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cryptotheism · 1 year

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A Review of The Way Of The Shadow Wolves: The Deep State And The Hijacking Of America by Steven Segal

Alleged rapist and human trafficker, cop groupie, washed-up action movie star, and personal friend to Vladimir Putin, the paradox of Steven Segal is how he manages to stick around despite being –by damn near every account– a universally unpleasant vacuum of charisma. I could go on, but I feel that no introduction of Steven would be complete without the tale of the headlock. Legends tell of Steven’s conflict with legendary martial artist and hollywood stunt coordinator “Judo” Gene Lebell. Allegedly, the two fell into an argument on the set of the film Out For Justice. The crux being Steven’s claim that he was “immune” to being choked unconscious. Allegedly, LeBell called his bluff, and put the actor in a headlock. A headlock that resulted in Steven losing consciousness, and control of his bowels. Steven denies the story. He also wrote a book.

The book is garbage, but garbage in a way that can be easily overstated. I wanted to take a page from other reviewers of this book, and call the text what it is; a fever dream of exhausting mediocrity, swaddled in delusions of grandeur. I wanted to whale on it. I wanted to denounce it like some ridiculous fire-and-brimstone preacher of internet literary criticism. But this does not capture the core, the essence of Way of the Shadow Wolves. There is a paradox at the heart of this text, a contradiction that even now I struggle to describe. Because despite everything, despite the balls-to-the-walls premise, the disastrous prose, and the buckwild plot, this book is deeply and powerfully boring. To call it a fever dream is to imply that it might be exciting.

Some books are bad in a way that must be experienced firsthand. This is not one of those books. In a way, I feel that you’ve already read this book. You know Steven Segal. You met him in elementary school, when he told you he has “every black belt.” You met him in college when you tricked him into smoking a bag of oregano. You met him at your most recent family gathering, where you were trapped in an awkward one-sided conversation about “those people.” The bad-ness of Steven’s work is deeply familiar.

We have our boots. We have our waders. We have our shovels. But, before we wade into the shit, there is one more thing we need to get out of the way: The Shadow Wolves are real. In 1972 the United States government agreed to the Tohono O'odham Nation’s demand that border enforcement agents patrolling their land have at least one quarter native ancestry. The result being the specialized unit of Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers known as The Shadow Wolves. In the 2020 Sonic the Hedgehog film, Dr. Eggman states that they are who trained him in the art of tracking.

WAY OF THE SHADOW WOLVES

Let us cook Way of the Shadow Wolves from scratch. Think of every dogshit C-list action movie you’ve ever seen. Ideally, you want the trash cuts of post-9/11 hysteria marbled with ex-cia heroes and vaguely arab villains. Drop it all into a stockpot. Next, roughly dice some comic books and kung-fu movies, the more racist the better. Now add some datura, it doesn't matter if it's edible or not, because you saw a native American in a movie make something like that once and you’re totally 1/64th Cherokee. Add a whole can of Qanon and a whole can of racism. Boil until you have pacing thicker than mud.

Way of the Shadow Wolves is a police procedural meets a spy thriller, a fast-paced action drama about elite agents on the fringes of the law who have the huge sweaty meaty balls to do what needs to be done for our country. It is Steven's attempt at the action schlock he embodies as an actor. Our hero is John Gode: Shadow Wolf. Reservation-born native American tracker, ICE agent, and Kung-Fu master. I believe he might have been described at one point. If he was, I do not care. Steven does not care. It does not matter. John Gode is Steven, and he’s the most badass dude to ever not be gay. He is: Special Agent Shaman Cop. He’s gonna beat up the deep state. That’s all you need to really need to know. In fact, it is shocking just how little you need to know about this book.

We begin in a movie theater, where our protagonist is alone, watching the end credits of a movie about the atrocious treatment of native Americans on behalf of the united states government. When the film finally ends, John says to himself “It’s about time.” He gets up to leave. The chapter immediately ends. My compliments to the chef. A delightfully bland apéritif of a character introduction. Steven uses the essential point of first contact with our protagonist to tell us vital information like “He doesn’t like it when movies are long.” or maybe “He didn’t like this movie about the trail of tears.” It is unclear. To quote English-Albanian philosopher Dua Lipa, “Go girl, give us nothing.”

I have been dancing around the quality of the writing. It seems impossible to approach without the footing of a new paragraph, an opponent that requires full-focus, an all-out assault. It is nigh-incomprehensible. I hate comparing bad writing to drugs. It feels too easy. But there is a specific air to Way of the Shadow Wolves. There is a distinct cadence, simultaneously manic and lethargic, that comes from attempting to write while day drunk on over-prescribed amphetamines. And make no mistake, if Steven was not entranced by the muse of Too Many Uppers And Downers At The Same Time, if he wrote this thing stone sober, that is worse. Small quotes will not do the writing style justice, you must see for yourself how sentences flow into each other:

“The desperado’s mind went back in time to a small town in Mexico twelve years before, where he first met his two cohorts when they were thrown together by a tragic set of circumstances. Their parents had been gunned down by a cartel who was at war with a competing cartel for control of the area, which was a pathway to the American border near Nogales, Arizona. All three had been shepherded to a local mission where they were being cared for by the Franciscans, who were becoming overwhelmed by the growing number of children left homeless due to the rampant killings by the warring cartels . . .”

Labyrinthine. A paragraph structure that would feel more at home with Calvino, or Garcia Marquez at his most experimental, though stripped of its deft control and musicality. Segal will regularly change temporal perspective in the middle of sentences. A single run-on sentence will begin in the past, have a middle clause in the present, and then return to the past by the end. There is a downright massive cast of characters for a 200 page book. Damn near every chapter introduces three or four more names, and we are lucky if Steven describes them before discarding them entirely. This book is a slog. I find myself losing patience with Steven.

—

Some time has passed since I began writing this review. Originally, my approach was surgical disassembly. I was going to go over the plot, summarize its anatomy, pick apart its flaws with surgical precision. But the more I cut, the more I felt as if I was the butt of a joke. I was performing an autopsy on a clown, pulling sheets of colorful rope from its gut, and the cadaver was laughing at me.

