a step back. Anger was already coursing hot through your veins. You had been told all of your life what was best for you and you would be damned if you let Hoseok start doing it too.

He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he exhaled. It looked like he was trying his hardest not to snap. “You don’t mean that, baby.” He was becoming unhinged. 

“I said what I meant, get the fuck out, now!” You snapped, your voice growing louder than it had before. You were in danger of waking your parents. And Hoseok knew that too, he knew exactly what you were trying to do. But you knew what he was doing as well, and as much as it hurt you to make him go you refused to become a prisoner to someone else, not when you could prevent it this time. 

His jaw was clenched as tightly as his fists were. He was undoubtedly pissed off. “I’ll give you some time to cool off, I’ll be back tomorrow night.” He said, the words just barely escaping his gritted teeth. 

“Don’t bother.” You shot at him as he turned his back to you and left your room, his bright red hair disappearing into the shadows of the hallway. Even in his anger, he still left the house without a noise.

And what you told him had been true, he shouldn’t bother coming back tomorrow night because you would already be long gone.

 ~~~~~~~

It had been three months since you had last seen him, and part of you began to think that maybe you had just imagined his existence. But you did know better than that, and you were sure what had happened had been real. You were still undeniably pissed at him, but you also missed him. He had been your first and only friend and the first person that had ever shown any interest in you. But the thing was, they were all the same. No matter who you met they all talked to you because of one thing, your diagnosis. And at the end of the day that’s what you felt like you were, a diagnosis. 

Moving in with your sister had made things better than they were before. She was more understanding than your parents were and far more lenient. Even though she was older than you, she let you make more decisions than you had ever been allowed to. And the regulations your parents had laid out for you were mostly ignored by her. She gave you the freedom to do whatever you wanted, you were in your twenties and she wanted you to experience life the way she had. The only thing she asked was that you let her know where you were going and when you thought you would be back. That was all. You hadn’t gotten a job yet, the past three months had been a period of readjustment and settling in for you. In fact, that was where you were headed now: a job interview. 

You and your sister had spent the past few days practicing for your interview, and lucky for you all you could feel was excitement. No anxiety and no fear, just happiness. Your new phone felt right in your hand, it was your baby now being the first one you had ever received. You slipped your earbuds into your ears and continued on with your walk down the street. Even now, it felt weird to be out during the day by yourself with a bunch of strangers walking by. Your social skills weren’t exactly up to par, but you still tried your best when you had to deal with those sorts of interactions.

A slight tug on your jacket had you coming to a stop. You turned to your right and were met with the sight of a man standing before you. You slid your earbud from your ear and slung it over your shoulder, raising your eyebrow in question. “Can I help you?” You asked. 

“Sorry about that, I called for you a couple times but you couldn’t hear me!” The man said, a sweet smile gracing his plush lips. He had a cute smile you noticed, his eyes sliding closed and his blonde locks falling in front of his forehead. 

“It’s alright.” You replied, a little stiffly and awkwardly. 

“Oh! You must be a little confused, huh? You applied for a position at my shop, I’m the owner! I figured I’d meet you and escort you there. I thought it’d be nice to get to know one another before the interview. Your sister told me this is your first interview and I wanted to make you as comfortable as possible.” He said. You couldn’t help but be amazed by how incredibly sweet he was, and young too. You found it a little strange that someone so young already owned their own shop. 

He stopped for a moment, shifting his glasses up the bridge of his nose a little higher and pulling the hair away from his forehead. It looked like an action he did a lot as he continued talking through it. “There’s a shortcut this way, do you mind?” He asked, offering his arm up to you. 

You gave him a small smile before linking your arm with his own as he turned to face another direction. You noticed it was an alley, a very familiar one as a matter of fact. You stopped for a moment, remember your mother’s words of never entering a dark alley. The last time you did you witnessed something you weren’t supposed to. But the difference here was you weren’t alone, so it should be fine, right?

You didn’t argue with your companion, you just allowed him to lead you through the slim alleyway. And that was probably the worst mistake you ever made. As soon as the two of you were far enough in you felt a harsh shove in between your shoulder blades and you were sent flailing to the ground. You could feel your knees scrape against the gravel as you groaned in pain, what the fuck had just happened? Before you could come to your senses and stand back up, you felt a weight settle on your back and the prick of a needle against the flesh of your neck. You had really fucked up good this time.

You groaned into the ground beneath you, rolling around in a daze as you felt your vision go blurry. The world was already becoming a mess of colors and confusion. You felt higher than a kite. In your disoriented state you could feel two arms slide beneath your body and gently lift you up, cradling you to a person’s chest. Your face lolled against their shirt, the scent was so familiar and welcoming. 

And before you passed out, succumbing to the blurry colors and spots of black invading your vision, you could remember hearing one thing, “Thanks Jimin.”

