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bluem0use · 4 years

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It's about time I introduced you to the cast of The Crackin'-Up Studios. Don't worry. You'll be seeing them again, especially in the mini-comics!

**In order from top to bottom, left to right**

Billie Bob Willie-Nillie Black Sheep: The overall face of The Crackin'-Up Studios itself. She is the ring leader to the whole circus. The pilot to all the flight attendance. The manager to a corporate office. You get the whole idea. She's one poppin' fire-cracker (A.K.A. has a short temper) that's all for the business, but doesn't mind getting silly from time to time. On screen, she is the definition of unpredictable and crazy, fun and silly. She's a gun happy country gal that started off small and came out big with her talents for making people laugh. She worked hard to get her way to the top. And all of it has obviously paid off. If someone was to use words to describe her, it would be fun, loving, friendly, brave, courageous, generous, the list could go on and on. This gun-loving little lady, no matter where she goes, always somehow seems to change people's lives. And for the better.

Poochie Pooh Poodle: Billie's partner-in-crime. Her bestest friend since her younger years. Her ride or die buddy. Poochie is the main co-star to the series, and a serious eye-candy to men. While Billie is featured as the funny, wacky, unpredictable, quirky character on-screen of the trio, Poochie is often featured as the sex-appeal. The sex symbol. The hot mama. She also models as a little side job whenever necessary. She's the sweetest sweetie-pie you will ever meet in your life. However, proceed with caution. When provoked, she's one sassy gal and won't hesitate to give you a mouthful (and probably a gun wound) if you mess with her, or her friends.

Wolfie Blackfang Wolf: What's the three musketeers without a male in the picture? Wolfie may not have known these two women as long as they've known each other, but their his closest family he's ever had since he left the orphanage. He is also the main co-star to the series, accompanied by being the musical genius of the three. Since a young boy, Wolfie has practiced music as not only his hobby, but his life. His alluring ability was able to trap the young black sheep and poodle in a trance on a fateful night in a club where he worked to try and make a living, thus landing him a job and a ticket to materialization through the ladies. From there, he has always acted as the stud of the three, protecting them whenever they needed an extra hand and also charming women with his attractive voice along the way.

Candy Bat: This "monster", this "usually nocturnal creature of the night", this "mysterious shadow" is nothing but a sweet treat in the eyes of many who travel far and wide to Nightwalk Bay to get a taste of his sweet treats at the local candy shop. At least, that's what Billie, Poochie, and Wolfie will tell ya. Famous for his line of business, Candy Bat is a harmless, humble candy man..err..bat that seeks nothing but to fill the mouths of the fortunate with a sweet after-taste. His delicious pastries, frozen desserts, and fizzy drinks aren't the only thing that appeals to the eyes of many. He's also a support character at The Crackin'-Up Studios during the day and a friendly (but hissy, due to his uncontrollable excited hisses whenever he meets someone new and/or is excited) candy shop-keeper at night.

Scratches: Whoa, watch out for that web! There's a BIG spider up there! And his name is none other than Scratches, yet another support cast character for The Crackin'-Up Studios. When in the presence of my six-armed friend, be cautious. Scratches loves the ladies and will go through extreme lengths to entangle you in his web, if he deems you a worthy enough mate. Don't worry fellas, he doesn't swing that way. Though..spider's gotta eat, right? What? Spiders only eat insects? Not this playful, flirtatious one. Note that this spider is dead, and has been ressurrected after a deal made by Ozzan (scroll down to reference Ozzan's bio). Therefore, Scratches likes human flesh too. Dont worry too much though. He's too busy chasing both Poochie and Billie around the studios, trying to declare his love for them. Though...something about a huge demon spider just..turns those two ladies off.

Honey Hyena: As the name implies, this hyena is sweet as honey! Raised on a bee farm, this little lady never expected to end up being a supporting cast character to The Crackin'-Up Studios. That was, until a little Black Sheep mozied on over and decided to offer her the position and the materialization process just like everyone else. She figured the nice lady would need the money boost besides "Milkin' bees all day long" - Billie. Honey loves bees. In fact, on her days off from woking at the studios, that's all she does! Is work, work, work at her long-descended family bee farm, making honey and selling it for some dough (money) as a side job. She is also the motherly figure to all the cartoon ladies on set and often tries to share her knowledge with them in hopes she can help guide them on the right path. I mean, not everyone is perfect, right?

Bon Isabell Bunny: Daughter of a long deceased magician (who was, ironically a white bunny), she has seeked to find more support by becoming a supporting cast character to the TV series. However, though, she wasn't looking to be a supporting character when offered the job by Billie Bob. Bon has a bit of a...strong hatred for Billie Bob. Bon saw how much love and respect the black sheep got, even from her "enemies". So, what does this tempered (its just as bad as Billie's, trust me), quick-to-anger, grumpy gal do? Well, it's like they say, "Kill the sheep, take her wool!". That is...if she could catch her first. Forever caught in this game of cat-and-mouse on screen and off screen, Bon decided to settle into this position for now. Hopefully one day, her magic tricks and traps can pay off and actually earn her a spot in the lead position.

Bon Iseah Bunny: Twin brother to the other Bon Bunny, this bunny seems the complete opposite of his sister. This magic bunny doesn't mind being a supporting cast character, and instead enjoys making others smile with her magic tricks and qurkiness. After all, its what his deceased magician father would have wanted. He admires Billie and everything that she does not only for everyone else, but herself. He just hopes with time, his sister can see that. For now, this calm bunny will just have to play as yin to his sister's yang (A.K.A., trying his best to calm her in her most stressed and ferocious moments).

Molly Cow: Before her rise to fame as another member of The Crackin'-Up Studios crew, Molly Cow, the half-pig half-cow offspring, could not keep a job to save her life! She was lazy, less focused, often slacking or ducking off, and/or giving up before she even set foot in the door! The funny thing is, she wouldn't care, and just go back to living with her parents. Seeing as though Molly's confident and care-free attitude was a necessity to bring on some laughs, all Billie had to do was offer a hand to the voluptuous, intriguing young woman and for some odd reason, this cartoon has managed to keep the job ever since. Side note, if you ask her what her "other" job would be whenever she brings it up, it would be shopping. She is ALL about the fashion!

Malachi (formerly known as "Michael Jamesking"): Yes, Malachi is actually an angel. AND, he is also a featuring asset to the team whenever needed. With the help of one of Veronica's potions (scroll down to reference Veronica's bio), he has the ability to shrink down to size on command. He also is a good line of defense if life-threatening danger ever be-falls the company, for even if he is a judgement angel, he is considered very powerful against a mortal (unless demon weapons are used against him). He is pure, friendly, and kind, however, you must not associate yourself with the presence of evil upon first meetings. He IS a jugement angel after all and will be quick to judge you and shame you for your choice of sin and avoid you like the plague while also be-littleing you. Ironically, the only exception to this treatment is Ozzan (his best friend in all universes) and Bendy (in the head-canon canon universe). Also note, Malachi was never always Malachi. Malachi was once Michael, a regular, normal, working business man who unfortunately got hit by a car on his morning rush to work.

Ozzan: Oh boy. This one's a bad one. If you thought Scratches (scroll up to reference Scratche's bio) was bad, wait until you get a load of this one! This foul-mouthed, ill-mannered, obnoxious, flirtatious pervert is somehow a necessity to The Crackin'-Up Studios. His crude sense of humor and anctics tend to get a good laugh out of adults more than oblivious children. He will flirt with anything, sleep with anything, hell even risk catching some sort of SEXUAL DISEASE for anything that has legs. This man lives, breathes, and embraces everything that is bad at every cost, every time. Its possibly why he was so close to Lucifer (the Devil) back when he was in Hell. Though, take caution. If you piss him off (which isn't really hard to do), he WILL tear you to bits and peices with his bare fists. Also, beware of tentacles and trendils ladies. He has them everywhere and can use them not only in battle, but also for...other things. So beware and..make sure your doors are locked.

Veronica Bat: Born "Daddy's Little Monster", Veronica is the daughter of Candy Bat and Valentine Naxxremis (formerly Bat)(She will be referenced in the next ref). For most of her life, she has lived with her mother and embraced her witch-hood, which usually ends up with the little gloom and doom bookworm getting bullied for being a "half-breed". However, her luck gets turned around when she meets Billie Bob (like a lot of these people's do) who helps instill in her to be happy to be herself and to screw what everyone else says..and to also get back at them at all costs. She looks up to Billie and Poochie as her "Aunties", though, has trouble getting along with her father. She was raised to believe she had left her and her mother and never really loved them. Which, is obviously not true, but, she has a hard time believing that. Once welcomed to the cast, Veronica is a huge hit with the goth little teen girls who aspire to be like her: beautiful and mysterious. Let's just hope she gets he powers under control first, for she struggles with that a great deal on screen for comical effect and off screen.

Patricia Greene Pig: (A/N: She probably has had the MOST change out of all of them, so beware) Patricia is Delloris's (scroll down for Delloris's bio) bestest friend since childhood. Snobby, rude, sassy, class. All of these combined makes her perfect for scenes where she's the girl that thinks she's too good for the male trying to win her heart. Likes are, their only trying to "woo" it for her money. Oh, did I mention she's very wealthy? Her and Delloris aren't friends for nothing. You have to have some sort of status when it comes to getting in goods with the mayor's one and only daughter. Also note that Patricia is an EXTREME germo-phobe and will pelt you down with germ-x if you've so much as TOUCHED an un-sanitized door knob.

Hank Kat: Hank Kat has been an aspired musician since he was a little boy. He has really known the struggles of what it's like to be broke from both of his poor parents. So, as a way to raise some money, he went out on the streets and played his father's old rusty trumphet for some pocket change. Crowds were so awed at his talent, before long, Hank was hitting the clubs to try and win over some cash to take care of his parents once he became of age. Similar to Wolfie, Poochie had just so happened to stumble upon him. Though they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye due to species war, they were able to put their differences aside the night they had spent together, dancing the night away. As they danced, Poochie would listen to this party-goer's story and become sympathetic for the poor fellow. Thus, she figured his wallet could be fed a little more and thus offered for him to be a support character on the team. With his toe-tappin', feed stompin', hand wavin; jams that he can play on trombone, trumphet, pretty much just about any instrument he could blow into, he would become not only a major asset to the supporting cast, but also the music, both at his day job at the studios and his night job in the clubs.

Puncho: This "unstoppable brick wall" can take a punch and also pack it. After all, they don't call him "Puncho" for nothing! Though he's not much of fan favorite unless it comes to his famous boxing episodes, Puncho is a well-served supporting cast in the crew. He's often seen alongside his partner, Scraps Skunk (scroll down for Scrap's bio), no matter what the situation. He has a temper just like Billie, girl Bon, and Ozzan, however, instead of unleashing it by yelling at coworkers and throwing large objects (Billie), chasing someone down the hall with a chainsaw (Girl Bon), or spewing a bunch of curse words that's enough to make a sailor blush (Ozzan), he lets out his steam in the ring. He is the undefeated champion (if you don't count his and Billie's first brawl in one of her posters) within the boxing ring and anyone who dare wants to challenge him in taking his belt, well. Better be prepared for the pain. Bring a lot of ice.

Scraps Skunk: A timid, shy soul who is pure and good at working the ring as a referee. He plays fair though, he always will support his bestest friend, Puncho no matter what. His often scared, frightened, shaky attitude is welcomed on screen whenever needed. He was often bullied through his childhood and unlike those who have toughed up from it, he only seemed to soften. Hell, even Billie has chewed him out for his overly push-over nature. Though, she gives up. For nothing can change this poor man's soft heart and kind ways.

Wallis Moose: What else to say about this guy besides him obviously being a horrible detective? After his first appearance as one in one of Billie's episodes, Wallis fell in love with the idea of being one and even off screen, tries to solve "mysteries" wherever he is needed. However, he always slips up short and makes himself to be a fool. How did he even earn a spot on the team? Well, to put it simple, Wallis is a stone cold, hard drunk. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and when he's hiccuping and stumbling all over the place, Billie couldn't help but find it amusing the first time they met. After all, the first night they met, they both danced drunkinly through the streets of Nightwalk Bay, where they somehow met. As kooky as it sounds, it actually happened. Believe me.

Chico Georgina Chick: This once poor broken flapper was able to leave her broken past of having to prostitute herself on the streets and go some nights starving behind. Coincidentally, Chico was given another opportunity at a better life by Hank Kat (scroll up for Hank's bio), who happened to run into her at one of the clubs and show her a much better life than what she was living by offering her a position at the studios and materialization through the machine. Now a re-born, classy lady, this former flapper...heh...well, let's be honest. Girl loves to party and dance like there's none tomorrow, is ready to bring all the club's joy and bump to the table on screen. Hank is often seen by her side, playing away on his trumphet while she dances on top of a table. Nothing too promiscuous or provocitive. Want to keep the adult's attention but not as much. She's known as the party girl out of the group and also knows a thing or two about fashion. Also, keep her as FAR away from Molly (scroll up for Molly's bio) as possible..they fight a lot.

Delloris Acorn: Delloris is the beloved daughter of the mayor of Toon City, within the alternate world where cartoons "live". Her mother died giving childbirth and though she never knew her mother. She was always expected to act lady-like and proper, is why she carries herself that way. Though, the day Billie met Delloris and her father and was allowed to spend the day with her, Billie turned her upside down and all around. To the point Delloris came home, dress cut into a tank-top, short short overalls, knee-high socks, messy hair, and busted shoes. Billie's excuse was they were pig wrestling (no pun intended Patricia). Her father was awfully upset and almost demanded Billie to be arrested, however, Billie's sly deal to offer Delloris a spot at the studios was the only thing that saved her from some jail time. Now, while away from her rich and perfect life as the mayor's "little princess", she's allowed to get down and dirty. Especially on screen where down and dirty are necessary for some laughs.

Mad Mouse (also known as "Maddison K Mouse"): Why is this mouse so quiet and mysterious? Why does he never speak or even take off his goggles? Wait, is this mouse even a "he" at all? Well, yes and no. To put a long story short, back in these days and times of the early 1900s, women weren't taken seriously. Even toon women. Born a genius, the only way to get people to notice her freakishly large brain talent is to disguise herself as a man and as to go as "Mad Mouse" instead of "Maddison Mouse". However, her little secret couldn't be kept that long, for an incident in her labs caused her to lose part of her disguise and have to come clean to Billie, Poochie, and Wolfie. It was through them who helped her realize that, no matter who you are, your voice deserved to be heard no matter what. From that point on, this support cast member decided to cease wearing the disguse and be her actual self. Though, I wouldn't mess with this quiet little genius. She's a little...mad (crazy), as the legends and cartoons portray her as.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

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Daniel Michaelson’s Story: Nate Vandrum, Two Years Before Daniel

(this is late for @whumptober2019 - it was planned for Day 18, Muffled Scream - but hey, it’s fun, so I’m posting it. This is Nate Vandrum, the Denners’ prior whumpee and Daniel Michaelson’s eventual savior of sorts, during his initial captivity when both twins are alive. TW/SW: knives, blood, abusive behavior, the Denners are awful)

Ashley’s sitting on his lap, facing him with her arms around his neck, crossed at the wrists just behind his head. She is close, so close her eerily pretty face takes up his entire field of vision. Slightly narrowed eyes, upswept at the corners and oddly feline, high cheekbones, wide mouth, white-blonde hair and eyebrows that seem sometimes to nearly disappear against equally-white skin.

The spitting image of her brother, nearly identical - but colder.

"You could have more scars," She murmurs in a voice like velvet soaked in whiskey, and as she leans in he turns his head to the side, looking away from her, trying to find a spot on the wall he can stare at instead.

Looking away is the best he can do. He has spent hours memorizing every mark on the walls while they turn him into someone other than who he used to be.

"Oh, Nate. Don't be so rude." She rolls her hips forward so they press against his, and he swallows hard at the way it doesn’t feel that bad at all. "You know the rules, don't you?"

There are so many rules.

Never pull away from Ashley or Abraham Denner. Never reject a touch. Never ask why. Say thank you for every gift you are given, and remember that every breath is a gift we give you now. Do whatever you are told to do, as soon as you are told.

Take each bruise, each bleeding wound, with gratitude.

Be our pet.

Fall in love.

He'd like to pretend they cannot force the last one on him, but Bram has been gone all day and Nate misses him - his touch, even the bruising ones, his kiss, his everything.

He'd been with them for years, and somewhere in there - somewhere between the pain and the things they do to him and the way they hold him afterward - his deep abiding hatred and urge to escape have been twisted, broken, reshaped.