There is a moment, about halfway through. A woman approaches John at a bar. An assassin, who later attacks John in the parking lot with karate. A furious series of crescent kicks, effortlessly blocked by John Gode, who punches her in the ribs and knocks her to the ground. Realizing that her martial arts are defeated, she draws her gun, but John Gode is too fast. He fires his own weapon before she can get the shot off, killing her instantly. “Her round went upward toward the sky as she fell backward with eyes wide open, seeing nothing.”

This scene stuck with me. It illustrates one of the critical flaws at the heart of Way of the Shadow Wolves. Nothing hurts John. Nothing even gets close. He does not struggle. He does not sweat. He does not bleed. Steven clearly intends this scene to be badass, a moment where his self-insert hero defeats a dangerous enemy without trying. This book is an action movie, but John’s untouchability makes every action scene read as a moment of profound and boring cruelty. This was not a contest of master martial artists. This was an adult kicking a child in the throat.

I find myself losing patience with Steven. I am running out of humorous ways to describe this vapid tripe. This is, in my mind, the greatest condemnation of bad writing. There is no hell lower than being boring to mock. I see myself as a sort of sommelier of the awkward and disastrous. I will be the first to tell you “Wait! Don’t throw that out! There are things to be learned!” But Steven repeatedly proves himself to be a sort of Alchemist of Shit, capable of transmuting theoretically interesting bullshit into just fucking nothing. If this book deserves credit for anything, it is its miraculous ability to squander its own premise.

Why write this? Any of this? Steven clearly does not read. Or, if he does, he seems to subsist entirely on a diet of comic books about monkeys that do kung-fu. Why write this? At some level it all comes down to “because Steven wanted to” right?

Right?

But I cannot shake the feeling. To call this book masturbatory is to imply that Steven might have enjoyed it. There is a desperation to the power fantasy here. To be feared by men, desired by women, revered by all, yaddah yaddah yaddah, all the same trite excretions of blunt masculinity. But there is something else. Steven wants the same thing that every conspiracy theorist wants; a simple world. A world he can understand. Steven is exhausted, overwhelmed with a world he feels he can neither effect nor understand. I am exhausted.

I fear my earlier allusions to expressionist novels may have been more spot on than I imagined. Way of the Shadow Wolves has a plot in the sense that Sunny-D contains fruit juice. Its presence is a formality, a ceremonial hat worn for tax purposes. The plot is there, but it is unimportant. This is not a text that can be debated with. Because within the world of the text, politics is not complex. It is not actually a web of interconnected groups, each with their own interests, rivalries, alliances, and historical contexts. Behind all of it is two things: Good guys, and bad guys. The good guys are all working together, and the bad guys are all working together.

I find myself losing patience with Steven. I fear my earlier allusions to expressionist novels may have been more spot on than I imagined. Way of the Shadow Wolves has a plot.

John Gode finds a human tooth in the desert. It belongs to a body, a body of a woman described in lurid detail. Nearby, he meets a young native American man, a man who calls himself Sweet Tooth. The body is missing teeth, missing hands, missing feet. A trademark cartel killing. A young native American man. “I’m gonna be like, your assistant right?” A buddy cop dynamic. Meeting the task force. Tailing an ICE van full of cartel soldiers. A hostage situation. A shootout in the desert. Far away, faceless men in suits with masonic ranks plan a mass killing. Some sounded like they had Arabic accents. Freemasonry. Interrogation with a snake. The corpse was a woman. The woman was a reporter. She had the evidence on a flash drive, evidence that proved the existence of the deep state. What if its all connected? A sex scene, or almost a sex scene. A sex scene interrupted. A shootout in the desert. Kung Fu assassins at a bar. A cartel defector. A shootout in the desert. What if its all connected. They’re working with the Jihadists. The USA is already “half latino.” The government is paying the cartels to ship Jihadists north across the border. They’re well-trained and well armed. You can’t trust anyone. A terrorist defector who hears the voice of the prophet. The ghost of John’s grandfather. The sun sets over the Sonora. A shootout in the desert. They kidnapped John’s mother. Bring them the flash drive. They’re planning to bomb the casino. A shootout in the desert. The police chief was a traitor. The Catholics are in on it. Its all connected. A shootout in the desert. Assault by night. Rescuing the hostage. A knife dipped in pigs blood. A pit of vipers in the sonora.

Steven ends a chapter with the line. “They had functioned like a well-oiled machine that had just saved two innocent lives. All lives matter. Do they not?”

I am tired. I find myself at a neighborhood block party, trapped in a conversation I’ve had a thousand times. This time the man on the other end is a sweaty divorcee in range glasses who looks like a sunburned thumb. Last week, it was a woman with a necklace of crystals and blonde hair bleached blonder. “Haha yeah” I say, looking down at my phone. “Burgers look good this year huh?”

Thank you to my Patreon supporters who made this review possible.

#Steven Segal Review

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whispereons · 10 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 7

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 6, Part 8

I'm so sorry. I completely forgot the warnings! This chapter has more talk about sensitive topics. But it does not show or go into detail about it.

Dreams didn't haunt your sleep this time. You slept peacefully but woke up a little groggy from the ships movements. After readjusting your mask and freshening up, you left to find whatever food the Crux has.

The swaying ship's interior looked different in the daylight. So if you got a little lost while trying to find the stairs, then you can't be blamed. Eventually you did find it and climbed it to the main deck.

Most of the crew members seemed to be here already. The vast ocean surrounded you with no land in sight. You thought back to the players that would make ice bridges from Liyue to Inazuma using Kaeya.

"Oh that's them!" A yell catches your attention as a hand is roughly placed on your shoulder. You look up to see a tall, broad man with dark hair and a beard smiling down at you. He looked very familair and the sun casting a shadow on him helped you remember. This was the exhausted man that you showed the fan to, to board the Alcor.

"Is this the person you saw moving everyone off the floors, last night Sea Drake?" The man with his hand on your shoulder asks another man with a eyepatch and red bandana who nods.

"That's them Juza. I heard the creator's wishing show happening and by the time I was in the hallway I saw them moving ya'll halfdead bodies off the floor."

Oh fuck, did he see you wishing?

"I'm a little confused on what you both are talking about. My name is Y/N, I'm a guest that Lord Ayato paid for. Sea Drake was it? Did you see the creator's wishing?"