 ~~~~~~~

When you woke up, everything felt much worse. Upon opening your eyes you were immediately stuck with another needle, flushing God knows what into your veins. Whoever had taken you wanted you as weak as a kitten, ensuring that you wouldn’t fight back. Whoever had handled you had done a poor job as well, through your kaleidoscope vision you could make out the beginnings of bruises on your legs and arms. You felt like complete and utter shit. 

Each time you were moved felt like you were in and out of sleep, just barely able to remember what was going on. You could remember faintly the feeling of your clothes being pulled off before having them replaced with something else. Whatever it was it didn’t cover you well and in fact you felt incredibly cold. You couldn’t see, that was apparent. It felt like something had been pulled over your head and was making it hard to breathe.

And the irony of it all was that you still weren't afraid, distressed, confused, and tired but not afraid. 

You could feel your hands had been bound together and someone was gripping your forearms, dragging your barely lucid body through various hallways taking confusing twists and turns. Most likely done so you wouldn’t be able to escape. 

When you and whoever was with you finally stopped, it didn’t get much better. You heard a set of doors swing open before you were forced in and whatever was covering your face had been ripped off. The lights in the room were practically blinding, forcing you to wince and bow your head. As soon as you dropped your head you felt someone twist their fingers in your hair and yank your head up, you could feel the burn in your scalp from the harsh movement and a small cry forced its way free from your mouth. You could see now, but your vision was still far from perfect and most definitely impaired from whatever drug had been forced on you. 

You could tell there was shit ton of people, all men from what you could see. You couldn’t make out faces, the lights shining in your eyes made it too hard. And you could hear them all talking, yelling something you couldn’t understand. You spun around shakily, realizing that you were fully surrounded by these masses of people. And finally, you had begun to realize what it was they were all saying. It was numbers, large numbers. 

This was a bidding. 

They were all bidding on you like you were cattle. You were in disbelief, how had it come to this? Why did you trust that man, someone you didn’t even know? Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes before they began their slow descent down the curves of your cheeks, once again your freedom was going to be ripped from you in the most brutal way possible. You should have listened to Hoseok, he was right. You couldn’t take care of yourself. 

A buzzer sounded throughout the room sending a wave of sighs and frustration from those who couldn’t bid high enough. It had happened so quickly, and before you knew it you were being sold.

You dropped your head once more in disbelief, your bound hands curling into your chest in devastation and resignation. Everyone had been right about you, you attracted trouble and you would never be able to be free. You were meant to be caged for the rest of your life because of this. And now, you were sure your next few days would be short and end abruptly. You had no faith that you would come out of this alive. 

While lost in thought you hadn’t realized how quiet it had become, the loud voices having vanished from the room. 

You jerked at the feeling of a hand brushing your bare shoulder and you hastily stepped backwards, almost falling off of the platform in your attempt at protecting yourself. You raised your head and caught sight of the man in front of you, he had smooth tan skin and a somewhat gentle smile that dented his cheeks into the most innocent dimples. He looked kind, but what did you know. All of your judgments so far had been false. 

He didn’t approach you again, but instead just spoke. “Come with me.” He said, his voice seemingly kind was masking what you knew to be a command. 

He turned and walked down a few steps and offered you a hand which you accepted. He cradled your tied hands in his much larger ones and helped you find your balance to walk down the steps. He guided you to a door towards the back of the room where two men stood outside of it, presumably guarding it. 

Without a word he swung the door open and jerked his head in the direction of the room, signaling for you to walk in. And you did. The door slid shut behind you and the man didn’t follow you in. The room appeared to be a private lounge of sorts, fully stocked with various expensive brands of alcohol and plush couches to sit on and, not to mention, a bar.

A flash of red caught your eyes again, this was far too familiar. A man who was seated at the bar swung his stool around and came to stand, his dark eyes meeting yours with a look of glee. Hoseok. He quickly stood and crossed the room, sliding his jacket off of his shoulders and slinging it around your scantily clad body. 

To your surprise, you felt relieved. 

Without saying a word he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, burying his face in your hair and heavily breathing in your scent. He had missed you everyday for those three months. But waiting and planning for today had been the best decision he had made, because now he had you. He had tasted the forbidden fruit and finally dragged his sweet angel into the underworld with him. You could no longer escape him even if you tried, he owned you.