Ashley he cannot be forced to love, but that's not what she wants, anyway.

Only Bram wants his love.

Ashley just wants his obedience and fear, and those are so much easier to give.

He slowly turns his head back to face her, jaw locked tightly, feeling the ring they put through his lip on one side shifting.

When his green eyes meet her blue, she laughs, a soft low sound from deep in her chest. "Fuck, that's so good to watch. Are you going to admit I’m right now? Hm? My Brammie won't be home til late, it's just… you and me and this argument we don’t have to be having."

Nate can feel the blade in her hand graze, gentle as a kiss, against the back of his neck. He does not stiffen up or go tense - never pull away from the Denners - and Ashley never lets the edge of a blade touch someone accidentally.

This is how she is choosing to touch him, and he has to accept it, even if it hurts.

Especially when it hurts.

“I’m not having an argument,” He says, feeling the blade move a little, the softest kiss of sharpness, around the side, up and down the line of the vein in the side of his neck, not quite cutting, not yet. Then over his Adam’s apple, smiling at him as he swallows hard and the blade pricks, just the slightly bit.

“What are you doing, then?” Her voice is a purr, a rumble in her chest.

“Not having an argument.” Nate fixes his eyes on hers, tries to look unintimidated, like the person he maybe used to be. “You’re just wrong.”

She lets the blade slice, just the barest bit, and Nate hisses air through his teeth, picturing the droplet of bright red welling up. She darts her head forward and he feels the wet press of her tongue as she licks it up. He used to get nauseous at that feeling. Now he feels nothing at all. “You don’t get to tell us we’re wrong. God damn do I love it when your blood is hot.”

She is playing with him, of course - this is a game. Ashley Denner has always been a cat and Nathaniel Vandrum little more than the mouse she is not allowed to consume, because her twin brother loves him and has declared he gets to live.

If he stays relaxed, if he looks bored, she might get bored, too, and walk away. Maybe.

She might decide to slice the collar again, the cuts in smooth lines that go around and around his neck but never too deep. If she does that, he must hold still. For every flinch or noise he makes, she’ll wind the knife another time.

He is very good at holding still for Ashley’s knife, now.

Never reject a touch.

She is safer when Bram’s home, because Bram loves him, and he hurts Nate because he loves him, because he has to be fixed, made better. If he’s good, if he does what he’s told to do, Bram won’t hurt him very much at all.

This relationship only works if you understand your place, Nate. You're my pet and I love you - we’re going to be together forever. But if you don’t understand that you belong to me, then I’ll have to break up with you, and then you’ll have to die.

Bram loves him, and he wants to keep Nate as a pet forever, and there are moments when Nate forgets who he is.

He was a professor, back home. He had a whole life before he met them.

Some days, it’s hard to remember that - and in those moments, he loves Bram, too, and all he wants is to make him happy. In those moments he feels like maybe he was meant for this, born to be with Bram and Ashley, born to kneel for Bram, that every single second of his life was leading up to the night they followed him home.

Bram says it all the time. You need to understand that you loved us already. You just didn't know it yet, before we found you.

I love you, Nate, so much, so much you get to live, with me forever. You'll never leave me. You'll never run.

If you leave me, I'll cut parts of you off until you never leave again.

I love you, Nate. I love you. I love you so much.

Now say it back or I’ll get the razor blades out again.

Bram Denner's a psychopath, and Nathaniel Vandrum is sometimes still himself and sometimes a pet, and he has no idea how long he can hold any part of himself together. He has no idea how much more of this there will be, only that it will last for the rest of his life, and one day they will get tired of him and kill him and at least it would all be over, then.

If Bram is a psychopath, Ashley is something even worse.

“You know, when you’re like this, I can see why Brammie loves you so much.” She shifts around again, leaning in close to kiss his cheek, a trail of kisses to his ear, down the side of his neck over the healing cuts that itch and itch, licking at the still-bleeding place she’d let the knife cut in. “You've got a nice jaw, good mouth, pretty nice eyes… I get it, I really do."

Other than the fact that she is clearly female, Ashley Denner looks exactly like her twin brother. Sometimes when they are hurting him, Nate can’t remember which one he is currently begging to stop, calls the one with the knife or the whip or the cane by the wrong name, and they laugh and laugh and hit him harder until he gets it right the next time.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Nate says dryly. He doesn’t stammer yet - the stammer comes later, after he tries one more time to escape and Bram hits him too hard in the head a few times. He doesn’t stammer yet. “But you’re still wrong.”

He is currently tied to a chair because the two of them are both fucking idiots, and they refuse to listen to someone who knows something they don’t.

If she were anyone else, the weight of her hips pressing lightly against his would have been supremely pleasant. Even with Ashley being exactly who she is, it isn’t exactly a bad feeling. He tries to remember when feelings like this came from people who weren’t in the process of slowly destroying him, piece by piece.

“I’m not wrong,” She says, rolling her eyes.

The knife trails down the side of his neck, over his collarbone, traces the line of it. There’s never enough food (not enough sleep, either - when one of them is done with him the other is only getting started) and he’s lost weight since he came here, defining the muscles they force him to exercise to build.

When he is good, he eats enough, but the days he is good are the days he starts to forget who he used to be, and so he’s never good for enough days in a row to fully lose the hunger.

He has to remember who he used to be.

He has to remember that he is a person.

He has to remember long enough to find the opportunity to escape.

“You are wrong.” Another prick of the knife, just above his collarbone this time, and he manages not to wince at the bright flash of pain as the knife digs in a little deeper. “You can’t be identical twins, Ashley.”

“Why not?” She cuts a smooth line across the length of his collarbone and up to his shoulder, and Nate lets his head fall back, teeth ground together as hard as they can to keep his jaw shut, shifting but not flinching away as the skin separates like she’s cutting butter, not him, and the blood wells up in a line.

She licks it away, a low pleased growl in her throat, and her other hand holds him still by the back of his neck, fingernails digging in hard, dimpling the skin until they ache, too.

“You’re a man and a woman,” He manages, voice strained with keeping control. Never reject a touch. Never pull away. Follow the rules.

Be grateful for the pain, because every breath is a gift we have chosen to give you.

“I fail to see the problem with that,” Ashley says against his skin. She moves the knife away and for a second he thinks maybe this will be all, this will be enough to satisfy her.

“Identical twins have to be the same biological sex. It’s a single person’s genes that get split into two eggs. You’re not identical twins.”

She pulls back and looks at him, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. “We were a single person, once, then we split in two. Male and female, like twin gods in the myths.”

Nate takes a deep breath.

She’s moved the knife back and away, and is watching him with no anger in her eyes. Maybe this time he’ll get through to her.

“Identical twins are always the same biological sex.”

“Unless they’re gods,” She counters.

“No,” Nate says trying to sound patient but his collarbone and shoulder ache from the cuts and he just wants her to undo the handcuffs and let him get out of the chair. “Even those stories about the gods - they’d have been fraternal twins. That’s what you are - you’re fraternal twins.”

“We’re identical.”

“No. You’re similar.”

She frowned. “No. We are identical twins.”

“You are very similar-looking fraternal twins, Ashley.”

“I’m going to tell Brammie you said that when you come home,” Ashley says, sitting back and away from him now, resting her weight entirely on his lower thighs where they connect to his knees. He swallows, knowing what’s coming, but somehow he can’t let this go.

He doesn’t love her.

She doesn’t want him to.

And she’s wrong.

“I’m going to tell him you said we’re not identical.” She changes her grip on the knife and he knows what is about to happen next.

He turns his head away one more time, closes his eyes, and waits.

“He’s going to be so upset with you, Nate.”

The blade of the knife jams straight through his shoulder and out the other side, buries itself with an audible thunk into the wood back of the chair, and Nate only barely keeps his mouth shut to muffle the scream.

Ashley leans in close again, watching him with wide eyes like a child looking into the reptile cage at the zoo, her head slowly tilting to one side until a bit of wavy blonde hair falls across her cheek. “No, Nate. I want to hear you. Turns me on.”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip until it bleeds, the agony spreading from his shoulder down his arm, into his chest, the feel of wet blood running in rivulets down his chest and back.

“I say we are identical twins, Nate. And I say you’re going to scream.”

She smiles, twists the knife as hard as she can, and Nate’s back arches him nearly out of the chair at the pain, still biting his lip, the cry trapped in his throat, keep it down, don’t make noise, she likes that too much and she’ll want too much afterward, don’t-

She twists again, and then time Nate screams, head thrown back, pulling helplessly trying to free himself, the handcuffs rattling hard against the back of the chair. Ashley grinds her hips into his and starts to laugh, a strange high-pitched hyena laughter, yanking the knife back out and somehow that hurts worse and he screams again.

He always tries to hold it back.

He always screams in the end.

“There we go. That’s our good, good boy. Now… are we identical twins, Nate?”

He’s breathing hard, panting really, like the dog they always tell him he is until he earns being a person. He can’t speak for the pain, can barely hear her over the buzzing agony, and all he can do is shake his head. “Fra-... fraternal,” He grinds out.

“Oooh, you are a masochist today,” Ashley says. Her voice is warm and playful but her eyes are very, very cold. “You are indeed. Okay, Nate. Have it your way.”

When the knife buries itself in his other shoulder, he doesn’t try to muffle the scream this time, just lets himself collapse and drown in it, in the sound from his own throat, in the pain that rattles the walls. She yanks it back out and he groans again, head dropping, black hair in his eyes.

Ashley twists her fingers into that hair and yanks his head back up. When he finally opens his eyes, narrowed against the ache, she waits until she is sure he is looking at her and slowly licks his blood off the blade.

“Bad puppy,” She says, and her lips are smeared red with his blood. “You’re a very, very bad dog. Let’s see how much of you is left by the time my Brammie gets home.”

#whumptober2019 #whump #intimate whumper #defiant whumpee #tw: knives #tw: blood #are the denners energy vampires regular vampires or just fucked up #you decide #Daniel Michaelson's story #Nathaniel vandrum #Abraham denner #Ashley Denner #just let it go nate

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fizzyxcustard · 5 years

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A Rose At Twilight (2)

Chapter 1

Masterlist here

Read the most up to date version on AO3 here

Summary: From the series 'Imagine your Thorin poster coming to life at night'. You notice that someone has been visiting you at night; things have moved and roses start appearing on your dresser. Your nightly visits with none other than Thorin Oakenshield start becoming more intense, passionate, and he is eager for you to return to Middle-earth and be his Queen. However, your abusive boyfriend Ryan stands in your way, intent on making your life hell. Will you and Thorin overcome all the obstacles to begin your new life together as King and Queen? And is your past with an abusive boyfriend the only challenge you now face in a new world? Your new friends and family help you uncover all your strength that you never realised you had. But will it be enough to fight away your past and the rising opposition of you becoming the Queen of Erebor?

Warnings: Domestic violence, emotional abuse, mental abuse, physical abuse, smut, oral sex, fluff, anxiety, depression, reference to suicide, poisoning, hospitalisation, strangulation, nightmares, character death.

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader/Original Male Character

Comments/Notes: Originally posted last year on fizzy-custard under the imagine title ‘Imagine your Thorin poster coming to life’. This fic is now 20 chapters long over on AO3, so if you want to skip ahead, the link is above and also in my blog header. If you wish to be added to any series, character or fandom tag list, message me or send an ask.

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @shikin83@theincaprincess@deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove@houseofrahl@mynameisnoneya1991 @blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda@cd1242 @c-s-stars@thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink@inumorph @leah-halliwell92 @greendragonette @msjava1972 @thequeenoferebor@bespectacled-bunny @ghostlyandee @raindancer2004 @dottiechan @captain-almighty@hobbitlover23 @catthefearless @epicallychrissy @nelswp@adaliamalfoy@spn-obsession

Thorin Oakenshield tag list: @exhausted-human-being @samara-marty-art

Hobbit tag list: @fentah @hails270105 @princess-of-erebor1992@mechromancing-cinnamon-roll @online-imagines-reader

A Rose at Twilight tag list: @obnoxious-in-pink

The rest of the day and you tried your hardest to put your mind away from the thoughts of what had happened the night previously. You served customers at your job in the local music and film shop, forcing a smile and trying to keep awake with non-stop coffee on breaks during stock checks.

By the end of your shift and you were drained in every sense, physically, emotionally and mentally.

As you got to your door and pulled out your key, your neighbour, a middle aged man from the maisonette flat next door, greeted you. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his hands full of bags of grocery shopping.

You looked at him, confused. “How do you mean? I’m fine.”

“I heard you arguing with your boyfriend last night. It was fairly late, around half one. I thought about coming round and knocking on your door.”

You froze. “Erm, yeah, everything’s fine. You know, lover’s tiff and all that. Thanks though, Terry.”

You opened your door as quick as you could and slammed it behind you.

Thorin must have been real. Your next door neighbour had heard you telling him to go away as you had battled with your own sanity, but also must have heard Thorin’s voice.

After slamming the door behind yourself, you quickly dashed back out into the damp air of the autumn evening. “Terry?” you called. Your neighbour was just about to close his front door and reappeared.

“Yeah?”

“What exactly did you hear last night?”

“Well, I couldn’t hear the exact argument but I could definitely hear your voice and a man’s. It was quite a deep voice, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure if it was your boyfriend’s. It sounded deeper than his, but it’s not my business to ask.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “Thanks.”

Thorin was real. How in the name of hell was he real?

You ran back into your flat and raced through into your bedroom. For a few seconds you stared at the poster on your wall. Was this where he had been coming from? “How can you be real?” you whispered, looking up at the image. “I believe you are, but how?”

***

For three nights you remained vigilant, hoping and praying that Thorin would come back to you. But your words of telling him to be gone must have sealed his resolution to not come back. During the nights you kept waking every hour and would call his name into the darkness, your heart pounding in excitement and anticipation at hearing his voice again.

Nothing.

On the afternoon of the fourth day since you had met Thorin, Ryan came to visit you. He brought a four pack of lager with him, but you could see he was already fairly intoxicated when he walked into the flat. He was staggering, his eyes heavy and his speech slurred.

“You’re drunk, Ry. Go home,” you told him as he followed you into the flat.

“Fuck that. I’m staying here...”

The look in Ryan’s eyes began to scare you as he came closer. “You stink of beer,” you hissed and shoved him away.

He grabbed you tight at your hip and pulled you against him and then kissed you, his wet lips sliding against yours.

“Get off me!” you shouted, shoving him away.

Ryan raised his hand and slapped you hard down the left hand side of your face, almost knocking you off your feet. Pain stripped through your face and you rocked backwards, only to then feel him grab your breast perversely. “Come on, babe. You like playing rough.”

Anger rose in you and you shoved him as hard as you could, pushing him completely to the ground. He looked up at you, shocked by your outburst and sudden retaliation.

“Get the fuck out!” you growled. “And don’t you dare come near me again.”

Ryan left your flat, dazed and silent. As your front door slammed shut, you fell backwards into a dining room chair and wept again. Where had that sudden surge in strength come from? Everything of late was becoming overwhelming, and you felt that intense need to get away wash over you again.

***

Two days later and you received a call from one of your mutual friends of Ryan. He was an ex colleague of yours who had introduced you to Ryan about a year previously. Your friend’s voice came down the phone line at you quickly and almost frantic. “Ryan has been attacked and is in hospital.”

“Hospital?” you asked. You looked around to see if anyone else was close enough to hear you as you sat in a local Starbucks drinking a coffee. “What happened?” You felt genuine concern for Ryan, wanting to know how severe his injuries were. “Is he alright?”

“He’s got concussion, a broken nose and missing a couple of teeth, but doctors say he’ll be okay. Do you know anyone who could have done this to him? He was on his way back from the pub around midnight when someone jumped him just outside his flat. The only description that Ry could give was it was a short bloke with long hair. And the strangest thing was, he had a sword on him.”

Immediately you sat bolt upright in your chair and felt shivers race down your spine, freezing cold. Short man with long hair, carrying a sword?

***

After work you raced home, running for the bus and then running again to your flat. Your whole world was spiralling out of control, but the bottom line was, you liked it. Someone had defended you, attacking your now ex-boyfriend for his disrespect and abuse. The thought of it all made you shiver from head to foot and smile at the same time.

By now it was dark as the autumn night closed in. The roads were shining with a fresh gleam of rain, and in the air a fine mist was beginning to descend.

You ran into your flat and straight into your bedroom, switching on the light.

“Thorin, I don’t know if you can hear me,” you said, slightly breathless, and feeling stupid for talking to nothing but thin air and a piece of paper on your wall. “I’m sorry for telling you to go away. I know what you did for me. You attacked Ryan. Please, come to me tonight.”