"We definitely should've introduced ourselves before talking to ya like this. I'm Sea Drake, the helmsman of this ship. Sadly no, when I came outside it was already finished, I only saw the gold star through the window in my room."

Crisis avoided. Juza releases your shoulder and picks up a bag. The way he cheerfully gives it to you is much different then how he acted when you first met him.

"I'm Juza, you showed me the Kamisato fan when you boarded last night. Man , what a shock it was when I woke up and remembered! Come sit with us and the other crewmates! We all wanted to thank ya for spending the time to move us."

You open the bag to see 4 pieces of grilled unagi meat. Your stomach growls at the sight and Sea Drake pulls you to a pile of crates where the other crewmembers are.

"This is Y/N! They're Kamisato's chosen guest, and also the one who moved us before the crates crushed us."

Two women and a man look at you with varying expressions. It's a girl wearing an eyepatch that introduces herself first.

"I'm Furong, I'm just a sailor in charge of fighting. Since you managed to move me then you must have some strength."

The second woman speaks up with a smile. "And I'm Huixing, the crews navigator. That guy is Suling, don't expect much of an introduction, he only likes weapons."

Suling sends Huxing a glare and huffs, "And you only like marine biology."

"So? At least I can say my name, you barely give anyone who isn't a crewmate or a weapon smith the time of day."

They start to bicker as you start eating the Unagi meat, it tasted so good. Sea Drake hands you crystal shrimp and you accept it with a smile. You only eat half of it when Furong silently hands you a plate of squirrel fish.

Isn't this too much food to give to someone? But you wouldn't say no to food, let alone food that smelled so delicious.

"Thanks Furong." You flash a smile at the stoic woman as you taste the sweet and sour dish. She nods and Huixing see's just how much food was handed to you.

"If you'll are gonna thank Y/N with food then you should have given some crab too." Huixing puts a container next to you that looks very similar to crab roe tofu. How were you supposed to eat everything?

"Don't you see the amount of food is too much? You were better off giving Y/N a drink instead." To your surprise the gruff Suling handed you a rainbow aster. A sip let you know that it was lavender melon flavored.

"I don't mind, I didn't eat last night so I was starving." Being handed this much food may be overwhelming but you would be lying if you said it wasn't exciting.

Making it your goal to finish everything they gave you, you start chowing down. They watch you in vague fascination and slight horror as you eat everything. You only had the last half of the rainbow aster left.

Bringing it to your lips you chug it down without stopping. You're pretty sure someone is chanting "Chug! Chug!" until you finish the drink with a smile.

"Man, that all tasted so good." You wipe your mouth and set the glass down. Juza pats your back roughly with a loud laugh.

"I've never seen someone eat all that food in one sitting! Not super surprising since you are Lord Kamisato's chosen guest."

Furong, Huixing, and even Suling seem shocked at this information.

"You're the chosen guest? Are you super strong or super important? Maybe even know some important information on sea creatures?" Huixing asks in a rush.

"Oh, nothing like that. I'm a oracle for the creator so I guess I would fall on the important scale. Can I know why being Lord Ayato's chosen guest is so important?" You ask casually.

"An oracle? Really? That does seem worthy enough for Lord Kamisato to use his favor." Did Beidou owe Ayato for something?

"You see years ago before the Captain got her vision, she needed a new claymore. Lord Kamisato sent Thoma to board our ship with the goods we were delivering around the same time. We were attacked by Haishan, a leviathan, and Thoma almost died during it. The captain ended up losing her eye to save Thoma's life."

Well shit. It makes sense now that Ayato trusts the Crux so much despite their less than legal activities.

"When we returned, Lord Kamisato had already heard what had happened. As thanks he had a claymore made for her. The Katsuragikiri Nagamasa and it was that claymore that she used to kill Haishan. But it also destroyed the claymore."

The force Beidou used to cut off Haishan's head without a vision must have great but also reckless that it broke it.

"Lord Kamisato got her another one in exchange that she would take care of anyone that boards the ship with his fan. His chosen guest is what he referred to them as. It's been so long we thought there would never be someone."

"That sounds incredible. I would love to have seen that hydra be slain." No, no you do not want to see that. Mostly cause you don't want to accidently die during that battle.

The conversation moves smoothly to different topics of different adventures. You occasionally give in input when needed but you're gradually getting lost in thought. Mainly wondering if creatures of Teyvat would actually recognize you as the creator, would battles like that still happen?

You blink in surprise when you see Beidou and Kazuha talking on the other side of the ship. When did they get there? Kazuha looks over in your direction and locks eyes with you. You smile and wave holding back laughter at how red he gets.

Beidou on the other hand has no reservation and laughs at him. You're too far away to hear it but her body language says it all. Whatever she tells Kazuha is making him even more embarrassed.

He glances at you before moving to the middle of the ship where no one else is. Having a feeling on what he wants to say, you thanked the crewmembers for the food and left.

You walk to the middle where Kazuha is already waiting for you. As soon as you stop in front of him, he bows low with closed eyes.

"Please accept my sincerest apologies. My behavior yesterday was unbecoming of me and incredibly rude. If you feel uncomfortable around me due to what I had almost done yesterday then I swear to make myself scarce around you."

Well damn, was it really that serious? The way he pinned you against the barrel yesterday was child's play compared to what you've gone through and seen back on Earth.

You smile brightly and held his hands. Clasping his hands tightly you speak with a gentle and kind voice.

"Kazuha I really didn't feel uncomfortable or threatened at all by you last night. It was more funny than anything else! Besides the haiku you told me yesterday was very sweet, I wasn't lying when I said that being your muse was very flattering."

Kazuha sighs and smiles in what seems to be relief. He stands back up straight and you release your grip. A frown flashes on his face for a split second before his expression becomes puzzled.

"I remember you telling me that you're an oracle for the creator. The grace you wield must be from them too." His eyes get warm and hazy for second, most likely from thinking about the 'creator'. He continues in that calm, soft voice you've known him for.

"My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, I'm a ronin who's been traveling for quite some time. I occasionally join Beidou on her voyages and as fate would have it, I even got the chance to meet you here too. It's a pleasure to properly meet you Y/N."