You gripped the fabric of his shirt and pressed your face into his chest, a part of you thinking he would disappear and leave you there. You could feel the light drag of his fingers down the curve of your spine as he pressed kisses to the crown of your head. 

“Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, attempted assault, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader finds herself at an impasse.

Note: Things are heating up and we're starting to go full force over here <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Days passed in idle anticipation. You kept Elina locked up with you and she grew more restless by the hour. When Lord Zemo came at night, she was happier but your sense of dread and impatience only grew. When the retinue arrived, you only wanted them to leave, but knowing who was roaming just floors below, you were anxious to strike first.

The baron was ever the voice of sense. Zemo was no beacon of morality, you knew that, but his honesty made him respectable. You considered how blatant he was in his intentions as compared to those other noblemen who painted their bad deeds as gifts. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely trustworthy but he didn’t trying to make you think otherwise.

You did your best to keep your daughter occupied with her many toys and quiet songs hummed out of tune. You bounced her on your hip as best you could with your cane in your other hand and crawled around with her like a dog. She was only calm when she slept as she longed for the sunlight that taunted her through the window.

You began to wonder how long the men would stay; how long you would be expected to stay hidden. Zemo mentioned vengeance and you dreamt of it every night. It was the only thing that kept you from quaking in fear and panic.

Tess brought your dinner and you placed it on the low table and sat on the floor with Elina and ate. You gave her tiny morsels to chew on or toss back at you. She was an energetic kid, stubborn and strong, and seemed to find fun in even the most dull tasks. You hoped she would grow up to be happier than you. Surely, she’d be more bold and more blessed.

As you chewed on some chicken, you heard that familiar knock on the door. Tess always gave a tiny tap and called through the wood but Zemo always gave that rhythmic beating. It was the latter, he was early that day. It made you worry as you left Elina to squeeze a piece of sweet potato and stood with your can dug into the wood.

You crossed to the door and turned the latch slowly. You opened the door and leaned heavily on the wooden stick, “well, you are earl--” your voice hung in the air as you stared at the familiar face, though it wasn’t Zemo.

You pushed the door but the man caught it and kept it two inches from the frame as he came closer. Peter’s hand trembled as he clung to the wood and gaped at you. He shook his head and blinked dumbly. The two years had given his face character and his shoulders a little more width.

“You’re alive?” he breathed.

“You can’t-- you have to go,” you pushed the door with a grunt, “please, go.”

“I thought… I thought you were dead,” he croaked, “I thought I--”

“Go away. Please!” you begged, “I can’t talk to you.”

“Or you won’t talk to me?” he challenged as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame, “how--”

“How did you find me?” you gasped.

He lowered his eyes and guiltily and clamped his lips shut. He sniffed and looked at you again, “I thought Zemo was hiding something from us. I followed him last night and listened… I couldn’t hear anything, I only saw him come here and knock.”

“No one else can know,” you said, “you can’t-- please go and don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t but-- I want to talk to you,” he insisted.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” you argued, “you must go. If Zemo discovers you--”

“I don’t care if he does. Don’t you understand, I--I-- I thought I killed you.”

You were silent as you stared into his face. You saw the pain in his eyes, the shock laced with relief. But it was all tinted with the guilt he’d carried since that day. The false guilt you’d given him.

“I’m sorry, Peter, it was the only way out--”

“My aunt cried everyday for you and she never let me forget what you said to me. I never could forget,” he hissed.

“I know, but you have to--” Elina made a noise as she came over and clung to your leg, smearing food down your skirt. Peter looked at her and his lips parted in surprise, “no one can know about her.”

He nodded and gulped. He looked up and down the corridor. “I wouldn’t tell but I can’t go until we talk, I…” his voice cracked, “I need to tell you I was wrong. I lied.”

“El,” you bent to wipe her face and lifted her, “please, stay here,” you bid Peter as you turned and hobbled across the room.

You placed her in her cot, thought she only began to fuss, but you shoved a stuffed caribou into her hands and left her to poke its eyes. You went back to the door and found Peter staring at your cane.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that’s my fault,” he nodded to the cane, “and that,” he looked to the scar down your face, “I saw it. I tried to follow you that day but I wasn’t fast enough and you were--”

“No, it wasn’t you. I said it was because I could. I couldn’t tell the man who made me do this so I told you instead. That was unfair and unkind,” you blinked away tears, “and I hurt more than just myself.”