You waited.

Every slight bump or knock and you felt your heart leap. You remained on high alert to every sound. When you showered, you rushed to get dry and back into your room. You then fetched yourself a cup of tea, rushing around the kitchen to get back in your room.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you lay yourself down for the light, switching off your bedside lamp. By now the excitement of everything swirling around you became overwhelming and you dozed, swaying into a light sleep.

Until suddenly you jolted awake, gasping.

“Thorin?” you called out, praying with everything inside you that he would answer. “Please be there. Please.”

You reached out and turned on your lamp, letting light illuminate the room.

Tears fell down your cheeks as you looked upon your room and Thorin was nowhere in sight. “Why are you hiding from me?” you asked. “I’m sorry for what I said.

However, as you looked at the poster on your wall, you gasped again. His image was not there; the paper was only coloured by a blue background.

“Who said I was hiding?” a voice came, and your bedroom door slowly creaked open.

You felt your whole body freeze as you admired his form. He walked towards you, a smirk curling his lips upwards. “However could I stay away?” he asked, standing before you at the side of your bed. His blue eyes studied you, those beautiful eyes which held sadness and a sense of something longed for.

“You attacked Ryan?” you asked.

Thorin’s eyes grew darkened by his frustration and hatred for the man who had disrespected you. “No one dishonours you,” Thorin hissed. “Most of all the one who should love you and defend you.”

Complete silence overtook you. How could you answer such a statement? Was he declaring love to you? How could he love you?

Thorin sat down beside you, turning his upper body to face you. “I have watched over you for some time now; I’ve seen your tears, heard your laughter, and you have the spirit and heart of a Queen.”

You looked down, trying to comprehend his words and this whole situation. For a few seconds you forced your eyes shut and then looked up at him, smiling sadly. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you said. “You talk as though I’m strong and fierce, and I’m not.”

Thorin moved towards you. “You do not see yourself as I do. I heard you defend yourself against that oaf you have called your lover. There is strength in you, and you must believe in it.”

“That wasn’t strength. That was me trying to imagine being you.”

“Never be ashamed of yourself. Never,” Thorin insisted as he watched you hang your head. “Be proud of who you are, because I know I’m proud of you.”

You looked at Thorin as he sat beside you on the bed and smiled weakly at him. “If only things were that easy. You’ve got to be careful here. Attacking someone is a serious offence, and you can be arrested for it. Ryan described you as his attacked and I knew straight away that it was you.”

Thorin scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Then he should not have dared touch you the way he did. Vile, disgusting piece of filth. No honour, no respect...”

You reached forward and touched Thorin’s hand. “Just be careful, please. I’m not worth getting yourself arrested for and thrown in prison. And, anyway, how have you become so good at sneaking about?”

“I may have borrowed your key,” Thorin said and then smirked. “I know that you leave your bag next to your bed, and after I heard your altercation, I could not allow him to get away with his actions.”

“So, you can see me even during the day time?” you asked.

“I can see you, but I cannot move into your world until the sun has set,” Thorin replied.

“I can only imagine the weird crap you’ve had to watch and hear,” you giggled.

Thorin looked at you, shifting so he could turn himself towards you. “Watching you and being able to sit beside you as you have slept has lightened by heart greatly, dear one. I am glad that at present the nights are longer. It means I have more time to spend with you.”

In that moment you decided not to ask any more questions, and just allow the situation to unfold naturally as it was meant to. There was some supernatural force at play here; you had no idea what it was, but you said a silent prayer in your heart, thanking whoever was responsible for giving you this chance to find a connection with someone who genuinely cared for you. If this was indeed the Thorin you had always admired, then you knew he was kind, honourable, steadfast and would do anything in his power to protect you, as long as your intentions to him remained true.

You leaned against Thorin, your cheek being tickled by the fur on his pelt. “Thank you,” you whispered. “For caring.”

Thorin kissed your head and drew his arm around you. “I not only care for you, my dearest, I love you.”

He loved you? You had been having suspicions since you first met him that his feelings for you ran deep, but the words actually being said hit you hard. You swallowed hard and your heart jumped as a pleasurable shiver wound its way down your body. This man was prepared to fight for you, attacking anyone who disrespected you and that made you yearn for him, as well as the lust in his eyes, the beautiful words he spoke and his gentle touch.

Your eyes remained locked for a few more seconds until you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against his lips. You felt his beard tickle your chin and you smiled beneath the kiss. And then you felt his hand brush up your cheek, cupping it and caressing your skin.

The kiss grew deeper until you both lost your breaths and the heat mounted to such a plateau that you found yourself straddling him, your hips rocking against his. His right arm was holding your body tight to him, and his left hand was still in your hair. Thorin groaned, the sound becoming lost between your locked lips, until he began nuzzling and sucking your neck.

“My love,” he moaned loudly against you.

You had never felt so loved, treasured and worshipped as you did in those moments with Thorin.

The excitement of having Thorin beside you only kept you awake for so long, until fatigue began to get the better of you. The Dwarf King held you in his arms as you both lay down on your bed, warm beneath the covers and encased in each other.

You breathed in deep, savouring Thorin’s unique aroma. It was so unlike anything you had smelled before; leather mixed with musk, with the slightest touch of tobacco and earth.

“You must rest now,” he told you, his deep voice resonating from within his chest and throat, then vibrating through you. That voice was enough to send you over the edge with delight.

Thorin began to hum against you and kissed your hair, holding you tight. However, the realisation that you wouldn't wake up next to him began to unfold and you turned around in his arms. He smiled as you faced him, and you suddenly had the urge to kiss his long nose. Thorin chuckled at the impact of your lips tickling his nose and held you even tighter.

“I want to wake up next to you but you’ll be gone in the morning,” you said sadly.

“Do not think on it just now,” Thorin told you. “Allow yourself to sleep. I will always be with you in spirit.”

#thorin oakenshield #fanfiction #the hobbit #triggers #domestic violence #smut #warnings #thorin x you #thorin x reader #thorin x fem!reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x fem!reader #chapter 2 #poster coming to life

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curupiracue · 5 years

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LET’S INTERVIEW A SERIAL KILLER! (OH BOY!)

“Oh dear… You two managed to avoid my trap… I was hoping that the pain from losing your fingers, both physical and psychological, would dull your combat capability, but, ah well. I must congratulate you. I am now trapped.”

“Wait, trapped? Really? You had no other plans?”

“I mean… I was improvising...”

“Nah nah nah nah! You should have had a plan B at least! You put yourself in such an awful situation, and got nothing out of it?! Really?! Your plans suck. You suck! You’re a loser, an imbecile, a failure as a serial killer, a failure as a HUMAN BEING, a complete sucker…!”

“Ugh… Er, wasn’t one insult enough?”

“I’ve got more~” I said, clasping my hands and smiling.

“Hah hah hah…! No thanks...”

“Anywaaaayyy… So we finally meet, face-to-face.” I declared, taking a step closer to the killer and having Novalue stay behind me.

“It’s a pleasure too, is what I would say, but I’m afraid it would be just for politeness’ sake… I mean, how can meeting your worst enemy and possible-life-ender possibly be a pleasure?”

“I mean, it sure is for me~ Probs ‘cause you’re neither to me, and the fact that I have my reasons.”

“Oh?”

“Namely… INTERVIEWING A SERIAL KILLER! (Squees)”

“What.”

“OMG OMG OMG! Like, how’s life? Is it like anybody else's’? What are your views about this world? Do you have friends, true friends, like friends friends? How was your childhood like!? Huh huh huh?!”

“Nim, calm down...”

“I’m too fucking excited for that!” I said, clasping his hands and getting close, while turning my back to the killer.

“Breaaaathe...” He said, while putting a finger on my lips.

“AAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhh… Whew. Ok, I’m calm now. So let's get this little interview going!"

"Eto... Por hora... What's... hmm... onore-sama no namae wa?

"Hahahah... Well, aren't you an amusing one. Ultimately, it doesn't matter... because I'm about to eliminate you.

"Um, I'm sorry... is it Mr. Wellarentyouanamusingoneultimatelyitdoesntmatter Becauseimabouttoeliminateyou or HahahahWellarentyouanamusingoneultimatelyitdoesntmatter Becauseimboredofsayingstupidlylongnames?

"..." The killer seemed somewhat shocked, and thus stayed in silence.

"..." Novalue is not shocked at all, and thus stayed in silence. ...Jerk.

“Oh, sorry. Is it MISS Wellarentyouanamusingoneultimatelyitdoesntmatter Becauseimabouttoeliminateyou?”

“Oh, come now, don’t go making these sort of jokes. They might not be transphobic per se, but they do help in maintaining the overall environment, you know? And were it to be one here, I’m sure a biologically male girl would be at least a bit offended.”

“Ah, bueno! Boa observação! But, it could also offend someone who, regardless of their biological sex, identifies as a guy or a girl occasionally, ya’ know?” I replied, internally triggered.

“Hm? And there is such a thing?”

“There sure is~ It’s called genderfluid, if I recall. There’s also the gender neutral, people who don’t identify with any gender, and a buncha’ other stuff!”

“Ah, how nice! I see that today is actually a good day, for I have learned something new and of value!”

“...Irredeemably crazy, both of you.” Novalue said.

"What do you mean, kono hijo de puta! I" pose "am" pose "very" pose "insulted" pose "by" pose "your" pose "statement" pose "of" you're probably tired of this, aren't you? "hatred" fuck you though~ pose "towards" pose "my!" POSING INTENSIFIES "person"

“Er… Hahahahah… anyways… hah… Since you insist: It’s Ienorb. Ienorb Yenruoj. Remember it well, for it is the name of the man that will kil-”

“NOW, you’re cooperating~ Also, shut up. Sooo… what are your motivations for murder?! Do you have a tragic backstory?!”

“Meh, not really.”

“...Meh?”

“I simply desire for others to be killed by my hand. I don’t necessarily want to see them dead, nor do I want to see them killed by me, though.”

“Ah.” ...Well… I’m in a disappointed mood right now. A murderous disappointed mood.

“If there is anything...”

“MM?!”

“...Is that I simply desire to see art in it’s completitude...”

“Huh? Be more specific...?”

“Because… Isn’t art something that deserves better than a void? A void, an empty outer space where all it’s practitioner can do is float, and float aimlessly… No. Art must be like a science, with guidelines, and objectives to fulfill! But which are which? What is a fail, and what is a win? I wish to discern that, because otherwise all that is artistic shall be meaningless and pointless.”

“(sigh...) for an artist, you sure are a dumbass… Can you paint over what’s already been painted? The basis for all art is a blank canvas. Out of all the numbers, 0 is the only one that is infinite.”

“Is that right? But I myself wonder if you really think like that. It’s not restricted merely to art either. Morals, values, interpretations, the entirety of the abstract, and perhaps even the “objective” observable reality. Can you really accept a world where all belief is a lie?”

“...It’s not about whether one accepts it or not. The truth is unflinching to any and all feelings. Besides, even if one’s beliefs cannot match a reality by default, or if they can but you can’t be sure of it… You can still try your best. I think painting is more fun than having paintings. Maybe there’s no objectifiable meaning to your art, but people can create ones that they agree on, or have fun trying to do so. “What is art?” They might question. And they say that this is what makes a win, and they say that this is what makes a fail, and they argue. Such is life, beneath the curtain of the lies and false promises of truth.”

“Outrageous! What is this madness of half truth that you propose!? And even if “true”, why must your theory have it decided by oth-”

“Ultimately, does this really matter when you’re killing people for it?” Novalue butted in in the conversation, realising it was getting long.

“(Sigh...) Mr… Sorry, what’s your name…?”

“Novalue. And he is Nim.”

“Mr. Novalue, there are no consequences to my actions. My victims are made to disappear, don’t you realise? As it is so, none can be sad about their demises… I cause no misfortune at all, except for the removal of life. And what is life worth, anyways? It’s merely a way of creating feelings, which in optimal scenarios are positive, on both one’s self and others. A factory of happiness and work, which in itself is nothing but a way to acquire more happiness. Isn’t that an utilitarian way to look at it? It has value, but it’s not sacred, and said value can be negative as well.”

That… actually sounds... pretty reasonable. Horrible... but reasonable...

“Hold on.” Novalue once again interrupted: “You say that, but it’s quite convenient for you that they “are made to disappear”. Do you really believe any of that? Or are you merely trying to justify your actions making use of selfish acts?”

“Even if I am… What is it that is being punished here? Me by my actions, or me by my intentions? To judge someone by their intentions is not only problematic, as they’re most likely obscure, but also unnecessary: someone evil that does good, or at least doesn’t do evil, is perfectly harmless, and as such, there is no reason to engage in brutal acts that only result in unhappiness. Specially with psychic powers: it might have been fair two centuries ago, but now, in a time where’d be impossible to imprison me… Will you really criticise my murders when you’re about to commit one yourselves? No… Mr. Novalue, what you accused me of doing actually applies more to you than it does for me.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

Not. I was just scared that Nim might be sympathizing with you too much, Ienorb.

“Huh? But you’re going to kill us as well. And you can’t use Shadowy Killer to eras-”

“How do you kn-”

“Shut up. And well… Do you have anyone that would miss you?”

“Well… I contribute to society...”

“While keeping a hell of a low profile.”

“Geh… Ok, only with small things...”

“So, if you’re wrong, we need to kill you to stop the murders. And if you’re right, then we don’t need to kill you, but there is also no reason not to do so, and in addition, you shouldn’t kill us.”

“(sigh...) Well, I don’t care that much if I’m in the wrong. I’ll fight for my life, if need be. However… Should you really risk your existences to do something so very pointless? Think… What’s life? What’s death? What does those things mean to you, if anything? I must survive… But merely so that I can reach the pinnacle of art, that which I’m convinced exists. Perhaps, just like you two, I’m being cowardly and running away from a lack of meaning. But, that is what I’ve dedicated my life to. And as such, we must fight.”

#stories #Mywhatamentalworld

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ehyeh-joshua · 5 years

Text

@dracorinismoi:

The reply got way too long to do as a reply...

Orginal statement:

“Well, if you look at Christians in Nazi Germany and the Roman Catholic Church history you should see that at some points in history, our ancestors had been on the same level as Islam. Catholics, Arians and Calvinists all had their share of bloody history. Just because it’s not happening now doesn’t mean we can just deny it happened. Yes, Islam has always been evil but that’s NOT my point.”

Ok, let’s start with Nazi Germany. This is going to get long, I can write volumes on the Third Reich. I will try to be concise.

First of all - the definition of Jew under Nazi law was anyone who had three or four Jewish grandparents was a Jew. Under that definition, the overwhelming majority of the other 5+ million victims of the Holocaust were Christian, and most of them being Catholic.

Which leads to the second point; Protestant Christianity had a schism with faithful Christians denouncing the “German Christians”, while Catholic Bishops were banning Catholics from joining the Nazi party in the lead-up to the 1933 elections, Catholic leadership were warning about them from the 20s onwards, Catholics were near banned from holding civil service offices and thousands of Catholics were put into concentration camps in 1933, Catholic schools were forced to take down iconography and put up pictures of Hitler, Hitler Youth events were timetabled to coincide with church services and therefore force children to stop attending church, and only signed the 1933 concordat because of Bishop’s fears for the safety of the church in Germany (Cardinal Pacelli - future Pius XII - stated that he signed the concordat with a pistol to his head) Hitler forced Bishops to swear oaths of fealty, and stated publicly in 1942 that the concordat had never meant anything and that he intended to abolish it after the war, and did absolutely nothing about the 70 violations of the concordat that Pacelli brought up. At Dachau a dedicated barracks for the internment of Catholic Priests was set up, Cardinal Faulhaber had an assassination attempt made on his life, Goebbels banned the Church from using paper in 1941, in 1936 Hitler authorised children being removed from Church schools to be forced into sun-worship rituals, Bishop Clemens August Graf von Galen declared in 1937 that Hitler was conducting a war against the Church, at the outbreak of war in Poland church meetings were banned temporarily, over three hundred monasteries, convents and church buildings were ransacked throughout Nazi government, Rosenberg - a neo-pagan, noted for his hatred of Christianity, Hitler placed as leader of culture and education envisioned the obliteration of Christianity, with the Bible and crucifixes being banned, all churches in Germany to be controlled directly by the Reich, and the cross to be replaced by the swastika.

Contrast this with the Nazi position on Islam, which is best archtyped by examining the SS (NOTE: SS, not Wermacht) formations set up specifically to be Islamic, after Himmler, who was fascinated by Islam and used some Islamic theories in SS methodology modified Nazi racial theory to include the totally non-Ayran Turkish background Muslims of former Ottoman Empire territories in the Balkans.