"The creator has shown me some of your previous journeys. There's no need to speak formally with me unless you choose to. As we are both close to the creator, I wish for us to get along."

The wind's breeze is softer than last night's but it still ruffles your hair as you smile at him. Under his breath Kazuha whispers and judging by the slight wonder in his eyes, he must no realize he's speaking aloud.

"Clouds part for a clear smile,

Winds whip for the perfect stage,

Soft eyes and a hypnotic style,

Not even maple leaves can upstage."

After those last words Kazuha notices your bashful expression. In turn he only smiles calmly with a slight tint on his cheeks.

"My drunk words last night were not false. My creativity has been very low these past few weeks, and out of everything I've tried. It is your mere presence that cured it."

"Should I be worried that I'll be sending Kazuha off so soon? It seems like he's enamored with you." Beidou comes striding over to you both with a confident smile.

"Hello, you must be Captain Beidou. Has the blackcliff slasher that the creator granted you been serving you well?" Beidou smiles wider at that, you were right to keep your guard up.

"Straight to the heart, I like that kind of directness. Seems like there's some truth to your claim as an oracle. I hope you don't take any offense to that."

"Not at all, blasphemous people exist after all. Even if you don't trust me, I hope you can at least trust Lord Ayato since he was the one who paid for me."

"You've got a silver tongue, that'll serve you well. Now I've got Kazuha's flowery language and your charming words. Do ya mind if I ask you how you came to know the Commissoner?"

"Not a problem. I was looking to find a boat to leave Inazuma and Itto, the leader of the Arrataki Gang, introduced me to Thoma. Thoma learned that I was an oracle and brought me to the Kamisato Estate. I proved that I'm the real deal to Lord Ayato and he gave me the fan."

You speak with a relaxed stance and hands in your pockets. The simpler and less detailed you put it, the less likely you'll be caught in a lie about. Telling Beidou that you had to pass tests is just not a good idea.

"Well even if I can't fully believe it, it won't matter too much anyway. Having the Commissioners fan and Kazuha's wind trusting you is more than enough proof for me." She says that but you don't feel reassured.

It won't matter anyway. The fan is physical proof that she can't objectify. Plus you had her at C3, she must feel some sort of pull towards you. Whatever way she takes it is up to her.

"But I shouldn't get so distracted. I wanted to let you know that we'll be taking a little longer to pick up some things on a island we pass by. Kazuha, since our lookout Xu Liushi couldn't come due to his sickness, I'll need you to go up there and keep a eye out for now."

The map in the game showed that there was no land between Liyue and Inazuma. Was this something added or was it finally revealed now that you were in Teyvat? It reminds you of your debate on whether this cult thing was added or revealed.

"No problem Beidou, Y/N would you like to come along? The view up there is breathtaking." Beidou nudges Kazuha with a smirk while Kazuha pointedly ignores her.

"That sounds great! This is my first time being on a ship like this."

Going to the top of a armed fleet? The thought of being up there that high gives you slight anxiety but it's overpowered by the childish excitement.

"Excuse me for a moment." Kazuha brief warning is acommnenied by his hands lifting you bridal style. "Hang on tight!"

Anemo swirls around his lower body as he crouches before springing into the air. Expertly he uses the anemo as momentum to bounce off the wood of the sails climbing higher and higher.

The air gets colder and harder to breathe at the speed you're going at. Closing your eyes you hide your face in his chest to protect it from the biting wind.

The thump of his shoes hitting the wood alerts you to his steady landing. Your amazed smile is clear to see as he softly sets you down.

Holding the circular railing tightly you look down to see the dizzingly view of the deck below you. It was such a dangerous position but the sight of the seemingly endless ocean was enrapturing.

"I personally perfer sitting on the edge of the boat but the scenery here has a certain charm to it too."

You look behind you to see Kazuha leaning back on the railing with his head angled up. His hair is ruffled by the wind and you admire the handsome man. Little details that you couldn't see on official artwork or game models became clearer.

The callouses on his hands. The wear and tear on his clothes. Even the hint of scars behind his bandages did not go unnoticed by your eyes. Moving to look at his face, you meet his eyes. Were those scarlet eyes always so peaceful yet striking?

"Last night you mentioned how I feel like a sweet dream and that the wind speaks highly of me. Today you spoke of it too. Can you tell me what the wind says of me?"

"I am unable to speak to it with words. It communicates to me with feelings and other abstract ways. I've just been in contact with it for so long that I would describe my communication with it as hearing."

Kazuha has been able to hear nature since he was little so he must have gained a lot of experience in understanding what it's trying to say to him. It's quiet before Kazuha speaks his next words with care.

"The wind has a unique way of speaking when it comes to the creator. That same way is also used when it speaks about you. The only one that has ever gotten as close to it as you, would be the traveler. But you surpass even her. As the creator speaks to you, it makes perfect sense that it speaks about you so similarly to the creator."

So, his own opinion makes him interpret the wind differently. If he saw your bare face and you introduced yourself simply by your name, he might have really believed you to be the creator. All those details plus the wind's reaction would make him entertain the idea.

But how long would it have lasted? All it would take is to see your crimson blood to make him start doubting. Doubts will creep in and eat away at his mind until he twists the wind's feelings into 'the wind is warning me of them pretending to be the creator by mimicking their appearance and scent.'

"It's such an honor to be seen similarly to the creator. I hope it can stay like that forever. I'm not sure if the creator will stay with me forever but I'm thankful that I can at least meet people like you on this journey."

Your words are like sickly saccharine. Sweet to others but sickening to you. The lies rot your teeth like sugar as you clasp your hands together. Smiling shyly you look at Kazuha with a earnest expression.

For a second, Kazuha's breath seems stolen. His cheeks gain a rosy hue and his gaze seems to swallow you whole. Until the expression falls and his eyebrows pinch together slightly.

"Is somethi-"

"Oi Kazuha! I need your help with something for a second!"

Furong is the one calling him. If it wasn't for the anemo providing aid to help you hear better, you would have missed it completely. Kazuha looks down and glances at you with a contemplative expression.

"I'll head down in a second!" Kazuha reluctantly yells back before looking back at you with a soft almost sorrowful smile.