He mulled your words and picked at his sleeve. He dressed finer than the last you’d met, “I didn’t mean what I said to Barnes. You were sweet to me and my aunt told me what you were, he told me you were worse, but I didn’t truly care. I only knew he was hurting you and I was making that worse so I thought if I stayed away, he’d stop.”

“No one can stop him. No one. Those men, they cannot be stopped. They are evil in the flesh, they are borne to greed and cruelty. They only see what they can get, not what they can give because they won’t ever be denied--”

You heard a clamor, the pounding of footsteps from the stairway, and the frantic breathing of whoever was approaching. You opened the door further and pulled Peter inside. You shut the door and leaned against it with him as you listened and watched through the crack.

“Away, away,” you heard Melinda’s airy pleas as she swept past your door, “please, sir, away!”

“I just want to play a little game,” the deep voice made your blood curdle then the realisation of what he was doing made it boil even hotter. You gripped your cane as Peter frowned at you, “come here, pet, I don’t bite.”

Melinda squeaked as Lord Rogers’ footsteps slowed and you heard the struggle that followed. The muffled collision of her body against the wall, the small girl’s broken breath as it was knocked from her, and his lewd growl as he pounced.

You pushed Peter away from you and tore open the door. They were closer than you thought. Just against the wall opposite your room. Lord Rogers’ body shielded the girl’s body almost entirely. You raised your cane without a second thought and brought it down on his shoulders.

As he exclaimed and staggered, you hit him again, the time in the back of the head. You swooped your cane down and banged his knees so that he fell onto the stone. You hit him again in the side as he wheezed and you stood over him.

“Bastard! Bastard!” you hit him as the young maid and the other lord watched in shock, “how dare you? You beast!”

Peter grabbed your arm and stopped you as Rogers rolled onto his back and coughed. He groaned as he reached to his head and you were pulled away from him. You struggled with Peter as you wanted badly to hit him again.

“Melinda,” you said as you struggled, “go fetch the baron. Now!”

She skittered off like a mouse, careful to tiptoe around Rogers as he sat up and gripped his right shoulder where you’d hit him. He chuckled as he looked up at you. He grinned beneath the trickle of blood on his lips.

“Oh, well, what a treat this is,” he mocked, “the whore lives.”

“You’re vile,” you snarled, “I should bash you like the snake you are.”

“Parker,” he spoke to the man at your side, “hold her for me.” He grunted as he pushed himself up and stumbled a little on his feet, “let us remind her of who she is… oh, Barnes might come out of his rooms for this.”

He reached to his belt but Peter let you go. You looked over at him and he crossed his arms and shrugged. You gripped your cane tight and swung it again. The strike caught Lord Rogers across his chin and the next in the tender flesh of his side. You jabbed his chest so he was again on his back but he could barely get his arms up to keep away the storm of blows.

When he was limp and prone before you, you slowly lowered the cane. You quivered as you stared down at what you’d done. His breaths came in rattles. You leaned on your right leg as your left shook and you lifted the carefully carved stick.

You pulled the silver topper until it dislodged and revealed the long silver blade. Peter caught your wrist as you raised the dagger.

“Don’t, it’ll change you. It’ll make you as bad as him,” he whispered.

You looked at him and your hand shook. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks and you heard Elina murmuring, louder and louder as she wondered where you were. You sheathed the knife and plunked your cane down on the stone.

Footsteps drew you back to the end of the corridor as Zemo appeared from the stairwell. His face dropped as he saw you standing over Rogers. He took a breath but did not look angry.

“Well, I did hope to delay this a little longer,” he said as he approached, “but that Rogers was ever the petulant pest.”

“I’m sorry, he--”

“Oh, I can guess at it,” he nodded to Melinda as she followed meekly behind him, “I’d have done it myself if I had the displeasure of witnessing his lechery.” He came up to Peter and stopped, “but I will do what I must.”

“He won’t hurt us,” you said, “Peter… isn’t like them.”

“But he is loyal to his kingdom,” he pointed at Peter’s chest harshly.

“I am a viscount. Not a duke or earl even. I serve men like that on the floor because I have to, not because I want to,” Peter countered, “I have no lealty to the men who leave women like this.” He looked at you and bowed his head, “but I will admit I am not innocent of it.”

Zemo looked at you and stilled your hand as it was still shaking. "Do you vouch for him, lady?"