1st, 13 Waffen-Gebirgs-Division der SS 'Handschar' - a division-strength unit composed purely of Croatian Muslims, and 2nd, the Skanderbeg 21st Waffen SS division - another division composed of Albanian Muslims. Both of these were instrumental in prosecuting the Holocaust in the Balkans, responsible for the deaths of 90% of Yugoslavian Jews.

Next, Hitler personally invited the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem to meet him several times, and he was recognised as Fuhrer of the Islamic world, sharing in common the conviction that Jews were the most dangerous threat, and spent much time on Nazi propaganda radio broadcasts to the Arab world supporting the Nazis (the price being the liquidation of Jews in Israel) and when Adolf Eichman tried to negotiate the transfer of 5000 Jewish children with the British government in exchange for prisoners of war, the Mufti personally intervened requesting the SS kill them, and they were murdered in Poland, and he personally admonished the camp guards at Auschwitz to work more efficiently, proclaiming he wanted all the Jews killed.

I could go on. Christians were persecuted by the Nazis from 1933 onwards, with tens of thousands imprisoned in the pre-war era, churches destroyed and the Catholics blackmailed into signing a piece of paper that, just like most treaties Hitler signed, wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. By contrast, Islam had the support of the Nazis as fellow haters of Jews (and Christianity by extension) and had Nazi ideologies redefined, even up to allowing the racially pure Ayran SS to be extended to include Muslims.

This pattern holds - religious conflicts? Christian internal conflicts are small, and mostly put to agree-to-disagree and strongly worded letters, with only rare bloodshed. (mostly used by the state with the Church being caught and used as a tool) By contrast, Islam is inherently divisive, and such divisions turn almost immediately to violence, and have done so since Mohammed. On average, at least one Muslim will kill at least one Muslim every single day because of religious divisions. Most of the time the casualty rate is far higher, given the propensity to commit suicide attacks with explosives.

Slavery? Slavery is something practiced almost universally - the only groups to totally reject it have been disproportionately white, male and Christian. By contrast, the Quran supports slavery - men are told they may capture slaves, and have sex with them if women, more times than they are told to pray five times a day. (a belief found in the Hadiths) To this day, Islam uses slaves, and treats them brutally often working slaves to death. And, if you have male and female slaves, you may force them to copulate to suit goals as you see fit. By contrast, the Torah’s commands on slaves is most easily summarised as treat them as your own family; I estimate that at least a fifth of people in the Modern West would be better off as slaves to a Torah observant person than they are now.

Sex? no group within mainstream Christianity has ever endorsed polygamy, while the few non-Christian heretics who did support it quietly hide it now; on the basis of numerous references from throughout the Scriptures and biology, I maintain that the chief purposes of sex are female pleasure, uniting the couple and procreation, pretty much in that order. (I’ll grant that is a somewhat controversial view) Judaism has maintained for thousands of years that a wife is allowed to divorce her husband for not pleasuring her enough sexually, and that the right to sex belongs to the woman, not the man. By contrast, Mohammed maintained that Allah said he could have as many wives, and fuck them however he wished, while normal Muslims are limited to 4 wives, with domestic abuse commanded as a response to disobedience. Oh, and you can rape a woman in front of her husband if you beat him in battle.

It annoys me exceedingly greatly that people maintain the lie that Christianity is as bad as Islam. The greatest lament about Christianity is not enough people are like Jesus, while the thing I am most grateful for about Islam is that most Muslims are not as evil as Mohammed.

And that’s all I can be bothered to do, since my analysis indicates the probability of this being futile nears 1.

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years

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Obsidian VII

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Taehyung (V)

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, violence)

Word Count: 9,861

Summary: The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath. All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.

“Y/N!”

The voice is male, loud and I turn – alarmed, slightly surprised to see Taehyung’s younger brother. “Jaewoo?” I ask, leaning in. I reach for him, stopping myself when he flings himself into Yoongi’s empty chair. “What’s happening?” I demand, searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

Jaewoo sinks lower in the seat, breath frantic. His eyes are wide, blood-shot with hair spilled haphazardly across his forehead. “It’s,” he gasps, chest rising and falling. “I –”

“Hey,” I scan his face. “It’s okay. Just,” my stomach twists, already imagining the worst. “Start at the beginning. Tell me what happened – is it Taehyung?” I ask, lowering my voice. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s the Council,” Jaewoo gulps. He appears calmer, enough to blurt, “The Council visited him after his concert last night. Y/N, I think Taehyung is in trouble.”

Taehyung stares at the floor.

The boards beneath him are cracked, worn and he traces over them with his eyes. If Taehyung concentrates on this, rather than what’s inside, he doesn’t have to face the reality he fears. Feebly, his hand finds to the ground, gripping the floor while Taehyung’s head lowers to his chest.

There are so many people the token could belong to. His fingers close around nothing as he takes a breath. What he told the Council was true – his father did have many followers, he inspired a blind trust in those he led. It could be anyone, really raising demons. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time his father’s name was attached to such monstrosities.

Slowly, Taehyung looks up. There’s a mirror across from him, floor-length and in it, he sees himself clearly. Taehyung traces his jaw, the same as his father’s. His face is hard, inscrutable staring back – just like the man he despised. His eyes, though – Taehyung’s heart lifts, since his eyes are his mother’s. While he stares at his reflection, Taehyung feels the familiar ache enter his heart. His mother’s death was hard for him, but worse for Jaewoo. When she died, it crushed his spirit.

Even in death, Jaewoo did not forgive their father. Taehyung remembers this day clearly, coming home from University to the news his father had passed. He remembers standing in white suits by the casket, while it was lowered slowly into the ground. Many attended that ceremony. Many paid their respects to the man – Taehyung had to place a binding spell on Jaewoo, just to get him to come.

His brother stared ahead, jaw clenched tight while their father was buried from view. When a warlock dies, the ceremony is different from that of a human. There are priests and priestesses, yes – but it is a celebration, not mourning. Magic users worship the elements, heralding the brute forces which shape and make the world. Dying is rebirth, a release from the human body to flow free.

A funeral is a celebration, though Taehyung and Jaewoo saw things differently. It was an actual celebration for them, since the man they’d long feared was now dead. Things are never as simple as you think they are though, and Taehyung was never happy with his father dying. He and his brother were shackled by pain, by the anger and hatred their father instilled. Even once he was gone, his memory lived on. His memory was not a good one, especially after the Council intervened. There was a night they came to their door, forcing their father to stop. The dishonor made their father bitter, hostile – and he eventually descended into madness. Succumbing to despair, before eventually taking his own life.

Taehyung never felt sorry. Or rather – he never felt sorry for the situation. His father did not love them, did not care about Taehyung beyond his legacy. He raised them both at arm’s length, refusing to teach them of love because he did not find it important. It was entirely by accident, Taehyung felt anything at all. It was his mother, she was the one who nurtured the good in him. She taught him to care, to understand. He never had the chance though, to say that he loved her.

Still, Taehyung had a certain filial duty towards his father. He felt the need to be there in the end – if only to respect the man who gave him life. His father brought him into this world, it was only fitting that Taehyung see him out. Jaewoo held no similar sentiment. He stared straight ahead, as the casket was lowered. It was only Taehyung’s spell, keeping him from running.

When they arrived home, Taehyung released his brother from his grip. It’s a sight Taehyung’s never been able to forget – his brother snapping, rushing froward, with fury in his eyes. He very nearly hit Taehyung, only to stumble past and grab onto the counter. His breathing quick, eyes flamed with anger Taehyung had never seen before. Not in his brother, at least. He’d only seen it in their father – and this was the first time, Taehyung wondered if something was wrong.

Jaewoo lay broken on their counter, fingers uncurling as Taehyung realized blearily, he’d forgotten to turn on the lights. It didn’t matter, not really. Their house had never been warm, not even when they lived there. In the darkened kitchen, Taehyung stepped forward to wrap his arms about his brother. He stroked Jaewoo’s hair, like their mom used to, and pretended everything would be okay. It was the first time, though, that Taehyung thought things might not.

This is largely the reason Taehyung keeps Jaewoo close by. It’s why he brings him on every tour, providing him a job, education and money. The effects of their father, the scars that he left – these things broke them both. Taehyung managed to rebuild, but Jaewoo. Jaewoo did not.

It can’t be him. Taehyung stares at his reflection, flexing his fingers. It can’t be his brother, this would be absurd. When would Jaewoo have had time to orchestrate this? Where would he have gotten the resources? And why? Stomach churning, Taehyung considers the impossibility. Humans died, in the failed summonings. Humans died, which would make Jaewoo – his baby brother – a murderer.

Rather than reject this statement, Taehyung lowers his chin to his chest. He stares at the floor, expression bleak as he remembers. Yoongi’s voice rings out in his mind. Yoongi’s voice, and the question he once asked of him.

I heard in one of your Games, someone died. Not at the hands of whatever monsters you’re locked in there with, but at another competitor. I heard it was you, you who killed them.

It was not Taehyung who killed the girl that night.

It was his brother. It was Jaewoo.

“Trouble?” I gather my purse, quick to my arms. “What kind of trouble?” I ask, though I’ve already half-risen from my chair. “Who are the Council – and what do they want with Taehyung?”

Jaewoo’s eyes widen. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never met them in person – Taehyung is the only one who’s seen them. They only come to issue a command, or hand out a reprimand. I’ve been lucky enough to have avoided both.”

Glancing around the shop, I see Yoongi still immersed in his conversation with Jo. He smiles happily, and it’s impossible for me to even think about dragging him away. “Let’s go,” I declare, buttoning my coat higher. I miss several holes, eventually just giving up to wind my scarf around my neck. “Where are we going?” I ask, pushing open the door.

I’m walking so fast I get ahead of him, striding until I see Jaewoo’s face in the window. “Y/N,” he breathes, skidding to a stop beside me.

I pause, at his expression. His face is sweaty, strained and my first instinct is he’s guilty. Of what, I don’t know – and slowly, I push this instinct aside. This is Taehyung’s brother, I remind myself. I can trust him, I should trust him. “Yes?” I frown, forcing my discomfort aside.

Jaewoo inhales, pulling on gloves. “We need a plan,” he mutters. “We can’t just barge in there like idiots. That’s the quickest way to die, I hear.”

I pause, since he’s right. In a hostage situation, hastiness costs people their lives. Trying to ignore my discomfort, I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay,” I exhale, forcing myself to think. “Update me on the situation, then – while we walk,” I instruct, turning. “Where are we heading? Who are the Council? How long has Taehyung been missing, and when did you notice?”

To my surprise, Jaewoo falls into step beside me. He catches up to me easily, shoving both hands into his pockets. Wisps of hair blow over his eyes, currently tight with tension. “We’re going to a building a few blocks south,” he mutters, waving a hand to turn a spotlight green. “I’d say we can use magic to transport – but honestly, the Council will notice. I only know where Taehyung is because of the tracking spells we keep on each other.”

Frowning, I burrow my hands deeper. They have tracking spells. It makes sense, it’s something I should do with Yoongi for safety. Maybe he’d worry less about me in the field – I wince though, considering what would have happened had Yoongi known where I was, the first few times I slept with Taehyung.

“The Council,” Jaewoo continues, ignoring my silence, “is our governing body. They have a variety of duties, most of which aren’t known to the general population. The reason you meet with them is if you’re in trouble, or have a destiny – neither of which is good, typically.”

“I see,” I respond, lifting a hand over my eyes. I squint at the buildings, deciphering our surroundings while Jaewoo turns left. “What does this have to do with Taehyung?” I exhale, catching up.

“Getting there,” Jaewoo nods, making another right to enter an alley.

My steps falter, as I force myself to keep walking. One foot in front of the other, trying not to be wary. Jaewoo is a warlock, and – I stop myself from that thought. I’m being paranoid. Jaewoo is Taehyung’s brother, he’s never given me any reason not to trust him. As we walk though, I scan the walls. They’re mostly windowless, made of damp brick and stone.

“I know this isn’t the first time the Council have visited Taehyung,” Jaewoo frowns, walking ahead. “He wouldn’t tell me what happened, after. They scared him, Y/N – they,” he glances at me. “There were certain things which transpired after – I get the feeling they told him something that night.”

“Like what?” I pant, struggling to keep up.

Jaewoo slows, seeing my expression. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But given whatever this,” he gestures loosely in my direction, “ is, whatever the two of you are – it doesn’t bode well, in my opinion. I doubt the Council is happy with you two dating. I doubt they’d just let Taehyung continue.”

“Let him?” I blurt out, thoughts spiraling. I can’t believe I didn’t think about this before – how the dark would react, to having one of their own dating well, me. “What would they do?” I mutter, fearing the worst.

Jaewoo doesn’t answer at first, heels loud upon the pavement. “Taehyung is strong,” he muses. “But the Council is too much for even him to take alone.”

We lapse into silence, nearing the end of the alley. When we reemerge onto the busy street, I grab hold of his arm. “Wait,” I sigh, spinning him to face me. When I touch him I shudder, eyes rolling back in my head.

It only lasts a second, before Jaewoo twists away. “What are you doing?” he snaps, face inches away from mine. He glares pointedly, eyes like fire. “Listen – I need your help right now, but I want to make one thing clear. I don’t like you. I don’t like you, don’t like your kind, and don’t approve of you dating my brother. You’re going to get him in trouble – hell, you already have – and Taehyung is the only family I have left.”

Standing on the crowded sidewalk, I struggle to blink away my grogginess. I have the oddest sensation right now – almost déjà vu, though that makes no sense. I’ve never touched Jaewoo before, never felt his trace. Glancing up at street signs, I see nothing familiar – perhaps we passed someone I know, further back.

Though I twist, craning my neck – I eventually return to Jaewoo. “Listen,” I caution. “We don’t have time to argue. I care deeply for your brother; it’s why I came in the first place. Suffice to say I have issues with the dark, you have issues with the light, but – we both want to save Taehyung.”

Jaewoo pauses, observing my expression. Something uncertain flickers in his gaze, though he quickly turns. “Come on,” he mutters, not waiting for me to follow.

I trail after him in silence, pushing my way between hordes of people, all as I hurry in a direction only Jaewoo knows. “How do you know it’s them,” I finally ask, and Jaewoo looks back. “How do you know it’s the Council that’s taken Taehyung?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone could have him,” I repeat. “I’ll admit it’s odd, that I haven’t heard from him all night – but this could be nothing. Or it could be a trap. Shouldn’t we at least consider this?”

Jaewoo doesn’t seem concerned, shaking his head. “I heard from a reliable source that the Council visited after his concert.” When we turn the corner, enter another alley – this one is even darker than the last. “The sorceress saw the Council go in, but never go out. Taehyung has been missing since. It’s true,” Jaewoo stops, abruptly turning to face me. “I might be wrong but I have to do something. I can’t just sit here, pretending everything is okay. The tracking spell ends there,” he gestures, “inside that building.”

Heart pounding, I turn around to look. There’s a crumbling façade, barely more than brick and mortar held by sheer willpower. Winkling my nose, I smell the prevailing odor of piss and sweat. “Here?” I counter, scanning the yard. “The highest-ranking warlocks and sorceresses took Taehyung here, for interrogation?”

Jaewoo narrows his eyes. “Scared, princess?”

Stiffening, I straighten to unwrap my scarf. It’s never a good idea to have things wrapped around your neck, in case of a fight. “In your dreams,” I mutter, then walk inside.

My first thought is that I should have checked the perimeter for defensive spells. I think this as soon my feet hit the wood but luckily, nothing happens. Or perhaps that’s not lucky – if there are no spells, it means that whomever’s inside is confident they won’t need them.

Jaewoo follows me, I see this from the corner of my eyes. “Where are they,” I whisper, attempting not to be overheard.

Jaewoo lifts a hand to point. When I see the stairs, I nod, continuing to walk forward. It’s quiet. Completely and utterly still, which it shouldn’t be – not if someone isn’t expecting us, I think as my hand wraps around the banister. If someone knew we were coming, they’d lie for us in wait.

Thinking this, I whirl. In a panic I yell, reaching for Jaewoo because I need him to get out. I need him safe, since this is almost certainly a trap. My warning only lasts a moment, before light explodes at the top of the landing.

“Wh –” is all I have time for, as the shape darts past.

Dark and light, dust and shadow slam into Jaewoo below. He flies backwards, hitting plaster and sending a resounding crack through the room.