"I'll be heading down to help them, if you don't mind staying up here then please wait for me to come back."

You nod to show your agreement and watch him leave. The glimmer of worry in his eyes doesn't escape yours.

There's no way your front failed, if there's one thing you're confident in, it's your skill in lying. His initial reaction shows that he fully believed it, so what made him strongly doubt it?

The wind, or the anemo element specifically. Your connection to Teyvat as the creator must have let it alert him to your hidden feelings. He must believe that you feel sad rather than you being a liar. After all, lying would have made him mad.

You brainstorm what kind of story you can tell Kazuha as you wait for him to come back. The rolling waves, occasional jumping fish, and cawing birds are good background noise to help. The sight of a small island jolts you out of your head.

The sound of Kazuha's signature skill is perfectly timed as you turn back to see him land smoothly on the wood. Before he can speak and try to address your earlier mood, you speak first.

"That island Beidou mentioned is getting close. Should we alert her now or wait?" You point at the land that the Alcor is steadily getting closer to with an easy smile.

Kazuha frowns a little at the sight of it, it turns into a soft smile as he stretches his hands out to you.

"You're correct, we should tell her now. The landing will be a bit rough so it's best for you to be on the deck rather than up here. If you don't mind, I'll help you back down."

"Not a problem." Your words are accompanied by a beaming smile as your hand is placed in his. Swiftly he picks you up and holds you firmly in his arms.

"Which way would you perfer? The fast drop or a gradual landing?" He stands on the railing without faltering as he smiles at you.

"The fast drop, I trust that you will land as smoothly as you speak." The words you speak have a teasing note as you tighten your grip on him.

"Then I will not disappoint."

Instead of jumping off while facing the ground like you expected, he turns around so his back faces the drop. He starts falling backwards as you gasp in surprise.

Unlike the first time Kazuha held you, you made sure to keep your eyes open. Your stomach lurched as the air rushed past you. All too soon Kazuha righted his body and used his skill to land on the deck.

You're set down gently as he keeps hold of your hands to steady you. Eyes scrunched up in joy an airy giggle leaves you.

"You're the best rollercoaster I've ever been on."

"What's a rollercoaster?"

"I don't know, what is a rollercoaster?"

Your serious and confusing response makes Kazuha blink in confusion before Beidou comes up behind him.

"You both came down a lot sooner than I thought. Has the island been spotted already?"

"Yes, it has. It's around-" You zone off when Kazuha starts telling Beidou all the details on where the island is and how close it is to the ship. You needed to conserve any and all mental energy to keeping yourself alive, information like this would hinder you more than anything.

That's exactly why you only sat on a crate out of everyone's way as they ran around preparing to briefly dock at the island. If you are lucky, Kazuha might even forget whatever he planned to ask you.

The ship stops at the island and the board is put down. You watch in vague confusion as none of the crewmembers move to leave. Weren't they supposed to pick up some things from the island?

The sight of a very familar panda boarding the ship with a large bag makes you sit up straighter. Guoba, the usually silent bear happily put the bag down on the deck before catching sight of you.

He freezes at the sight of you as his eyes go wide. Feeling a bit worried that he might react like Ei, you wave at him trying to keep your heart under control. You have no clue how this secretly ancient god would react to you!

Guoba rushed towards you as he jumped up in down in what seemed like joy. Little hums and trills of happiness escaped him as you relaxed at his positive reaction. It would seem that he recognizes you as the creator. Too bad he can't talk and actually tell everyone.

Smiling you offer your hand to Guoba as he places his paws in it with childlike delight.

"Hello, you must be Guoba. You used to be the stove God right? A pleasure to meet you, I'm Y/N. I'm currently the creator's oracle."

He tilts his head in confusion. It must be weird to him that the creator is referring to themselves as someone other than the creator. Hopefully, his reduced mental capacity will not let him interfere and accidentally rat you out.

"Guoba, there you are! There's still a few bags left, please help me get the last ones."

Xiangling comes onto the ship holding two bags with a worried expression. Guoba looks at you and then at Xiangling with a conflicted expression.

You release Guoba's paws and gesture off the boat with your head, silently telling Guoba to help Xiangling out. With one last "Lalala~" he hopped off the boat.

The cheerful vision holder that has a literal god as a companion, sets the bags down and apologizes with a sheepish smile.

"I'm so sorry for Guoba's action! He usually isn't that physical with people. My name is Xiangling and I'm a chef from Liyue."

"It's not a problem, Gouda was endearing rather than off-putting. I'm glad he's that friendly with me. You can call me Y/N."

Another woman boards the ship holding three bags with Guoba following after her with the last bag. A tall stature, darker skin, many spikes and a large guitar-claymore fusion helps you easily identitfy Xinyan.

She was taller than her game model looked like and her features were sharper too. Her character details said that she was taller than most girls her age so it makes sense that you can see her accurate height.

But it still made no sense that people are so afraid of her. People would move out of lines she joins which was pretty fucking stupid. Maybe it's cause she lives in Liyue and you're from Earth but she looked more badass than scary.

Xinyan must have felt your gaze as she turns to look in your direction with confusion. She sets down all three bags and Xiangling hurriedly opens them. With a friendly smile Xinyan walks over to you.

"Are you a special guest of some sort? I'm Xinyan, the only rock 'n' roll musician in Liyue. Beidou doesn't usually pick people up unless they're something special."

Hopping off the crate you hold your hand out with a grin. Xiangling may be looking into the bag but you can tell she's listening. Both pyro users are extremely friendly and not likely to suspect you of anything bad. It's best to get on their good side which thankfully isn't hard.

"I'm Y/N, an oracle for the creator. As for special guest, it's more like I'm the Kamisato Clan's chosen guest. It's great to meet you Xinyan."

As Xinyan shakes your hand Xiangling's head whips around to face you both at light speed.

"You're an oracle for the creator?!" She says loudly as she comes to you with sparkling eyes. Should you be concerned?

"Does that mean the creator can taste food through you? I've always offered food to the shrines and temples but it's not like I can get any feedback through that method. But if the creator can taste through you then you can tell me what they think of my food!"

Xiangling is steadily growing closer to your face with each word until her expectant eyes are almost all you can see. Xinyan watches the scene affectionately before scrambling to close the bags that has ingredients almost falling out of it.