"He is a good man. If anything, I have drawn him unjustly into this mess," you said, "I knew you wanted to wait longer--"

"No use in apologies," Zemo grasped your shoulder and squeezed, "this stalemate would not have lasted forever. I am not entirely unprepared."

Elina began to bawl and Zemo brushed past you. He returned with her in his arms, rocking her until she quieted. He cradled her cheek with a mournful gaze and his lips curved for just a moment.

"Be quick, we must leave before the moon. We will move the lord out of the corridor and be away before they can discover him," he said, "by the morning, the castle should be empty but for our foreign visitors and it will take them some time to return to their home with news of such catastrophe."

"Is he dead?" you asked as you looked at Rogers' boots.

"An ox like him? Not yet, just annoyingly on the precipice," Zemo replied, "if we're fortunate, he'll have some lingering detriment but we cannot kill him. That would be an unforgivable mistake."

You heard a grumble and a croaky chuckle. Zemo turned and you looked down on the dazed duke.

"That is a beautiful girl," Lord Rogers rasped, "looks like her father."

Zemo's pupils turned to pinpoints and he handed you Elina. He bent and knocked Rogers across the cheek so that his head bounced off the stone. The baron shook out his hand as he stood straight and his nostrils flared.

"Lord Parker, was it?" He looked to Peter, "help me move him. We haven't time to spare."

[ravysu]

Sannin headcanons and thoughts

The last thing I would like to post for the sannin week. It is still 24.04 here! :D @sannin-central

This is long. Spoiler alert. Mostly Orochimaru, some Tsunade, a little of Jiraiya (because his story is pretty clear and spoken and idk what I can add). Also I recommend to read this meta about Orochimaru, it has influenced me a lot and has some good points. Sorry for any posible grammar mistakes. Also I really should put here a lot of references to the manga or anime but it was something that was piling up for a year and I'm soooooooo lazy. After all, those are just headcanons. Also: Im not excusing Oro's bad stuff here, Im trying to understand the reasons.

Ive already posted some hcs, here, here and here.

1. First if all, the chronology pic of sannin lifetime based on the info i found on naruto wiki and also some statements about wars from this post. It was tough considering what a mess naruto’s chronology is.

2. Sannin story shows what it cost to be a legend. They're like Team 7 but more realistic. Tsunade literally carried the war but left with nothing and developed a ptsd and have problems to just live on. Also anger control issues. I think she can be pretty bossy and stubborn which is not always nice. Jiraiya is the hero of the day but also very idealistic and can ignore some important details in the real word whether its the fight (he always injured during flashbacks maybe because each time he took too much to handle and on the one hand it's heroistic but on the other is a mistake that can lead your team to situations like in that Iwa cave) or your friends issues (I bet he saw what's going on but thought it's fine until Oro actually got red handed and left). He lives in his world and may have problems to get out to see it through someone else's shoes. As for Orochimaru, it seems like he was a normal guy for 20+ years (I mean, he didn't do crazy criminal shit and had something good in him and it was stated somewhere that it was his teammates influence. It is obvious they considered him as a friend, I don't thinks it was for nothing) but we mostly know his darkest side. Despite being a moster he is a human that have empathy and some ordinary human traits (man just decorates every bit of an environment he is in lol).

3. Tsunade was the leader of team Hiruzen.

4. Tsunade sometimes hit Jiraiya for some stupid things he did or said but never touches Orochimaru even if he did something same. Jiraiya complained about it once and almost got another hit.

5. Jiraiya had problematic parents that didn't care about him much and a lot of time he was wandering in the streets.

6. Judging by the look of Oro bangs and hair, he sometimes cut it off. A stress relief huh? And the fact that he doesn't do it now in Boruto..

7. It was shown that Tsunade and Orochimaru was acknowledged before they become a team. Maybe they did just before, or maybe some longer time before. I prefer the second option and hc that they met because both had no real friends - Orochimaru seemed weird and scary for everyone and Tsunade was Senju so everyone wanted to hang out with her but didn't really care. They weren't seen as what they were - people put the labels on them. But they didn't care about each other's labels and actually saw each other in true lights.

8. Tsunade knew it was an accident and it's not right but still she blamed Orochimaru for Nawaki's death for some time. It was something that seriously damaged their friendship and the team. Orochimaru was mad but also guilty, after all, he was responsible at least as a shinobi since Nawaki was under his watch. So he started to act cold and emotionless and was trying to distance himself from his teammates.