“Argh,” he groans, paint raining down from above. Jaewoo inhales, head snapping up – eyes dark, as he flies at whatever’s attacking us. Jaewoo twists, becoming a ribbon of shadow that manages to land a punch on his attacker. The person becomes visible, only for a second, but –

“Taehyung!” I gasp, clamoring down the stairs.

He turns at my voice, elbow half-cocked. When he sees me, he softens. Jaewoo gets in one, final punch and Taehyung’s head whips around – body freezing, at the sight of his brother. He stares at Jaewoo, grip loosening on his collar. Taehyung pauses as uncertainy – anguish – fly over his features. He doesn’t release Jaewoo though, which surprises me.

When I reach the floor, I lay my hand on his arm. “Hey,” I murmur, and Taehyung jumps.

He looks at me, grip loosening. “What’s happening,” he breathes – and I notice that his breathing is heavy. Taehyung looks at me wild, eyes dark and rimmed. “Why did you scream, Y/N? Why did you call out?”

Understanding dawns and I realize – when I pushed Jaewoo aside, I thought I screamed. I suppose I did, just not in the way I intended. Not out loud. It was Taehyung I asked, Taehyung who came – and slowly, my gaze drifts to the staircase. This means the Council isn’t here.

Frowning, I try to connect the dots. Before Taehyung appeared, it felt like something was off. I felt it crawling over my skin, but if that wasn’t the Council – then what was I so afraid of? Whatever it was, it needs to wait – since right now, Taehyung needs to let go of his brother.

“Taehyung,” I exhale. “Do you really think Jaewoo – your brother – is trying to hurt me?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond to this. A long moment passes, before slowly – excruciatingly – he withdraws his hands. Jaewoo gasps, collapsing onto the ground. His hands reach for his neck, massaging as his lungs fill with air. Taehyung stares at him impassively – before exhaling, remorse showing for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, still staring. “I’m so sorry.”

Jaewoo looks up, vision blurred. “I,” he rasps, then coughs. “It’s okay. I know this doesn’t look great, from your perspective.”

Taehyung just nods, before turning. You’re okay? he asks me softly, projecting into my head.

I move closer, sliding my hand to his. “I’m okay,” I affirm out loud.

Taehyung turns back to Jaewoo. “Explain,” he clips, voice serious. “Why are you here, in a known warlock den – why the hell would you bring Y/N here?”

Now I, too, am looking at Jaewoo. A warlock den – a traveling home of sorts, one warlocks use on the run from the light. Even if the Council did bring Taehyung here, it’s an awfully large detail to overlook. There could have been other warlocks present, ones which could have caught us unawares.

Jaewoo, at least, has the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I wasn’t thinking. I was too caught up in getting to you, and – I just forgot. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung narrows his gaze. “Something bad could have happened to you both, Jaewoo.”

When Jaewoo opens his mouth, I step in between. “Hey,” I say, placing my palms flat upon his chest. “You just disappeared. We couldn’t find you – Jaewoo was worried and came to find me. His tracking spell brought us here, which is the only reason we’re at this house. It wasn’t his fault.”

Rather than argue, Taehyung looks puzzled. “Tracking spell?” he glances over my shoulder. “Jaewoo hasn’t been able do that for me since we were teenagers. Oh,” Taehyung exhales, as though he understands. “Ah – did it go wrong, Jaewoo? Did the spell malfunction?”

Jaewoo looks – well, murderous is a good way of putting it. His eyes are small, hands bunched into fists. “It must’ve,” he hisses, caught in between his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung still doesn’t move, contemplating. At last, the weight of something within him seems to crumple. “Whatever the reason – it’s done, now,” Taehyung’s grip tightens. “Jaewoo,” he pauses. “Do you have your token? I think it’s time I told Y/N about... our past. I want to tell her about – him,” he blurts, dropping his gaze. “Can I have your token, to show her?”

Jaewoo’s stares back, impassive. “Why would I carry one?”

Taehyung merely looks up at him, gaze quiet. “Don’t you?”

After a long moment, Jaewoo nods. He walks forward, reaching into his jeans to pull out – a thin, metal disc. It’s black, round and Jaewoo drops this into Taehyung’s outstretched palm. “Go wild,” he mutters, before turning his back. “Oh,” he stops, lifting a hand. “I guess I can use magic n –”

He disappears.

Taehyung and I are left alone and he sighs, looking at my face. “Hi,” he whispers, and I smile.

I lift on tip-toe, brushing his lips with mine. “Can we go somewhere?” I say, and he nods.

Taehyung’s arms are gentle, transporting us to his hotel. When he steps into the room, running a hand through his hair – I notice for the first time what he’s wearing. Leather pants, undone shirt, Taehyung’s hair is messy with mousse and sweat. “You haven’t changed,” I observe – then frown. “Why haven’t you changed?”

Taehyung stops before his window. He doesn’t respond to me, fingers playing over the token. He looks across the city, bright with day – and just stands there, obvserving. When I cross the room, sliding both arms about his waist, I rest my cheek against his shoulder. Taehyung relaxes into this, eyelids fluttering shut.

“It’s funny,” he mumbles, speaking to the glass. “I never understood, why couples hugged so much. Why they spent so much time touching each other– for no apparent reason, it seemed. It was pointless, back then.”

“And now?” I ask, turning into his shirt. I feel as though he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how. “How do you feel about it now?”

“Now,” in the glass, I see the corner of Taehyung’s mouth lifts. “Now you’re going to be late to work – aren’t you?”

I hesitate, because it’s true – but shake my head, since I don’t want to leave. Not yet, not now. Not before Taehyung explains what last night meant. The Council is real, they visited him. I get the feeling something is wrong.

“Is the Council real?” I venture. “Did they visit you? What did they say?”

Taehyung tenses. “Who,” he breathes, turning – seeing my expression, he softens. “Ah. Jaewoo.”

I don’t disagree. “He thought they had you somewhere, thought our relationship had gotten you in trouble. So,” I whisper, almost afraid to ask. “Was he right? Did they threaten you?”

Taehyung pauses, searching my face. “I thought the same as Jaewoo, when they first appeared.”

“It’s true then,” I breathe, eyes wide. Swift panic shoots through my chest. “The Council saw you last night.”

Taehyung sighs. “They did.”

I wait and when he doesn’t continue, raise a brow. “And then, what? Why did they come – what did they want?”

His hands slide to my elbows, thumbs brushing over the edge of my sweater. “I showed you some of my past,” he responds, thoughtful. “I didn’t tell you everything.”

I’m slightly thrown. Taehyung appears both here and not – both present, and far. When he opens his hand to look at the token, I follow his gaze. Ebony, cool – smooth, like ice. “My father,” Taehyung hesitates, swallowing. “My father is well-known to the dark.”

“Known, how?” I ask, since this could mean anything.

“I suppose this depends on who you ask,” Taehyung mutters, tucking the trinket back in his pocket. He turns, striding from this room and into the next.

I follow, watching him sit down on the bed. He looks tired. Taehyung’s face is drawn, pale while leaning back on his hands. When he looks at me, I fight the urge to go to him. His body calls out, and I want nothing more than to settle myself on his lap. I want to give comfort, but there’s something Taehyung needs to tell me. Comfort will have to wait.

Swallowing, Taehyung takes the token back out. “He,” Taehyung exhales, staring at his palm. “He was a bad man, even by dark’s standards. He was obsessed with the notion of destiny. He thought magic was an evolutionary advantage, one designed to help us rise above ordinary humans.”

I don’t respond, though my posture stiffens. I’m well-aware this is common rhetoric amongst the dark.

“Many people followed him” Taehyung continues, quiet. “Each carried with them this token, marking themselves as special. He wanted Jaewoo or I to lead, and when it became clear we wouldn’t – he tried to convince us with other methods. Force was one of them,” Taehyung stares blankly at the ground, “coercion was another. He threatened us, hurt us. When the Council intervened, it was too late to save him. That was the first time,” Taehyung confesses, drawing his legs up on the bed, “I met the Council. That time was an accident.”

He sits that way, cross-legged and startlingly young. Taehyung looks lost, so confused I can almost picture how he looked so many years ago.

“They told my father to stop,” Taehyung mutters, remembering. “The Council called him brutish, illogical and demanded he see the whole picture. If our playthings were dead, what next? We’d turn on each other. It was a mistake I overhead at all,” Taehyung continues, “since I was hiding in my father’s study that day. I was hiding from him, and I heard it all. The Council ruined my father, humiliated him – and I was glad.”

I continue to watch, as his expression turns bleak. “When the cult ended – that’s what it was, after all – our home fell to chaos. Our father lashed out, even more after I left for University. Jaewoo was the only one at home, during that time. I don’t think I’ll ever know for certain,” he admits, “what transpired, when I went away. I think about it often but,” Taehyung’s voice breaks, hanging his head. “I don’t know what I could have done.”

He’s quiet, lost in thought. “You said the first time,” I say softly, leading him back. “When was the second time, you saw the Council?”

Taehyung’s expression darkens, breath rattling. “It was the night before the Games,” he admits. “It was after our father died, when I’d already gained a… certain notoriety for my skills.”

“The Games,” I repeat, dim memory coming back. Yoongi accusing Taehyung of killing someone. Taehyung agreeing, though I remember even then, I thought he was lying. “What did they say to you?” I ask, curious.

Taehyung doesn’t answer, and I think I’ve lost him – until he inhales. “The Council said someone would attack my brother,” he recites. “They said my brother would not just defeat them, but kill them.”

Unsure what to say, I hesitate. “Is this… unusual, for your Games?”

Taehyung bites his lip. “We’re not animals, Y/N. We do not kill our own. To do so is an unthinkable thing. Especially,” Taehyung falters, looking up, “for someone like my brother, who is particularly unskilled in magic.”

“Ah,” I breathe. “They would have crucified them, as an example.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung stares at his palms. “Which is why I disobeyed them.”

“The Council?” I blurt, surprised.

Taehyung looks up, helpless. “They told me to remain impartial, told me not to interfere but I – I just couldn’t. I found my brother after he killed her. He was shaking, Y/N, he was so scared. Crying… he kept saying our mom’s name.”

Heart constricting, I can no longer contain myself. I move, crossing the room to climb into his lap. Taehyung holds me, chest heaving as he wraps his arms around me. He stays like that for a while, our bodies pressed together, as though he’s scared of breaking.

Gently, Taehyung buries his face into my neck. “I took the blame,” he sounds muffled. “I told them it was me, that killed her. They were all scared of me, all feared me. Death became a part of my image, part of my charade and once it began, it couldn’t stop. Not if I wanted to protect Jaewoo. The Council didn’t visit me again, after that.”

“Until last night,” I whisper, and he nods.

“Until last night,” Taehyung agrees, his hands rising to my hair. He exhales shakily, chest rising and falling as he pulls suddenly away.

I look back, hands held loose about his waist.

“This,” he announces, holding up the token. “This is the mark of my father, the mark of my family. When the Council visited, they told me they found this at the site of the murders.” When he sees my expression, Taehyung hastens, “They thought it was me. They thought I was the one, summoning the demons.”

“But you’re not,” I respond quietly.

The corner of Taehyung’s mouth lifts. “Yes, well, I know that.”

When he says this, I smile. I push hair back from his eyes – falling quiet, as I understand the meaning behind his words. “Past tense,” I muse. “They believe now, that you’re not. Who do they suspect now, of the summoning’s?”

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer with pride. “They don’t know,” he admits.

“And you?” I ask, catching on. “Who do you think it is?”

Taehyung lapses into silence. “I don’t know,” he admits, voice wavering. “The trace was so convoluted, it changed hands so many times. I keep feeling my father – but the Council took the token with them, when they left. At least, I think so,” Taehyung frowns, suddenly unsure. “I don’t have it with me, now.”

When he looks at me, shame crosses his face. “I thought it was my brother,” Taehyung admits, voice hoarse. “I didn’t know what to think. He’s so broken, so vulnerable – I thought it was him. You saw him just now, though. When I asked for his token, he had it. I – it couldn’t have been him.”

I must still seem troubled, since Taehyung leans in. He kisses me gently, lips soft before pulling away.

“What was that,” I smile, drifting into thought. “This helps,” I respond – the nod, in affirmation. “The murderer must be connected to your family. There must be a connection to your father’s cult, somehow – did your family keep any records?”

Though Taehyung winces, he sighs. “Did my dead, abusive father keep records of all the psychopaths who pledged their allegiance to him?”

“Yeah,” I affirm. “Did he?”

Taehyung purses his lips, trying not to laugh. “Ugh,” he groans, flopping backwards. I’m still in his lap, perched awkwardly on top of his hips. “I’ll get them to you later today,” he groans, opening an eye. “I’ll get you whatever you like, darling.”

“Darling?” I winkle my nose. “No.”

Taehyung smiles, hands lazily sliding up my waist. “No?” he breathes, pushing himself up. My breath catches when Taehyung winds both hands into my hair – halting, a hair’s breadth away from my lips. “No?” he repeats, soft.

“Or,” I exhale. I move my hips, feeling his length harden. “You can me whatever you want, dark one.”

Since I was late this morning to work, I stay late in the evening. Collapsed in my cubicle, staring at the screen as I try to sort through the literally hundreds of names Taehyung sent my way. I’ve been staring at this list for hours, racking my brains trying to think of a correlation. I can’t find anything, between the names on the list and the situation I’m currently in.

It makes no sense; the mystery makes no sense and I begin to despair of ever finding the answer. I’ll start from scratch, I realize. I’ll investigate each name individually, until I find the link. There must be a relationship, must be – why else, would this token have been at the scene of the crime? There’s something standing in my way of my seeing it, preventing me from understanding. I just need to determine what that is.

If only I had the real token, I think, drumming my fingers on my counter.

My thoughts are interrupted by Julia, poking her head around the corner. “Night, Y/N,” she chirps – though upon seeing my expression, she enters the cube. “When are you leaving? You’ve been working late for weeks now, stuck on the Obsidian case.”

I exhale, tearing my gaze away from the screens. The Obsidian case, so aptly named for the dark blood. “Yeah,” I agree, blowing hair from my eyes. “I know, I just feel… so close, to solving it.”

Julia’s smile weakens, leaning against the wall. “Yeah,” she agrees. “But we’ve been close for weeks, now. Maybe you should just take a break, Y/N. Go for a walk, clear your head. Whatever the answer is, you won’t figure it out tonight.”

She’s right. I bite my lip, leaning back. “I’ll leave in a half hour,” I promise, and Julia starts to laugh.

“Okay, whatever,” she grins. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. I’m heading out,” Julia informs, hiking her purse higher as she leaves my cube. “Going to blow off some steam – Derek and I are going dancing, you should meet up with us later!”

“Maybe,” I murmur, reaching around for my phone. “What club are you going to?”

“That new one, over by the stadium!” Julia calls, voice growing fainter as she walks away. “Ooo – bring Taehyung! That’d be fun; I’d love to see Derek’s face turn a sickly shade of green.”

I laugh, as the precinct door swings shut. With Julia gone, the place is quiet. Completely silent, and after five more minutes of pretending to work – I sigh. I stand, throwing things into my bag and shoving my chair in my desk. Julia is right – it’s late and I’m tired. There’s no way I’m solving this puzzle tonight.

Taehyung has a concert but I reach for my phone anyways – blinking, when I see he’s already texted.

Taehyung: my place or yours, tn

Grinning, I swipe right to text him back.

Y/N: already desperate for more?

Taehyung: yes

Taehyung: you haven’t seen desperate, until you’ve see me on my knees. Do you want that? Want me to get on my knees and beg for you

Pressing my thighs tight together, I lean against the wall of the elevator.

Y/N: I’d like that very much

Y/N: … I’d also like to see you

Taehyung takes a bit longer to respond, and when my phone finally dings, I suck in a breath.

Taehyung: you can see me right now, if you’d like

Taehyung: [img.jpg]

When I open the photo, I groan out loud. His concert must be over, since he’s in the middle of his changing room. Black, leather pants on the ground, holding the camera strategically overhead to show his toned, firm chest. Past that I see the curve of his ass, those marvelous thighs – and his hand, strategically positioned over the rest of him.

“Fuck,” I mutter, lowering the phone when the elevator dings. I should walk home. I should take the bus, like a normal person – but looking at Taehyung’s photo has me suddenly impatient. I duck into the women’s bathroom instead, entering the last stall and exhaling deeply.

When I open my eyes, I’m in my apartment. The room is dark, silent – and Taehyung appears as well, stepping from thin air. “Couldn’t wait?” he chastises, pushing me to the wall. He kisses me hungrily, desperately – his lips descending over mine in a needy, fierce storm while I grope angrily at his back. Taehyung is wearing clothes, a fact that’s disappointing – though I work quickly, to remedy this.