Said ingredients are stuff that you don't recognize at all. Or they are a completely new variation of regular ingredients like hot pink Jueyun Chili peppers. It makes you a little scared to eat her food.

But at the same time, Xiangling was a famous chef. A true prodigy in culinary arts. She wouldn't want to feed the creator bad or sickening food. Her food is just a little dangerous, like Russian roulette.

In the end, your stomach won as you clap your hands together with glee.

"You're correct, the creator and I are connected in ways that acolytes are not. That includes sharing certain senses. I've heard before that you are one of the best chefs and even won a competition! Both I and the creator have high expectations."

Your words are said with so much enthusiasm that it couldn't have been mistaken for someone trying to subtly put pressure to be served the best food.

Xiangling hops from one foot to the other in elation as Guoba cheers with her. She's already grabbing a bag and a few other worrying substances from the other bags as she speaks.

"I'll be sure to serve up the best food! I'll start with something familiar then move on to the more risky dishes and finally end with my newest creation!"

Oh boy, you were in trouble.

You could only wave briefly to Xiangling before she speeds away to what you believe to be the kitchen. If you get sick then at least you have an excuse to avoid Kazuha and Beidou.

"All of Xiangling's dishes are rock 'n' roll! They might look or smell like something that'll set you ablaze but I promise it's full of nothin' but burning passion!"

Xinyan's accent graces your ears as you look at her with a nervous smile.

"Oh, I'm not doubting her ability. It's my own taste buds that I'm worried about. Inazuma has a lot of mild tasting dishes so the signature spices that Xiangling uses might be a shock for my mouth."

"Even so, you seem mighty open to trying it. That's a good thing of course, prejudice only slows life's roll."

The shifting of the fleet makes you stumble a little and grip the railing. Xinyan who has experience with sailing only leans back on edge of it with a content sigh.

Prejudice. It's the core concept that Xinyan fights against using rock 'n' roll which is viewed as resistance. In a way, you were also in this spot due to prejudice. After all, if everyone didn't have certain expectations of the creator or weren't so guarded against features that resemble the creator. You wouldn't be in this mess.

"Hey Xinyan? Do you mind me asking a question?"

"Not a problem, go ahead."

"What made you love rock 'n' roll? And I don't mean as a music genre but as a concept."

"That's a bit of a long story but I'll try to narrow it down. You'll need some background information first. I suggest you get comfortable."

You're quick to shift into a more relaxed stance beside her. Her story and words will be a very welcome distraction from the thought of dealing with whatever Liyue will throw at you.

"You hear my accent? It's because I grew up in the poorer countryside and growing up I faced a lot of people that weren't accepting of me. My height, face, skills, and even my skin color at times. There was a time where I wanted to give up and just accept that I wasn't what people wanted me to be. That the real me just wouldn't be accepted."

Her lips were set in a line as she spoke. Hands drumming on the railing to a tune you didn't recognize.

"But I absolutely hate losing so I visited Fontaine. I hoped that I could learn some tricks to finally master traditional feminine arts, instead I found something better. I found rock 'n' roll. Just that one concert I went to changed my life, the spirit of resistance spoke to like nothing else!"

You stayed quiet as she started to speak excitedly. A little seed of envy sprouted in your heart but you were quick to stomp on it to death.

"It really helped put everything in perspective. I didn't need to change who I was, things I can't control or my own opinions to make others happy. The creator must surely approve of it too since I got my vision through it too. At this point I've mastered everything people said I wouldn't and I'm far happier than I would have been if I gave up."

Her eyes finally meet yours as she smiles fearlessly. You match her expression with one more tame but just as happy.

If your life wasn't in danger, perhaps you would be taking a route similar to hers. Simply living without apology and doing your best to live every day to the fullest. But that wasn't possible when your life is on the line like this. Still it was nice to dream.

"It's really amazing Xinyan. You should be proud of who you are today because there's a lot more people than you think that are just as proud. So don't burn out until there's nothing left to set aflame, okay?"

Those words aren't just meant for her, it was for you too. 'Don't stop trying to find a life here until every option is exhausted.' Reckless? Yes, but you didn't want to die like cattle in this life. Not after living like a dog back on Earth.

"Oh that's perfect! That's the best inspiration I've gotten through this whole trip. I need to go write this down and tune my guitar before the big show today. I'll see ya later Y/N!"

Xinyan was already rushing off to who knows where before you get a word out. The ship wouldn't get to Liyue till early tomorrow morning. What show was she talking about?

You sat at the table in the kitchen as Xiangling placed dish upon dish on the table till no empty space was left. Some looked normal even recognizable like black-back perch stew, a specialty of hers. Other's looked almost frightening like the strange hot pink stir fry with neon green fish and blueish veggies.

"From left to right is my most confident work to my latest dishes. I hope you enjoy them all."

Xiangling looked so happy and expectant that you didn't have it in you to back out. With a gentle smile you start eating the stew.

Was this heaven? Was it possible to taste heaven?

You gobble down the black-back perch stew like it was your last meal. You swallow the last piece before giving your review.

"The creator is very happy that your most famous original dish is this one. It's truly the best combination of Li and Yue cuisine."

You weren't technically lying, your words are more comparable to speaking in third person.

With more confidence you begin eating the dishes systematically while giving what you hope is valid criticism.

"The flavor of silk flowers is a little too strong in this one."

"This blue violet grass you got is good initially but the aftertaste sucks."

"The shellfish you caught requires more seasoning."

You actually managed to eat all the dishes and not throw up. Was this a testament to Xiangling's cooking skills or your iron stomach from all sorts of crap you ate on Earth?

"Thank you so much Y/N! It's always been my childhood dream to offer my dishes to the creator themself! I've written down everything you said so that I don't forget and can always look back on it."

She pats the notebook with a smug smile at your mostly positive feedback that makes you laugh.

"Thank you too Xiangling. Your dishes were some of the best I've ever tasted. Whenever the creator comes, I'm sure they'll want you as their chef."

She blush at your compliment and turns away in embarrassment. Guoba seems to be sharing her joy judging by the happy "Lalala~" he lets out.

You reach out and pet his head. His eyes close and he stands perfectly still. This had to be the most adorable thing, he was so soft!