9. Jiraiya was in Ame while Dan died.

10. The whole his orphans mission was a bit irresponsible tbh. They already fought Hanzo and as he stated the conflict between Konoha and Ame is going to an end with Konoha's win. It's weird to stay here for three years in the middle of the war while there were other lands to fight. He left his teammates for some idea. Maybe that caused another crack in their team friendship.

11. If Tsunade would have find a way to live on with her trauma and follow the will of fire and stuff it would affect Orochimaru as well just as her grief affected him. It's like he would get an example that you can live on with this pain. So death isn't above human capability and we are not just the slaves of mortality (sounds stupid but i dont know how else to describe sorry). But as we know what he actually saw is that it broke her crucially to the point she couldnt be herself again. And so the death is above everything.

12. Oro wasn’t just acting as a cold pragmatic bitch in that cave but also tried to save Tsunade. Jiraiya knew it and that’s why he showed this sign to him like "I see what youre doing here" and that stunned Oro because he would prefer to look rather like a cold pragmatic bitch hehe

13. Just a thought. People in the village probably treated Oro as a foreigner or just wouldnt accept him because he looked so differently and had a weird attitude. That's why he sometimes didn't feel that Konoha is his home. After the wars where people were treated as means and tools, even the children, he himself developed this view on people - he dehumanized them and used as the means to his goals, just as his village did. Funny thing some people were straightly dehumanizing him too like Ibiki thought that he was a demon (tho he was a child). And he probably weren't the only one. Anyways the point is that it's logical that Orochimaru don't care about anybody but some few people, he's the product of his era. He's like Naruto that would chose the hatred way. But naruto had some good and understanding people around him and.. Orochimaru had them too, but match how Iruka treated Naruto and this Hiruzen's "I sAw tHe mAliCe in This cHiLd fRoM tHe BegGinNinG". And oro didn't even have a big ass evil fox in him. sry i hate hiruzen

ANYWAYS the moral of the story is not "go criminal if they hurt you" but always treat people like people. Waving my hand to Kant.

14. The reason why Orochimaru didn't pick some good morals to stick with through the hard times no matter what (like, idk, Jiraiya or Naruto) is because 1) I think he is/was pretty depending on people around him 2) the war fucked him and his friends up too much (Nawaki incident + Tsunade) 3) twisted addictions (though I don't think he's that sadistic, we never saw him torturing randoms just for fun, it was always some science experimental shit. He tends to get fun out of cruelty only when it's personal) that maybe developed as a way to sublimate anger and sadness caused by his parents loss (that's what they share with sasuke - unlicke naruto, they knew their parents and it's other kind of pain. Sasuke developed a revenge issue and Orochimaru - cruelty pleasure which... is kinda the same but less epic and more occasional lol).

15. Speaking of that, Orochimaru cared for Sasuke because he saw himself in him.

16. Oro hold grudges against Hiruzen for not choosing him to be Hokage not only because he was ambitious and/or egoistic, but also because Hiruzen was some kind of a father figure for him and his approval was important tho i doubt he was aware of that. He also probably could tell that Hiruzen was suspicios about him when he was a child and that led to many conflicts and was hurting as well.

17. Tsunade knew things weren't pretty with Orochimaru after the wars but she never expected them to be this bad. During the week that she was given in her arc she thought not only about how much she wants to see Nawaki and Dan again despite how wrong would it be but also was trying to bury all the good memories she had left of Orochimaru so it would be easier to kill him.

18. She poisoned Jiraiya exactly because she knew he would not let her do it. Jiraiya was always hesitant to kill and inclined to forgiveness, while Tsunade, as mentioned by Orochimaru, could be merciless (so much so that he was not surprised when Kabuto suggested that she wanted to use Jira for Edo Tensei).

19. That was one of her traits that scared Jiraiya and fascinated Orochimaru.

20. Remember how Oro grabbed Jiraiya's neck when the latter was trying to cover with hair jutsu? On the snake, in Tsnade's arc. Orochimaru could have easily kill Jiraiya by pulling the sword out of the mouth (arteries are right there) but he didn't. As well as he could kill Tsunade when she was still shaking - just aim for the neck or the heart. Instead, he just injured her lung and kicked her which is not a big deal for the kind of shinoby like her at all.. Also he helped Anko not accidentally kill herself but it would be way much profitable to let her do it. "Orochimaru has no feelings".

21. The reason he suddenly wanted to kill Tsunade instead of forcing her to heal his arms as it was planned (which is weird since it will not going to get him heals and he kinda said that he wouldn't want to kill her just minutes ago) is that not only she refused to help him (he thought he could work it out) but she also prefered the village over him (from his point of view). Out if everyone she was the closest to being able to understand him since the village caused her painful losses too but nevertheless she agreed to be on it's side.