Tearing at his buttons, I rip open his shirt and push this to half-hang from his frame. Taehyung growls, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth as his shirt hits the floor. Grabbing onto my hips, he slides lower and cups my ass with both hands. I whimper, with Taehyung’s knee pressed taut between my legs – until he pulls back, gently pushing my hair aside.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, kissing the length of my neck. “I know I saw you this morning, but still – I missed you.”

Nodding, I find myself unable to do more than this. Just the touch of him, just his scent has me feeling a way I’ve really only felt once before. Min Yoongi’s kitchen, his house, the warmth of friends and his family around me. Being with Taehyung feels like that, like home and it’s entirely unprecedented to me.

Taehyung pauses, then look up. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that,” he whispers.

“Tell me what,” I respond, equally soft. “Tell me you love me?”

He nods, gaze tracing my lips – then looking at me. His urgency slows somewhat, though Taehyung keeps me pressed firm to the wall. His hands trace my shirt, skin, as though reminding himself that I’m here.

“I didn’t know how else to say it. I’ve never,” Taehyung hesitates, mouth dry. “I’ve never wanted to tell someone I loved them, before.”

“Never?” I ask, eyes wide. “Not your friends, not even your brother?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Jaewoo knows that I love him. He knows this, and is just as uncomfortable with hearing it, as I am saying it. Aside from him, I don’t know there’s been anyone else. I’ve,” Taehyung looks down, hair falling into his eyes, “never had someone who made me feel, like you. With you, I feel everything. Ah – I wish someone had explained that before. That love is pain.”

“Pain?” I repeat, then falter. “I don’t – I didn’t…”

“Not in a bad way,” Taehyung insists, capturing my hands. “It’s just that, loving you has opened up a dam. It’s made me feel and so, I feel the world.” When he looks at me, his gaze burns. He looks beatific, transcendent in a way that makes me lose my words. “Have you ever read C.S. Lewis?”

“The theologian?” I nod, arching a brow. “I have, although he’s Christian – right? I wouldn’t have thought his books popular with the dark.”

Taehyung fights back his smile. “They aren’t. I read him anyways, since I loved them. I reread the Voyage of the Dawn Treader – oh, it must have been a hundred times, since I imagined myself as Eustace. A horrible, rotten creature offered a chance at redemption.” Taehyung flushes, as though afraid he’s said too much. “I loved that book, though I can’t help but think of another part now. It’s the seventh book, which keeps returning to me.”

“Oh?” I lift my hand to his face, caressing his cheek and feeling the shape of him, beneath my fingers. “Which part is that?”

Moving closer, Taehyung catches hold of my wrists. He slides them overhead, pinning me beneath him. “There’s this idea of worlds within worlds,” Taehyung explains, slow. “The old Narnia dies and characters walk through this door, symbolizing their death. On the other side lies a new Narnia. This Narnia even more brilliant, more perfect than the last. It turns out the Narnia they thought was true, the Narnia they thought was real – was merely a shadow. They go up another hill,” Taehyung continues, bending his lips to mine, “and they find another door. Beyond this lies another Narnia – this one, even better and wilder than the last.”

I know the scene he describes. I know it well, since it’s one of my favorites. It shaped my childhood and when I open my eyes to look at him – I can’t think anything to say. He’s said it all.

“You’re a new world to me,” Taehyung explains quietly. “I thought I was alive. I thought I understood myself – but you’ve opened a door, one I couldn’t even see. I was living as a shadow,” he continues, dropping to a whisper. “I was a shadow, a feeble imitation of the man I could be. You’ve shown me this, given me myself and for that – I am in love with you.”

Taehyung breaks, the words splintering while he waits for me to respond. He stands and looks, baring his soul – and I realize then, what’s changed. This entire time he’s been speaking, the entire time he’s been explaining, there have been no shields between us.

None. Taehyung stands here, completely open when he asks me to see him. I reach out, tremblingly brushing his thoughts with mine and I see him. I see all of him – each awful, horrible thing he’s ever said, or done. Each tear that he’s shed, killing his soul bit by bit. I see the sorrow, the pain and anger – dark, horrible anger, which pulses aside. I see light, as well as dark. I see goodness ingrained in him, even more brilliant than my own.

Not even Yoongi shows himself to me, like this. I take a quick, shuddering breath and close my eyes, tentatively opening my mind. I feel him there. I feel Taehyung as certain as his body is pressed to mine. His soul reaches for me, rushing out to greet his own. It’s one thing, to say you belong to someone. It’s another, to give yourself entirely. I give myself Taehyung, even the parts I hate and find that he loves each one, in turn.

When I open my eyes, my vision is blurred – and Taehyung stares back, wondrous. “You love me?” he repeats, vocalizing my thoughts.

“I love you,” I agree.

When his lips find mine, it’s searing. The kiss burns into my soul, bares my heart and leaves our bodies branded in its wake. His lips are soft yet purposeful, tentative and insistent. When he lifts my hands overhead, he presses me tight to the wall. His body curves over mine, every inch of him hot as his lips trail my neck.

“I’ve never wanted,” he murmurs, swallowing past the words, “anyone so much. I can’t get enough of you, crave everything about you. I daydream,” he whispers, hiking me so my legs wrap around him, “about what I want to do with you. Romantic things,” he bunches up his nose, pressed to my throat, “and other things, too.”

A giggle escapes – hitching, when he tilts his pelvis dangerously. “What kinds of things?”

Taehyung’s eyes open, starry. “The usual,” he muses. “I’d like to take you shopping. I’d like to hold your bag while you try on clothes – and then I’d like to lock you in the changing room and fuck your mouth until your mascara smears.” His lips curve; wicked and brilliant. “I’d like to take you on a double date – then drag my fingers up the inside of your thigh, sliding them slowly into your soaked pussy.”

I exhale, head hitting the wall when Taehyung lets go with one hand. He inches my shirt higher – before giving up to remove this entirely. His chest finds mine, wrapping my legs tightly – almost painful, with his tenacity. It’s not enough though – I wonder if this will ever be enough – and I drag fingers down his back, hitching Taehyung’s breath in his throat.

His hands grip my thighs, bracing against the wall as he unbuttons my pants. Taehyung hastily strips me, catching my ear between his teeth to whisper, “I’d like to lay you out on the bed and eat you out until you scream,” as I nod.

“Please,” I moan, half-broken with want. “Please, I need you inside me.”

Taehyung obeys, quickly unzipping his pants. I help, pushing them down – and inhaling sharply, when his dick hits my core. He teases, gently pushing inside while his hands re-grip my ass. He lowers me onto him, inch by inch as I struggle to breathe. When he’s done, when he’s finally filled me – Taehyung leans forward, to slowly brush his lips with mine.

I move my hips, lowering as he whimpers my name. “Ah,” Taehyung groans, opening my mouth with his. He thrusts upward, pinning me against the wall. “Fuck, Y/N. You – you,” he stops, biting down on my neck. “I love you.”

I inhale, pushing my hips lower – and Taehyung quickly takes over. His arm finds the wall, bracing as he thrusts into me. Muscles flexing, hands cupping my ass tighter when I open my eyes.

Taehyung moves closer, sliding a hand into my hair. “I want more,” he whispers and before I can object, we’re in my bedroom. Taehyung drops me onto my bed, ignoring my whimper when he falls from my body. He kicks his pants aside, finally naked when he joins me.

Taehyung drops, pinning me in place before dragging his tongue up my sex. He doesn’t stop there, holding me hostage while his tongue flicks gently against my clit. He moves slow, glancing up every now and again to see my reaction. When Taehyung inserts a finger, curling gently – I hiss out loud.

“Taehyung,” I gasp, grabbing his hair. I need him to feel my pain, to feel my pleasure – and Taehyung looks up, returning to my clit. He gives a gentle kiss, playing with my clit before sucking again.

“Yes?” he murmurs, lifting himself up. He positions his cock between my legs, forcing me to feel how hard he is. “So pretty and swollen,” he inhales, lowering a hand between my legs – teasing me with his thumb, as I arch against him. “You’re always so ready for me, aren’t you?”

I swallow and nod, reaching. I run a hand up his shaft, feeling the precum leaking out. Brushing a finger over the edge, I gently bring this to my lips. Taehyung stares, gaze dark while I wrap my lips around a finger. Sucking his cum, arching a brow.

“Fuck,” he exhales, lowering his body – just one elbow, on either side. “Why,” he moves his dick to my center. “Are,” he pushes inside, spreading my legs. “You,” he stops, chest rising and falling, “so perfect?”

I exhale, needing him deeper. “Tae,” I whimper, “Please, move.”

Taehyung exhales, pulling out. When he enters again, I gasp – the movement is sharp, almost painful slamming into me. “Like that?” he murmurs, sitting back on his heels. Taehyung grabs my hips, pulling me down on his dick.

Taehyung switches my legs to rest on his shoulders, leaning down to enter me again. It’s so tight like this, I whimper. My legs pressed together, clit throbbing, nipples hardened as he spreads my legs to look at me.

“Ah,” Taehyung murmurs, watching his cock disappear inside my body. “You look so pretty like this – spread out and helpless for me. You would do anything,” he bends, hitting a deeper angle, “for my dick – wouldn’t you, darling?”

I nod, no longer caring about the nickname. “Yes,” I grab hold of his arms. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“You would, wouldn’t you,” Taehyung murmurs, fucking me harder. “What if I wanted to cum on your ass? Would you let me make a mess of you, just to see you flushed and pretty?”

“Oh,” I moan, imagining – his hot cum, dripping down my skin and I arch my hips upwards. “Fuck, yes. I’d like that very much.”

“Mm, I knew you would,” Taehyung smirks, leaning forward. “What if,” he whispers, “I wanted to cum inside? What if I wanted to fill you up, mark you as mine?”

I’m so close to coming – Taehyung must sense this, because he slows down. No longer rough and urgent, but gentle. His eyes glint sliding in and out of me, a new kind of torture.

“Yes,” I whisper, finding his gaze. “I’d like that, too.”

Taehyung gives in, moving faster. “Then show me,” he murmurs, biting my lip. “Clench around me, make me feel how bad you want this.”

I obey – relishing his intake of breath, the way that his arm slips, when Taehyung briefly loses control. “Babe,” he cracks, devouring my lips with his own. His kisses are wet, hot, messy while fucking me harder.

My arms are dragged overhead, held in place as his other descends my body. Taehyung pinches a nipple, sliding down to my waist – smacking me, sharp on my ass. Taehyung grabs my leg, pulling me upwards and fucking me harder. Rougher. He pounds me into the bed, losing himself entirely – and I surrender myself completely.

I stop thinking and let him have me – I’m already his, I belong to him. I’m Taehyung’s, and he is mine. I know this as I splinter apart around him. It’s Taehyung, holding me together. Taehyung, responding in kind. He comes as well, gripping my skin tightly, afraid he’ll fall apart. When he buries his head into my shoulder, there’s a faint glow upon his skin.

Taehyung exhales, coming down while his hips slow. His hands drift lower, tracing my back as he softly withdraws. After cleaning himself, he settles down beside me. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling me into him. His lips brush my brow, chasing away doubt and fear.

I relax, closing my eyes. When my hands wander, curving over his limbs, Taehyung smiles sleepily in the dark. “What?” I murmur, pressing closer.

“You love me,” he reaffirms, and I nod.

“I do,” I whisper, and we both drift into sleep.

In the morning, Taehyung is the first to wake. I feel him leave the bed, hear his feet pad on the floor but burrow deeper into my covers. It’s Saturday, meaning I don’t have to work – it’s one of those rare days I can sleep. Taehyung’s schedule isn’t as lucky as mine. Then again, he’s a pop star. His schedule is whatever he wants it to be,

The sounds of a shower drift back to me, curling gently in my bed. I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know Taehyung is waking me up. He kneels gently on my covers, touching his lips to my forehead. “Y/N,” he whispers, waiting. “Y/N.”

Opening an eye, I pout. “It’s still early,” I complain, voice rough with sleep.

A smile lifts his lips. “It’s not so early – depends on how you look at it.”

“Is it before 9:00 AM?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s early.”

Taehyung laughs, poking me when my eyes fall shut. “I need to go,” he informs, when I open both eyes.

“No,” I protest, struggling up. “You don’t. I’ll… curse you, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s lips press tight, as though he’s struggling not to laugh. “What kind of curse?”

“Every time you sing a note higher than C, you’ll get a boner,” I grumble, while Taehyung arches a brow.

“That could be interesting,” he grins, before faltering. “You know, we haven’t talked about what happens now. This concert series has been amazing, but I’m going to have to leave eventually. I extended the tour once, but not again. I’m a singer, Y/N. I work on the road.”

“Ah,” I exhale, wrapping my sheet tighter. “I didn’t think about that. I suppose it’s lucky then, that you happen to be a famous warlock who can appear in my bed whenever he wants.”

Some of Taehyung’s tension disappears, as he smiles. “True,” he agrees, though his expression quickly fades. “Are we doing the right thing?”

I freeze – if I wasn’t awake before, I am now. “I – what do you mean?” I whisper, nerves coiling.

His gaze is haunted, staring back. “The prophecy,” he reminds me. “What if I’m wrong about all this? What if I only think I can change, think I can be better – and end up ruining us in the end? What if Yoongi was right,” he exhales, looking down the hall.

Regaining my bearings, I shift closer. “Hey,” I murmur, finding his hands. Taehyung looks at our fingers, doesn’t respond. “The thing about fate,” I sigh. “Is that you can’t change it. What will be, will be – and all you can do, is try to do what’s right. Do you feel this is right, Taehyung?”

Taehyung exhales. “I’ve never been more certain.”

He says this quietly, as though there’s still something on his mind. Rather than push him on this, I lean in for a kiss. “Hurry back,” I ask, and he nods, lifting himself from the bed.

Taehyung smiles at me over his shoulder, then disappears. I’m left staring at empty space, until I lower myself back on the bed. I manage to fall asleep, at least until the light is too bright and I tumble from bed to begin the day. Time passes quickly, shadows lengthening as I spend a lazy day inside.

Yoongi texts, wanting to hang out and I agree. I haven’t seen him since he asked out Jo and I’m dying for news. “Tell me everything,” I blurt as soon I open the door. “Tell me every word, every hand gesture. Leave nothing out– did you kiss? No, wait – did she kiss you? Dammit, Yoongi – your facial expressions are so immobile,” I sigh, while Yoongi shuts the door behind me.

“Oh my god,” he groans, rubbing his temples. “You’re so loud.”

“Deal with it,” I grin, flopping down on my sofa. “Now, sit and tell me everything.”

Waving a hand, Yoongi conjures a beer while sliding into the chair. “It was nice,” he mumbles, thumb playing at the edge of his wrapper. “We, uh – talked.”

“You KISSED!” I shriek, clapping my hands.

Yoongi winces, sinking even lower. “I’m not the kind to kiss and tell…”

“But you’ll make an exception for me?” I grin, flipping through the channels. I find a movie I know Yoongi likes, pulling my knees into my chest. “Pretty please?”

Staring at the screen, a slow smile spreads over Yoongi’s face. “It was nice,” he mutters.

“Wow, a rave review,” I whisper, awed. “The last time Min Yoongi said the word nice was – no, wait. Yoongi has never said the word nice.”

When a pillow is thrown at my head, I neatly dodge this. I let him be silent after that, letting Yoongi watch the movie – though every now and then, I can’t help but laugh. When I get up to make popcorn, when I cross the room from the bathroom, when I –

Someone knocks, impatiently on my door.

I pause, turning to look down the hall. From behind, I hear Yoongi turn the volume down. “Did you order pizza, or something?” he asks, quizzical.

Still staring, I shake my head no. Yoongi stands, setting the remote aside as I walk forward, reaching the threshold and pausing. I hear nothing. There’s no breathing, no shuffling of feet and after a long moment, I think maybe I was mistaken. Perhaps it was just the apartment across the hall, but –

“Let me in, assholes! It’s cold outside, and my complexion doesn’t do well under duress.”

Wrinkling my nose, I step back to stare at the wood. “Seokjin?” I ask, confused.

“Who were you expecting – Santa Claus?”

Rolling my eyes, I reach for the handle – unsurprised to find Seokjin, leaning against the frame. He looks past me, offering a smile. “Hello, gorgeous,” Seokjin declares. His gaze then slides from the mirror to Yoongi. “Hello, to you too, beautiful.”

Yoongi stares back at him, impassive. “Right,” he takes a swig of beer, and sits back down on the couch. “This seems as though it doesn’t concern me.”