The clinking of a plate on the table snaps you and Guoba out of your daze. A bowl of food and meat smelling vaguely of pork catches your attention.

"I didn't forget you Guoba. Thank you for waiting and not stealing Y/N's food. So I made you your favorite!"

You move your hand off his head and he happily starts eating his food. What you thought was pork looks different. Was this another animal you didn't recognize?

"What meat is that? I thought it was pork but the texture looks really different. I've never seen it before."

"Oh, it's human flesh. I did have some leftover internal organs but I put those to freeze for him to eat at dinner."

You barely hold back the urge to throw up.

There were always cannibalism jokes about Xiangling with her "Help! My dinner is attacking me!" line but this was so much more. She actually killed, cooked, and fed Guoba a human being. And so casually said it too!

Did she use that meat in your food too? Did any of your dishes have human remains in them? Your grip on the table tightens a little. She's still watching Guoba as she belatedly continues.

"I only feed animals human meat. I wouldn't want to be a cannibal or make anyone else one either. But it's such a waste to leave meat like that to rot. Might as well feed it to someone right? One of my signature traits is to make dishes out of any ingredients after all."

Should you be relieved or worried? This must be common knowledge or even common practice by how easily she told you. Bile pools in your mouth as you ask her.

"How did you get the meat? Did you just find the body or did you have to kill someone?"

"I'm not fond of killing and I try to avoid it outside of when the creator controls me. But when people speak about the creator like they don't matter or don't exist, it really bothers me. I end up saying something, it becomes an argument and then it gets messy. Under law it's okay to kill someone who disgraces the creator so I don't get in trouble but it would be a waste to just leave them there."

That's a literal law? Was it just in Liyue or was it in every nation? If you were too careless when you spoke to Ayaka that day, she could have killed you and no one would blame her.

You hum and nod, not trusting that your voice could be steady just yet. Guoba finishes his bowl and Xiangling takes it to the sink.

Laying your head on the table, you focus on relaxing your stomach.

That law was probably created for more morally correct situations like someone blatantly badmouthing the creator. And there's a large chance they wouldn't immediately believe the accusations. But Xiangling and Ayaka are both well known and liked acolytes. The court would totally believe them.

Ayaka probably didn't kill you because she wanted Ayato to make the final decision. Plus killing you would reflect badly on her as the Shirasagi Himegimi. With this new knowledge of Xiangling's cooking ingredients you had be more careful around her.

You lift your head a little at the sound of a guitar. Was that singing?

Quietly you excuse yourself from the kitchen and climb the stairs to the main deck. There you saw the crew gathered around what looked like Xinyan in the middle.

She was strumming her guitar on a makeshift stage as she started to sing. Her vision would glow at brief intervals as her movements were accompanied by spurts of fire.

Was it really safe for a destructive fire vision holder to use it on a wooden boat? You were no professional but wasn't this an extreme fire hazard?!

A little more frantic you start scanning the boat looking for Beidou. Surely she would either reassure you with facts or put a stop to it.

At the lack of the captain you climb to the higher deck as the music gets louder and louder. Flames were now constantly swirling around her as the crew cheered along.

You finally spot Beidou watching the ocean as the waves roll harder then they were this morning.

"Captain Beidou! I hope I'm not bothering you but I'm just a little concerned. Is it safe for fire to be so open on the ship? Xinyan's concerts never hurt any of the fans but the stages and area tend to be casualties right?"

She looks back at you with her good eye and smiles knowingly. She hangs her arm around your shoulder and spins you towards the stairs leading to the main deck.

"You shouldn't be so worried about that. As captain, I'll always make sure you're safe. So go on! Have fun! Join the crowd and let go of your worries."

That's only making you more worried.

You feel a bit helpless as she walks down the stairs with you. The sky is almost completely covered with grey clouds. Xinyan's singing rings throughout your ears perfectly in tune with the music.

Xiangling leaves the kitchen and Beidou releases you in favor of talking to the cheerful chef. Looking up you can see the faint form of Kazuha at the lookout. The loud music must be bothering his sensitive hearing.

The air is starting to feel damp and hot as the flames grow bigger and spread farther. Despite your worries, it's almost hypnotic to watch Xinyan perform with such ferocity.

It's the tug of your clothing that snaps you out of your daze. Looking down you see Guoba looking strangely worried. He releases your clothes in favor of holding your hand and brings you closer to the edge of the boat.

With this new view you can see the harsh waves and crashing tides. The ship is swaying and each shift makes you hold onto the railing tighter. A long, huge and dark figure below the ocean makes your breath stop as fear bites your soul.

With uncharacteristic terror and alarm you whip your head around to where you last saw Beidou.

"Somethings coming!-"

Your warning is just a tad too late as a loud roar overpowers your words.

Unable to mask your horror you turn your head back to the ocean as a large shadow overtakes you. A huge sea monster rises from the ocean as the water falls off it with a loud splat.

Four eyes peer down at the ship and seem to lock eyes with you. The twin heads point up at the sky as another booming roar rings through the sky.

This took really long huh? I was just getting super busy plus with family stuff. But that's boring! I also noticed that I write different depending on my location, weird but it makes sense. Isn't it strange how Thoma never visits Mondstadt? Ayato and Ayaka would totally let him have a week off to go visit but he doesn't. I guess you can say that I headcanon that Thoma has a fear of traveling large bodies of water like that. After nearly dying on his way from Monstadt to Inazuma, he can't handle that kind of journey well anymore. Which is why he would need saving.

And I should totally clarify about Xinyan for those who saw her cutscene in the second Golden Apple Archipelago. Starting with setting, it's canon that she has a accent and grew up poor. But in the cutscene, she's in Liyue's city. That can be easily brushed off as visiting. But she also sees a man using an instrument there and gains her love for music. Except she's the first and only rock 'n' roll musician in Liyue so that means she got her love for rock 'n' roll somewhere else. So the backstory I made with her could totally fit the canon. The next chapter has a lot of lore and more action. (that ofc includes lying) Also a lot of people haven't been popping up when I try to tag them but I hope those in the taglist have been getting notifs. I'm gonna edit this whole thing in the morning and post it around then. (maybe) Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37,

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 32

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Well, this escalated in a way I didn't plan.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is a low drone. You can hear his curt tone as he comes through the front door. His slither is met by a booming timbre that makes you jump. Thor speaks loudly, enough for some of his words to thunder through the walls that divide you.