22. He wasn't fighting her back in the end partly because he thought he deserved that. Somewhere deep inside hahah.

23. Tsunade got a fear to develop deep bonds so they probably weren't very close with Shizune (also the way she knocked her down in this hotel.. oh).

24. Orochimaru will be here when she'll die.

25. Orochimaru's eng dub to Tsunade: "I often wondered what it would be like to ring that pretty neck yours". No comments.

26. Orochimaru is either bi/pan or ace. Anything or nothing lmao

27. Hiruzen knew about at least some of the Oro’s illegal experiments and was okay just as he was okay with the Foundation all the time. Because it’s useful. Then he has discovered he went too far OR he knew everything and oro just became too inconvenient because of his methods. The way Orochimaru tells Sasuke about reasons they are well treated as the criminals is based on in his experience with Hiruzen.

28. As you may know the lyrics in Orochimaru’s music theme goes “don’t talk with the silence of the heart”. It was taken from one Indian song that also had lines like “don’t question life too much”, ”pain arose somewhere in the chest”, “don’t speak to the wounds of the heart”. Though I’m not sure 100% because I was translating it with some hindi dictionary with like zero knowledge of hindi

29. I like to think that this “silence of the heart” theme and the fact that he called his village a hidden sound village are somehow connected. The hidden sound is the possible explanation of all things waiting to be listened to but the truth is silent and you know it deep in your heart and it bothers you. The world is silent just like the life is meaningless but people can only hear. *Sigh* anyways

30. Orochimaru’s journey is the one about accepting death. When he saw Karin released her chains while was trying to get to Sasuke he understood that the death is a part of human’s strength.

Can’t wait to feel that everything I wrote is wrong or not enough or stupid and obvious lol. Anyways, it’s something that I wanted to share until I move to some other fandom.

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

[ghostoftonantzin]

Appetite for Destruction

I just discussed in a post how red in tooth and claw utilized some themes and lines from an abandoned season 2-era WIP I had, titled Appetite for Destruction. I’ve realized that I’m probably never going to finish it, so I’m going to share what I have and some notes for the rest of it.

The basic premise is as such: it’s a canon divergence fic where in season 2, Nandor realizes that Guillermo is a vampire killer much earlier on, and instead of telling him to hide it, decides to take him under his wing and teach him how to be a killer. The acceleration of Guillermo’s moral degradation ensues. 

Guillermo had been a steady, unchanging presence for as long as he had been around. After being properly trained, rather. He was there when Nandor woke up and was the one to put him to bed, and he was always within calling distance whenever Nandor needed him, getting there as fast as his feet could carry him.

To Nandor, the pulse of Guillermo’s heartbeat was as steady as the tide, predictable enough to practically predict the future. It lulled him through an endless expanse of days, time trickling on and on on the pages of the calendar and in the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Unchanging and always there, that was Guillermo.

“It’s the most astounding thing, old chap,” Laszlo said, gesturing with his pipe, “the tides on the west coast are entirely different. You see, I was watching the water come in down in California, and I can tell you, it doesn’t come in the same way it does on the beaches here. Sure, it might come in big once a day, but the second time it barely comes in. Mixed semidiurnal tides, I’m told it’s called.”

“And down in New Orleans, it only comes in once a day, as my dear lady wife and I discovered.” Laszlo continued, gesturing a little more emphatically at Nandor.

“You’d know this if you’d gone with us.” he finished, sticking his unlit pipe back in his mouth and leaning back into his chair contentedly.

And so it was. And so Guillermo had changed. It was something in the beat of his heart, the harsh set of his mouth, the new dullness in his eyes that Nandor couldn’t quite explain. He was sneaking around, keeping out of Nandor’s line of sight where he once had hovered at the edge of his vision, anticipatory.

Nandor set his mind to find out.

-

It didn’t take long for Nandor to figure it out, once he started keeping a closer watch. A stake, fashioned out of a table leg Nandor recognizes from the junk room, a brief scuffle. Guillermo moves with a precision Nandor doesn’t recognize, coming out of the wallpaper like a snake disguised in the rocks, striking with killing intent.

-

Nandor was pretty sure the girl was a virgin. He hadn’t pierced her neck yet, but this close, with one hand over her mouth in the dirty alleyway, he could almost smell it. He could feel her fear in the beat of her heart against his chest, but she was frozen with it, entirely rigid in his arms.