Stepping forward, I block Seokjin from entering the room. “Why are you here?” I demand, crossing my arms. I don’t trust him – and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t trust me.

Seokjin smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I have information,” he announces, rather stiff. “May I come in?”

I don’t move. “Why should I believe you?” I demand, unable to forget the last thing he said. He knew, the entire time we were in his shop – knew I was with Taehyung and yet, he said nothing. Seokjin deals with secrets, barters information and I don’t like the idea of him showing up here. Nothing is free with these kinds of people – nothing.

As though reading my mind, Seokjin’s lip curls – and Yoongi appears, at my side. “Let him in,” my best friend sighs, resigned.

“What?” I turn. “Why would I?”

“Because I invited him,” Yoongi grumbles, wandering away. “Let him in.”

Though my mouth drops, I step aside. Seokjin enters, smiling before closing door. “So,” he coughs, rubbing his hands together. Both gloves and hat disappear, folding themselves neatly over my counter – his scarlet pea coat quickly following. “Can we cut to the chase, then?”

Yoongi waves a hand, from the couch. “Tell us what you know, warlock,” he deamdns, and I shoot him an incensed look. “Look,” Yoongi sighs. “You told me to visit Seokjin – I did. You wanted me to find out if he knew anything, and he didn’t. When I asked if he’d tell me when he did, Seokjin laughed. He said he would.”

Gaze darting from Yoongi to Seokjin, I find him currently winkling his nose at my placemats. “He just… agreed to help.” I repeat, dubious. “Under no conditions, no caveat – Seokjin wants to help, from the goodness of his – I’m sorry,” I interrupt, waiting until Seokjin looks my way. “What do you call the black hole, where your heart used to be?”

Seokjin purses his lips, snorting. “I’m remarkably charitable, Y/N – for a price. Your Yoongi,” he nods, arching a brow, “offered a favor, in return for my help.”

When I look at Yoongi, outraged – he shrugs. “Let me help, Y/N,” he responds.

“Yes,” Seokjin interrupts, watching us both. He laces both hands carefully behind his back. “I’d let him help, Y/N – since I’ve found something intriguing, that I think could help.”

“Oh?” I marvel. “What did you find, warlock? Another jewelry box? A mysterious riddle, which will take us ages to solve? I don’t trust you,” I mutter, eyes dark. “And I have good reason.”

Seokjin just stares, before pulling an object from his pocket. “I have this,” he announces, holding out the token.

I stiffen. The room falls silent, or maybe just I do, since my gaze is locked on his hand. The token is black, smooth – it’s crest identical to the one Taehyung showed me earlier. Taking a half-step forward, I’m barely aware of what I’m doing. “Is that –?” my gaze moves to Seokjin, who nods.

Yoongi wanders over. He stares as well, features cast in doubt. “What is it?” he interrupts. “And why is Y/N looking at it like she’s seen a ghost?”

Seokjin doesn’t respond to this, merely arching a brow.

“It’s a symbol,” I inform Yoongi, unable to look away. “The crest of Taehyung’s father, a powerful warlock. I don’t understand, though,” I shake my head. “You told Yoongi you’d get him information on the summonings. How,” I start – then stop, not wanting to reveal what I know.

Seokjin and I stare at one another, caught in a silent face-off as Yoongi continues to observe the token.

A frown creases his brow. “Taehyung’s father – that’s his symbol?”

“Yes,” Seokjin breathes, shaking the object. “The symbol of their family, the Kim family crest. It was also,” he explains, “the only piece of evidence, found at the scene of the crime.”

I inhale. “Then,” I blurt, “this is that token? The one found at the site of the summoning?”

Seokjin nods, gaze impassive. “Don’t ask how I got it,” he warns. “That would get my uh, confidante into trouble.”

When he winks at me, I ignore him. This is it. This is the missing link, that extra piece of evidence. Taehyung couldn’t feel the trace, since he couldn’t separate the token from his father. I’ve never met him though, so the object should be uncluttered for me. I stare at the thing in Seokjin’s hand, uncertain if this will work or not.

It didn’t before, when I first attempted to trace the spell in the alley. My heart pounds though, unreasonably loud – for some reason, my skin is itching. Crying out for contact with the object. Yoongi looks at me, then Seokjin – who stares, dropping the token into my palm.

The second my skin makes contact, I gasp. I stumble back, hand reaching for the wall – as nausea and déjà vu churn my stoamch. When I open my eyes, I’m lost. My breath is heavy, weak with realization – and I whirl, searching for Yoongi. “Taehyung,” I whisper, voice dark with horror. “I have to warn him,” I gasp, before disappearing entirely.

[Master List]

Author’s Note: SORRY ABOUT THE CLIFFHANGER! It’s my way, I hope you know this. Currently working on Part VIII. I hope you enjoy - I’ll be doing another edit tomorrow morning, so apologies for any errors. <3

#noonanet #kwriterskollection #kpoptrashtag #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fantasy #taehyung au #taehyung series #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fantasy #bts au #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts v

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Unknown Facts About 'Endings, Beginnings' Review - Tiff 2019 - Hollywood Reporter

Table of ContentsNot known Details About 'Endings, Beginnings' Review – Variety Our Endings, Beginnings (2019) - Imdb StatementsThe Endings Beginnings Review: Drake Doremus Returns With ... IdeasEndings, Beginnings (2019) - Imdb Fundamentals ExplainedThe smart Trick of Review: 'Endings, Beginnings' Doesn't Know What To Do With Its ... That Nobody is Discussing

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In a great deal of ways, Endings, Beginnings is an ideal movie to enjoy throughout quarantine since it squashed whatever require I needed to search for some way to date, but likewise, it's a stunning story and hits those psychological notes that make Drake Doremus's work so cathartic. Endings, Beginnings hits on digital on April 17, 2020 and as needed May 1, 2020.

Endings, Beginnings movie review (2020 ...

There's a caution in twelve-step programs advising those brand-new to the course of recovery from avoiding of relationships for one year. While not the most welcome piece of guidance, numerous will inform you not to overlook or dismiss it so readily. In Jardine Libaire and Drake Doremus's, Shailene Woolley plays Daphne, a lady who discovered her way out of a bad relationship and a moderate case of alcohol dependence.

During among her women's art "treatment" group, she declares to her friend/sponsor(?) Ingrid (Kyra Sedgwick), who recommends she's swearing off relationships for a minimum of six months. Admittedly, she exposes she has self-hatred (endings, beginnings movie). She uses relationships as security and self-confidence. The story is nearly a way to reveal the self-destructive patterns we fall into that slowly ruins us over and over once again as she dives into 2 relationships with friends, Jack (Jamie Dornan) and Frank (Sebastian Stan).

Point of view is everything, often. When I check out a description of the beginning of the brand-new movie Endings, Starts, from director/co-writer Drake Doremus (Like Crazy), it stated something about the L.A.-based protagonist Daphne (Shailene Woodley) "reeling from a bad current break-up." endings beginnings full movie watch than that when I in fact sat down to view the film, it's Daphne who not just prompts the separation but does so with a person whom she totally admits was probably "the one." But due to the fact that she's an agitated spirit, afraid of getting stuck in a foreseeable adult rut (she's indicated to be in her early 30s, in case you were questioning) with this male, she not just left him behind but her whole life, too.

An Unbiased View of 'Endings, Beginnings': Review - Reviews - Screen

Image thanks to Samuel Goldwyn Before we actually understand the more in-depth reasons for her leaving, she's looking for a new task in the "art world" and having no luck, in part since of her abrupt departure from her previous, extremely stable task. And I'm thinking that a lot of those enjoying Daphne and her circumstance are going to have a really hard time feeling any kind of compassion for her scenario, or see anything that happens to her next be anything more than an extension in her series of bad life decisions.

The newer problems begin when she goes to a party where she fulfills 2 menthe writer Jack (Jamie Dornan, badly tamed since his 50 Shades of Gray days) and Frank (Sebastian Stan, the Winter Soldier in a variety of Marvel films), whose profession is a little fuzzier and ultimately inconsequential - movie called endings beginnings.

Endings, Beginnings movie review (2020 ...

She claims she does not wish to end up being a wedge in between them, so she settles down a bit with Jack, and Frank seems alright with that for a timeuntil Jack heads out of town for work, leaving the perpetually narcissistic Daphne with no option but to run off to Big Sur with his pal.

Buried deep in all of this relationship muck are discussions Daphne has with different individuals about finding herself and opening parts of her life that were formerly bolted shut, I guess? However it's all such unclear rubbish right out of a hipster love novel that it becomes frustratingit's clear that everything about this motion picture would be a lot simpler to deal with if every character in it wasn't an asshole (endings beginnings movie cast).

All About 'Endings, Beginnings': Review - Reviews - Screen

Bu the heart desires what it desires, obviously, and what it wants is 2 men (endings beginnings movie 2020). The third-act discovery should come as not a surprise to those who understand how films about reinventing yourself often turn out. Not to point out that the whole movie is generally a countdown clock to Jack learning that Daphne is often cheating on him.

However it is impressive that a person individual can make a lot of dumb choices in such a brief time period. The movie's messages about turning into the individual you were fated to end up being evaporate as quickly as you try to grasp them, make Endings, Starts even more aggravating. I like a lot of these actors (which is the only reason I endured the whole movie), and none humiliate themselves as far as efficiencies go.

The movie is now offered on the majority of streaming platforms now, and will be launched On Demand on May 1. Did you enjoy this post? Please consider supporting Third Coast Evaluation's arts and culture coverage by.

When Daphne (Shailene Woodley) breaks up with her partner, stops her job, and takes control of her sister's swimming pool home, she chooses to follow her good friends' suggestions and go six months without men or alcohol. "6 solo months," she announces, "simply me and my vibrator." Her resolution lasts possibly a week; within a month or so, she has not one but 2 lovely guys craving her.

The Main Principles Of Endings, Beginnings - Wikipedia

It's a magnificent snoozy affair, in which we find that Doremus's cinematic design intimate, personal, and improvisation has not a lot solidified as cauterized (movie called endings beginnings). He's still capable of striking moments (he skillfully uses flashes of visual info to signal memory), and the loose, off-the-cuff style of his shoots develops dialogues scenes that are convincingly conversational.

They Satisfy Adorable at a celebration when he bums a smoke, provides her among Those Aesthetics, and purrs, "Who are you hiding from, because gown?" Soon he's texting her Spotify playlists and little jokes, and they're having a lot of sex, however oh no he does drugs, he's a bad kid who slurs his words.

She questions if, instead of satisfying the best partner, "What if you satisfied 2 various people who offer you two sides of it?" Wow, deep. The problem with "Endings, Starts" is that Doremus never troubles to offer us a compelling factor to appreciate a single one of these individuals, aside from the reality that film stars are playing them.

He ends up with something like a self-parody of the Earnest Festival Indie Drama. Because his "Like Crazy" won the Grand Jury Reward at Sundance back in 2011, Doremus has drawn in a relatively singing contingent of critics, who have accused that and subsequent efforts like "Take in" and "Equals" of being shallow, drooping, navel-gazing nothings.

Getting My 'Endings, Beginnings' Review - Tiff 2019 - Hollywood Reporter To Work

I will forever safeguard filmmaker Drake Doremus's, which caught Anton Yelchin, Felicity Jones, and Jennifer Lawrence at just the correct time in the upward swing of their careers. As 2 university student whose whirlwind relationship is complicated by an overstayed visa, years invested living apart, and romantic indiscretions on both sides, Yelchin and Jones are raw and terrific, and the film's last agitation brings to mind those last couple of minutes of the traditional The Graduate.

#endings beginnings movie online #endings beginnings movie trailer #endings beginnings movie spoiler

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kkatot · 5 years

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My speculative-fiction-based provocation for the AoIR 2019 “fuck the system” roundtable

I did a talk in a panel re: the Tumblr NSFW ban (which I’ll post later) and participated in this roundtable at my most beloved conference - AoIR2019 this year. Both were fun and led to amazing conversations, but “Fuck the System” was particularly awesome, because it was incredibly well attended, and included so many interesting comments and contributions not just from the speakers, but also from the audience (the pic is about half of the room doing their version of ‘fuck the system’).

My amazing colleague and co-author Emily van der Nagel created a great twitter thread from the round table, which the Thread Reader App unrolled for everyone’s reading pleasure. Anyway, here is my provocation.

Like many of us, I was very frustrated with Tumblr’s choices in December of 2018. So I thought that it might be worth engaging in some speculative fiction thinking on what social media would be like if it did not try to deplatform sex every time someone pointed out a platform has a nazi problem. Because it really seems kind of Pavlovian by now – we say: “hey, uh … you have these people advocating for hatred or genocide.” And they say: “titties, titties, omg I saw nipples, THINK OF THE CHILDREN!” It’s kind of the inverse of that old movie Wag the Dog. Instead of faking a war to cover up a sex scandal, social media platforms seem to be faking a sex scandal every time they need to cover up how their platforms are used for disseminating hate.

Speculative fiction builds on approaches like socio literary techniques, speculative design, design fiction, creative prototyping, speculative science fictions etc. (i.e. Future oriented methods of Donna Haraway and Bruno Latour. Speculative science fiction (Annette Markham and Kseniia Kalugina, 2017) Design fiction and creative prototyping techniques (Burnam Fink 2015) ‘socio-literary techniques’ (Bennett & Clark Miller, 2008)). These are methods for harnessing socio-literary imagination, and they sometimes work with prompts developed from existing knowledge and literature. I too came up with prompts: First I asked some of my Facebook friends to fill out a Facebook profile for someone who would post sexually explicit content on Facebook Second, I asked some of my friends, who are at least hobby level creative writers, to imagine that all sexual content has been banned everywhere on the internet for 10 years, and then to write me a short vignette from the perspective of a content moderation AI, a sexdoll, a priest, etc, there was a whole list

Based on this, I want to briefly go through the imaginaries about Facebook with sex, the whole internet without sex, and Tumblr with and without sex, and see where we end up, provocation wise.

Let’s start with the Facebook profiles. It seemed that people thought that it would be either:

young, kind of ditsy, not very career-oriented women, who are into nightlife, witchcraft, Charli XCX and 24-hour champagne diet”

completely nondescript successful men

or these incel-y young men, who have 73 Reddit profiles and post 4 different kinds of anti feminist quotes who would post sexual content on Facebook.

That was very brief, but let’s move to the narratives.

I had a story from the POV of a priest, a 50 year old woman, a 50 year old man, and a sex doll in a post internet sex ban world. Here’s what I picked out from these:

The priest story communicated...

... certain relief to be able to live in the world where a celebrity boob selfie is not going to commandeer attention.

... worry that life without flirting on Facebook would be sad - and the presumption that not being able to post sexual content on the internet also means no flirting is interesting here

... Finally, this story ended with a question: “But is a cat sad to be castrated?” – which tells us that an internet with no sexual content equals castration.

The 50 year old woman POV story painted a very evocative picture of going in circles and how rhetorical leaps are made by those governing our internet. I think my favorite part of this story was how the author linked declaring young women’s exposed bodies on social media explicit content with the feeling she had when she was “young, and full of uncomfortableness with your own body” until she gathered up her guts to take off her bikini and swim naked and laugh

The 50 year old man POV story, I think, was perhaps the most surprising for me. In it the protagonist tells a story of how he remembers masturbating furiously all night before the ban went into effect, and how hard it was for him to get off or get or keep an erection for months after the ban. But then spring came, women wore yoga pants, so all he needed to do now was to sit on his window, stare and masturbate. During summers he went to the beach, and during winters he just had to recollect a mental image from the summer. So basically the porn ban made him a raging peeping tom.

Finally the sex doll POV story told a tale of a male owner, who used scream at her and pull her hair, but since the ban of sexual content on the internet, he has been getting calmer and gentler. Just rubbing his finger over her nipples makes him sigh happily. He has named the doll Helena and likes sleeping with it. “I think he loves me” the story ends.

Ok, so let’s now look at Tumblr CEOs blog post about the NSFW ban. He says, multiple times, that they have thought really super very hard about it and Tumblr with sex is:

not positive

does not have deep sense of community

does not feel like a safe space for creative expression and self-discovery

and makes it impossible for Tumblr to fulfill their “promise and place in the culture”, to “grow” and “evolve”, to “have an impact on the world”, and to create a place where more people want to express themselves.

It is unclear what these big promises are that Tumblr feels it has made to “the culture” or what impact it is planning to have on the world.

The updated community guidelines, however, assure us, that throwing sex out of the window “negates the need for Safe Mode.” When there was porn you could at least opt out of seeing it, but everyone must see the hateful content that remains on the platform.