She was even wearing a button-up for him, white with what looks like little parrots in different colors. The only problem was the cross necklace. The chain was silver, and sturdy too. It wouldn’t kill Nandor, but it would really ruin his enjoyment of this nice virgin.

“Ah, Guillermo, if you could-” and he shuffled in from the glow cast by the streetlight, picking up her bag from where it lay on the sidewalk while he was at it. Nandor gestured toward her neck with the hand pressing her into him. Guillermo nodded and started fiddling with the back of the necklace. The girl’s eyes widened, but Nandor’s hand over her mouth also served to keep her from turning her head.

“Sometime tonight, Guillermo,” Nandor said, because really, it was a necklace, it shouldn’t take that long. Guillermo muttered something about the clasp and finally unhooked it. Nandor watched his fingers as he slid the chain over the back of one hand and into the pocket of her shirt.

Nandor hadn’t been wrong. She was delicious, gasping and gurgling a bit from where Nandor had bit a bit too close to the windpipe.

He opened his eyes and dropped the body. Guillermo’s eyes didn’t follow it as it fell.

Nandor had watched Guillermo watching him drink. Nandor should have cut that off at the root, years ago, but his gaze reminded Nandor of the rapt attention of dignitaries and diplomats brought before his throne to watch him feed, back in Al Quolanudar. He could practically taste their fear and incomprehension of what they were witnessing when Guillermo’s heart began to beat faster, like catching stray notes of a song on an instrument that had long been forgotten.

“It would be a shame to waste a good garbage can. I think this one should be a dumpster body.” He picked up the limp thing from the ground and tossed it over the rim of the dumpster. Guillermo threw the bag in after it.

--

Guillermo was taking a very long time to put him to bed. Moving like he was wading through water, that was his familiar. He seemed distracted, picking up the candle extinguisher even before he came to say goodnight to Nandor in his coffin.

All this, after he had left Nandor to the cruel mercies of Bloody Mary’s curse all night. Nandor could hardly believe his familiar sometimes.

“Are you going to come say goodnight to me, Guillermo, or are you going to put every candle out in the house first? Where were you all evening, going out for so long like that?”

Guillermo took a deep breath and came over to his coffin, and he told him everything in a deep exhalation, like he was confessing to some great crime. Nandor supposed he was, though Guillermo had hardly been without his reasons. He had done the right thing, though, going back for his brothers in arms. A shame about the Hustle Dynasty, he supposed.

He hooked the tips of his fingers into Guillermo’s as if he was trying to weave them together like latticework over a window. There was blood on his knuckles, but it was not nearly as copious as the vampire blood soaking into his clothes. Guillermo’s fingers curled back in on his.

Nandor looked up at Guillermo. Guillermo looked back down at him with a look of what could only be gratitude. Guillermo, who had been waiting his whole life for someone to recognize him for the warrior he could be, waiting for someone to look inside him and see the potential there. He had taken hold of carnage so well.

“I will talk over all this with you tomorrow night, after you get some sleep. I would like to know how you got out of the house, because you obviously need to work on your strategy. You do not go running into strange houses without a battle plan!”

--

Nandor had been rifling through one the storage rooms with Guillermo, because Nandor had once mentioned owning a silver dagger to Guillermo, and now he was asking if he could use it. Nandor was surprised he hadn’t thought of it; it wasn’t as if he could wield it himself, and it would make more sense to entrust it to Guillermo.

“What is this about?” Nandor asked. Everyone else in the house was already seated.

“Well, I was thinking it would be nice if we had a house meeting, because it has been too long since we had one.”

--

This was followed by a scene similar to red in tooth and claw, only Nandor was the only one to drink and he ended by hugging Guillermo, and a scene where Nandor is lying in his coffin, listening to Guillermo’s voice as he gives a talking head interview to the camera crew in his room.

Then there was going to be a scene where Nandor drinks from Guillermo as Guillermo sits in his lap, ending with this:

-looks at Guillermo’s open face, trusting and anticipatory

-he turns Guillermo’s head toward him and passes the blood into his waiting mouth

-feels a shudder pass through Guillermo too quickly to be anything but a reflex

-“Good, right?”

-“your blood is delicious, is it not?”

-Guillermo runs his tongue over his top teeth (Nandor can see him run his tongue over his front teeth underneath his lips) and his tongue darts out to lick his lips

-“Yes, master”

The final scene was dialogue-only, of what Guillermo said to the camera during the talking head interview.