So putting all of this together, and trying to imagine social media WITH sex, we get this bizarre, but not entirely useless picture, which I hope can be used to start more conversations or ask consequent research questions.

Sex on social media, according to this speculative fiction exercise, is:

like being able to swim naked and laugh

like being led around by your dick - uncomfortable, but you’d rather keep it than be castrated

keeps men from stalking and peeping on women on the streets

but also trains men to be really aggressive and rough at sex

allows young women to get attention, and they like it

men just like it

young incel men weaponize it

but it makes tumblr feel really unsafe and doesn’t allow it to fulfill their huge promise towards the future of Culture.

#AoIR2019 #speculative fiction #socio literary methods #speculative methods #roundtable #deplatforming of sex

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dfroza · 5 years

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the purest gold of life on earth

is (already inside) the heart as a seed of the Spirit in being first chosen to be in Love as a child of Light.

A seed of grace that silently and patiently waits to be discovered, to be sought out in the spiritual truth of rebirth in the Light (in the True illumination) of the Son.

and the Voice of Love is heard as a mirroring of Heaven here on earth spoken through us who have clearly chosen to “believe…”

and the seed of the Scriptures being written down illuminates this, to conserve the True nature of discovering the place of “Home”

(inside, Anew)

and truly, the beginning of real wisdom is the fear of God.

A point made in Today’s chapter 8 of Ecclesiastes that begins its first verse as this:

There’s nothing better than being wise,

Knowing how to interpret the meaning of life.

Wisdom puts light in the eyes,

And gives gentleness to words and manners.

(The Message)

and interpreting the meaning (the definition) of eternal life begins with grace, in pure & simply trusting in Love and its sacred truth.

from Today’s reading in the ancient Letter of Romans as Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments with Ecclesiastes 8:

God’s way of putting people right shows up in the acts of faith, confirming what Scripture has said all along: “The person in right standing before God by trusting him really lives.”

[Ignoring God Leads to a Downward Spiral]

But God’s angry displeasure erupts as acts of human mistrust and wrongdoing and lying accumulate, as people try to put a shroud over truth. But the basic reality of God is plain enough. Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can’t see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 1:17-20 (The Message)

and the magnificence of True nature here on earth leaves us in awe, to spark a sense of wonder in the amazement of it all. truly designed to inspire us to believe in and respectfully fear our Creator who is Love in pure truth.

‪@MarkTamayokTVU liked by @YoseConservancy: Another fantastic pic from Ellen. Yosemite Falls flowing with some force this week #reflections @YoseConservancy‬

5.9.19 • 3:36pm • Twitter

as God is Trinity in Father, Spirit and Son, yet simultaneously absolutely “One” who originally made the genesis seed of male and female to be joined Together as “One” here on earth. for sexually, as designed by Love, we’re not supposed to engage our bodies with someone of the same sex. this is spiritual truth, not drafted by man but by the Spirit of God our Creator who made the grandeur of the heavens and the universal garden of Mother earth.

something that is also written about in the ancient Letter conserved in the Scriptures as the first chapter of Romans:

Paul, a servant of Jesus the Anointed called by God to be His emissary and appointed to tell the good news of the things promised long ago by God, spoken by prophets, and recorded in the Holy Scriptures. All of this good news is about His Son: who was (from a human perspective) born of David’s royal line and ultimately designated to be the true Son of God with power upon His resurrection from the dead by the Spirit of holiness. I am speaking of Jesus, the Anointed One, our Lord.

And here’s what He’s done: He has graced us and sanctioned us as His emissaries whose mission is to spread the one true and obedient faith to all people in the name of Jesus. This includes you: you have been called by Jesus, God’s Anointed.

To all those who are God’s beloved saints in Rome:

May grace and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, surround you.

First, I thank my God through Jesus the Anointed for all of you because we are joined by faith as family, and your faith is spreading across the world. For I call God as my witness—whom I worship in my spirit and serve in making known the gospel—He alone knows how often I mention you in my prayers. I find myself constantly praying for you and hoping it’s in God’s will for me to be with you soon. I desperately want to see you so that I can share some gift of the Spirit to strengthen you. Plus I know that when we come together something beautiful will happen as we are encouraged by each other’s faith.

If, my brothers and sisters, you did not already know, my plans were set to meet you in Rome, but time and circumstances have forced every trip to be canceled until now. I have deeply desired to see some good fruit among you just as I have seen with so many non-Jewish believers. You see, I am in tremendous debt to those of various nationalities, from non-Jews to barbarians, from the wisest of the wise to the idle wanderer. So you can imagine how eager I am to join you and to teach the good news in the mighty and diverse city of Rome.

For I am not the least bit embarrassed about the gospel. I won’t shy away from it, because it is God’s power to save every person who believes: first the Jew, and then the non-Jew. You see, in the good news, God’s restorative justice is revealed. And as we will see, it begins with and ends in faith. As the Scripture declares, “By faith the just will obtain life.”

For the wrath of God is breaking through from heaven, opposing all manifestations of ungodliness and wickedness by the people who do wrong to keep God’s truth in check. These people are not ignorant about what can be known of God, because He has shown it to them with great clarity. From the beginning, creation in its magnificence enlightens us to His nature. Creation itself makes His undying power and divine identity clear, even though they are invisible; and it voids the excuses and ignorant claims of these people because, despite the fact that they knew the one true God, they have failed to show the love, honor, and appreciation due to the One who created them! Instead, their lives are consumed by vain thoughts that poison their foolish hearts. They claim to be wise; but they have been exposed as fools, frauds, and con artists—only a fool would trade the splendor and beauty of the immortal God to worship images of the common man or woman, bird or reptile, or the next beast that tromps along.

So God gave them just what their lustful hearts desired. As a result, they violated their bodies and invited shame into their lives. How? By choosing a foolish lie over God’s truth. They gave their lives and devotion to the creature rather than to the Creator Himself, who is blessed forever and ever. Amen. This is why God released them to their own vile pursuits, and this is what happened: they chose sexual counterfeits—women had sexual relations with other women and men committed unnatural, shameful acts because they burned with lust for other men. This sin was rife, and they suffered painful consequences.

Since they had no mind to recognize God, He turned them loose to follow the unseemly designs of their depraved minds and to do things that should not be done. Their days are filled with all sorts of godless living, wicked schemes, greed, hatred, endless desire for more, murder, violence, deceit, and spitefulness. And, as if that were not enough, they are gossiping, slanderous, God-hating, rude, egotistical, smug people who are always coming up with even more dreadful ways to treat one another. They don’t listen to their parents; they lack understanding and character. They are simple-minded, covenant-breaking, heartless, and unmerciful; they are not to be trusted. Despite the fact that they are fully aware that God’s law says this way of life deserves death, they fail to stop. And worse—they applaud others on this destructive path.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

my reading of the Scriptures for may 10, day 52 of Spring and day 130 of the year:

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everydaynuggets-blog · 5 years

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A Good General Must Be Aware of the Long-Term and Short-Term Plans of the Enemy

Lest Satan should get an advantage of us: for WE ARE NOT IGNORANT of his devices.

2 Corinthians 2:11

There are many attacks of the enemy on the church of God. Unknown to most of us, there is a sinister long-term element to many of these attacks. Indeed, most of Satan’s plans, schemes and devices are long-term. You must consider each move that the enemy makes against you and ask yourself, “What is the long-term goal of this attack?” What are the real intentions of my enemy?

The Plans of an Enemy

In 1941, Adolf Hitler decided to invade the Soviet Union. The planned invasion was called Operation Barbarossa. On the surface, it looked like a simple invasion by one aggressive country against another. But that was not the case. There was much more to the invasion of Russia by Germany. Adolf Hitler had many long-term plans for the Soviet Union. These are some of the plans he had for the Soviet people.

1. A war of annihilation should be waged against the Soviet Union, which would violate all standards of civilized warfare and would be waged in the most inhumane way possible.

2. Germany would have all of Russia’s oil, especially the rich Baku oil fields.

3. When the Soviet Union is defeated, labour shortage in German industries could be relieved. In other words, he saw the Soviets as a source of labour for his industries.

4. The Soviet people would be a vast source of forced labour under German rule.

5. When the Soviet Union is defeated, Ukraine would be a reliable source of agricultural products.

6. Entire urban populations of the invaded land (cities of the Soviet Union) were to be starved to death, thus creating an agricultural surplus to feed Germany.

7. The urban populations of the Soviet Union would be replaced by the superior German upper class.

You can see from all these stated goals that Hitler’s long-term plans for the Soviet Union were more terrible than the invasion itself. He had plans to turn the entire Soviet Union into a labour force, to starve entire cities to death and replace them with Germans.

So it is in every war! You must ask yourself, “What are the real long-term intentions of the invasion.”

The Sex Attacks

What is a “sex attack”? A sex attack is an attack on your life and ministry through sex. A sex attack can happen to a man or a woman. Sex attacks are some of the commonest types of attacks on ministers. Sex attacks take many forms but the long-term goal of sex attacks are a hundred times more devastating than the short-term effects. You may not know that sex attacks are spiritual attacks, but they are! Sex is a very spiritual thing and the sex organs are portals through which spirits enter the human body (Revelation 18). Most Christians have been tempted at one time or the other to do something wrong sexually. On the surface, these attacks look like sexual mistakes that have no long-term consequences. We all assume that if confessed, God will forgive these sexual sins and the matter will be over. However, there are many long-term goals behind a sexual attack. These long-term plans of the enemy are not easy to discern. Indeed, when they materialise, you can hardly link what is happening to the sexual deed of yesteryear. There are three types of sex attacks that exist. “Fornication attacks”, “low frequency and quality sex” attacks and “zero sex” attacks.

Fornication Attack

A certain smooth young man who had the attention of many girls thought that he was the king of kings and lord of lords as he went around from hen to hen. Initially, he thought he was just having a good time with all the different girls. When this brother finished university, he wanted to get married and found a nice Christian virgin whom he married.

However, after being married for some time, the brother realised that he was simply unable to stay faithfully with only one girl. He had grown up having sex with absolutely every girl he ever interacted with. Remember that this is not unusual for many young men. Most guys take a hundred women to bed, but one to the altar.

One day, the young man came to see the pastors. He was desperate because his marriage was breaking down as he was unable to remain faithful. When I spoke to him, he was a broken man. “I want to stop committing fornication, but I can’t stop.” His wife did not want to stay with him any longer.

I explained to him that few women would accept to stay with someone who sleeps with everyone they ever meet. The wife of this young man was faced with a difficult decision: Stay on in the marriage and risk catching HIV from the husband’s uncontrollable sex life? The other option for the lady was to divorce her husband. Unfortunately for this brother, there was no woman who was willing to accept his helpless fornication lifestyle.

I remember another situation in which a brother who had lived a life of multiple and indiscriminate fornication, although married to a very beautiful girl, was unable to enjoy sex with her. Somehow, she never matched up to some of the exotic and energetic young ladies he had had sex with. Having sex with his wife even produced a guilt feeling for him.

Soon, this brother was having very little sex with his wife until he became a self-declared impotent and non-sexual man. His wife never knew why he was not aggressive or interested in having sex with her. In the long term, this brother’s life of multiple and indiscriminate fornication had destroyed his ability to dwell normally with one woman. It had given rise to premature impotence and an abnormally low sex drive.

In yet another situation, a brother who lived continually in fornication simply developed HIV and began to die slowly. Unfortunately, his response to the HIV virus was poor and he succumbed quickly to the illness.

As you can see, there are many different ways in which a simple act of fornication plays out. You must always be aware of the long-term intentions and plans of the enemy. The long-term goal of the sex attack is actually the destruction of marriage, the destruction of normal living, the destruction of marital harmony and making it impossible for a couple to live together. Other long-term goals of a sex attack is sickness, disease and death. A good general engages in a campaign to foil the long-term plots of his enemy. Long-term plots are sometimes not easy to see or understand.

Low Frequency, Low Quality Sex Attacks

Your sexual needs are determined by how God created you – male or female. Christians have a lot of sexual problems.

The sexual life of pastors is a context for many of the long-term and short-term plans of the enemy. In my book, Model Marriage, I devised a sex-o-meter, which measures the frequency of sex between couples. Some people mocked the existence of such a meter. Why mock me? Don’t you realise that Satan also has a sex-o-meter? He is the one who watches the frequency and quality of your sexual life. If it were not so, how would he be able to know when you have not had sex for some time, so that he can tempt you? Is that not what Paul said? “Defraud ye not one the other, except it be with consent for a time, that ye may give yourselves to fasting and prayer; and come together again, that Satan tempt you not for your incontinency” (1 Corinthians 7:5). Satan tempts you based on your sexual frequency and quality. You can expect Satan or one of his agents to be in the bedroom with you to monitor the frequency and quality of your sex life.

A certain brother married to a Christian sister struggled to have sex often. There is always a reason why sex does not happen and cannot happen often. For some people, if it does happen, it is of the lowest quality in the world. This is called “hard-to-get” sex. Many people suffer from “hard to get” sex. This is a sex attack and it is spiritual in its nature. It is also called a “low frequency and quality” sex attack. In this case, sex is technically available to the man. But in reality, it is of the lowest frequency and of the lowest quality you can imagine. The quality of sex is so poor that it is undesirable.

The next step in this cleverly, thought-through sex attack is for the brother to find an eager, willing, beautiful young girl who does not have the grumpiness and bad attitude of his Christian wife who is always in church working for God. One of the cheapest things to find is a willing and eager girl who is ready to sleep with an important person.

Soon, this Christian husband is committing adultery with frisky, cheerful, chirping and energetic ladies. He has turned away from his “low frequency and quality” sex life and found many delightful alternatives. He has turned away from the “hard to get sex” to the “easy to get” sex.

He now says, “I like these young girls. They are like toy cars; when you press a button, they start moving!”

One lady said to me, “I have slept with so many married men whom I did not love. I did many fantastic and exotic things to them because I knew I would get a lot of money afterwards.”

The Christian man is now enjoying fantastic and exotic things as compared to the hard to get, cold shoulder, busy chorister, grumpy old lady option in his bedroom.

What has been the long-term outcome of this type of sex attack? Adultery and unfaithfulness! But it may not end there. This situation may get worse and lead to divorce. Hatred for each other may develop in the marriage. The hatred could also lead to murder. As you can see, the sex attack has many long-term effects.

Zero Sex – Sex Attack

“Zero sex” is a situation where a man does not have sex at all. This can come about because he is unable to find someone he loves. He proposes to one girl after another but no one likes him. Some male students we interviewed in the university explained why they were engaged in sex with other boys in the school. They said, “The girls are very hard to get. They make fun of you and it is difficult to enter a relationship with them. Fellow brothers are much easier to get along with.”

As a result, these young men in the university have become homosexually active. Recently, a man went on a rampage in the United States of America. He killed six people and eventually killed himself. He left a note saying that all the girls he tried to befriend refused him. No one liked him and he developed a hatred for anyone he felt was having sex.

When a young man is unable to get a wife, for whatever reason, the “zero sex” attack can turn him into a homosexual, a rapist or a pornographer. Some people also become rapists because they are unable to have a sexual release. Many young people, unable to have sex when they want, turn to pornography and become serial expert pornography students.

Perhaps, one of the saddest effects of the “zero sex” attack is when a husband or a father is turned towards other men for his sexual needs. A normal husband becomes someone who now has homosexual relationship with boys and men.

Many priests have been forced into a “zero sex” mode. This “zero sex” mode attack resulted in the priests becoming homosexuals and abusers of their power. As you can see, “zero sex” is also a spiritual attack with devastating spiritual consequences. It is only when you look at the long-term effects of “zero sex” or little sex and poor quality sex that you realise that it was actually an attack of the devil on your life. A good general must be aware of the long-term and short-term plans of the enemy!

Do you want to eventually become a rapist?

Do you want to eventually become a pornographer?

Do you want to eventually become an adulterer?

Do you want to eventually not have a home or family?

Do you want to be someone who can never get married?

Do you want to become a divorcee?

Do you want to eventually become homosexual?

Do you want to become someone who sleeps with both boys and girls?

If not, do not take any of these sex attacks lightly. Do not see fornication as something that just passes and goes away.

Do not see the absence of sex as a short-term, temporary problem.

Do not see “zero sex” as something with no long-term effect on you. A good general is very conscious of the long-term goals of his enemy. Brace yourself against all forms of sexual attacks. They all have long-term components, which will be activated against you. A good general must be aware of the long-term and short-term plans of his enemy!

by Dag Heward-Mills

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