Your ears pulse as you try not to listen. You know you shouldn’t. By Laufeyson’s reaction alone, you know his brother is less than welcome. Thor’s presence brings you little peace yourself as the memory of his creeping touch crawls up your spine.

You sit behind the laptop and try to focus on the screen. If you can distract yourself, it will be over soon enough and Thor will be gone. Maybe then, you can figure out why Mr. Laufeyson has turned to ice.

“...is she?” The two words echo and jar you from your failing battle.

Laufeyson’s response is short and sharp. You fill in the blanks of his deflection; ‘none of your concern’.

“...busy cleaning up your messes, eh?” Thor’s taunting question rolls upwards as footsteps hammer up the stairs, stopped halfway as another pair shuffle after them.

“I did not welcome you in,” Laufeyson is clearer now. You assume they are on the staircase with how their voices waft airily.

“Always the gracious host,” Thor counters.

“Do not lecture me on grace. Say what you’ve come to say and go. I’m busy–”

“Oh, yes, if I had a little maid like that, I’d always be busy as well–”

“Get on with it,” Laufeyson snarls.

Thor laughs heartily, “brother, one day you will see we are more alike than you care to accept. Maybe then you would see that it is the crux of our problems. You might even appreciate our shared tastes–”

“If you’ve only come to ramble, I’m not interested. I’ve spent enough time entertaining you lot–”

“You speak as if we are enemies,” Thor accuses, “you cannot waste time on family.”

“Ah, because kinship has always been sacred in your heart,” Laufeyson scoffs, “you are like a storm, you bluster but only make a mess. Say what you came to say and leave me be. I’ve work to do. Real work.”

“Well, if I am to deliver my message, I think both recipients should receive it, don’t you?”

“Say it,” Laufeyson hisses.

“But it is meant for both of you. The little maid as well–”

You sit up straight and tweak your head. You shouldn’t listen but you’re caught now. You cannot keep from overhearing.

“House manager,” Laufeyson girds, “I’m certain I can efficiently communicate whatever nonsense has drawn you here.”

“And they say I am stubborn,” Thor snorts, “Walpurgisnacht.”

“Walpurgisnacht?” Laufeyson echoes the single word.

“Surely you recall the old ways.”

“Don’t,” Laufeyson warns.

“Mother is having a celebration. Like when we were young. Father’s agreed to it.”

“She didn’t mention.”

“Ah, yes, well, you’ve much going on. She sent me to inquire after the little maid– house manager. She would require help with arranging the festivities.” Thor explains, “oh, and you’re invited too, I suppose.”

“She has her staff, does she not?”

“Frida is too old. She only serves tea and Gertrude’s never been very strong-minded. Mother needs input, not an empty vessel.”

“Charming,” Laufeyson remarks, "well, I will consider it. Next time, tell mother to call.”

“There will be many old faces. Many may even be happy to see you,” Thor goads.

“I wouldn’t expect so,” Laufeyson retorts, “must I ask you to leave anon?”

Another rolling guffaw fills the house. You hear a grunt from Laufeyson and a muted thump. Thor quiets with a sigh, “ah, fine, fine, I shall leave you to your little– house manager. You will tell her I say hello.”

Silence roils through the air. A scuff cuts through the tension and footfalls clamour down the stairs. The front door opens and closes, leaving you to wallow in the dark cloud left behind. Mr. Laufeyson’s long exhale blows up the staircase ahead of him and you listen to his approach.

You look at the door, expecting him to come through any moment. But it isn’t that one he opens. It’s the study door that slams with a terrible force. His growl permeates through and the adjoined door clicks as the lock is flicked into place. You stare at it and frown.

You don’t suppose his mood will thaw any time soon.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson does not emerge for supper. You barely eat anything yourself as anxiety tortures your stomach. You clean up after yourself and retreat upstairs.

You near the study, lingering before the door as you pluck up your courage. You tap softly on the wood. There’s no answer. You didn’t hear him go but maybe you missed it.

“I made dinner, Mr. Laufeyson. I’ve left you a plate in the oven,” you speak through the wood, to the ghost on the other side.

You traipse away in defeat. You’re entirely confused. What did you do so wrong? Even before his brother’s unprompted visit, Mr. Laufeyson was coolly apathetic. Yet that morning, in the shower, he’d been on fire, consuming you like flames.

Maybe you’re not good enough. Maybe you didn’t kiss him just right or make the noises he liked. Oh, but how are you supposed to know what to do?

You sit at the writing desk and tap your fingers on your chin. You squirm in your chair as the scene in the shower replays in your head. You tear it apart, trying to pick out the exact moment of your offense.

You shift on the seat and the throbbing pressure in your core ripples through you. Just the thought of his touch has you alight. You touch your hot cheeks and flutter your lashes. You shouldn’t be worried about all that, you should be working on that spread sheet.

You glance over at the study door. The house is stagnant once more. Just like those early days when you made your slow progress with a broom and mop. Something’s gone terribly wrong. Maybe… you should just leave.

You put your fingers mindlessly to the touch pad of the computer. You swirl around the cursor mindlessly. You blow out through your lips and sit up, another fraught peek towards the door.

You bring both your hands over the keyboard. No, you shouldn’t.

You need to figure this out. You need to know what you did, or didn’t do. You can be what he wants you to be, you have to. You have nothing else.

You type, then backspace, then type again. After several times, you hit search. You click through to a site with a black background and gasp at the obscene ads that fill the margins.

You bite down as you try to focus past the small thumbnails. You key into the search bar ‘shower’. You hover your finger over the enter key before you will yourself to hit it.

The search results are just as chaotic. You don’t know what you’re looking for. ‘Best Shower Scenes STEAMY’. Your insides tickle and you squeeze your thighs together. Invisible flames lick at you and cluster in your chest.

You mute the computer as the video loads. The house is so quiet that you’re aware of every creak and crack. You fidget as you sit through the ad of a woman giggling over a URL for meet-ups. You press your hands to your thigh, sitting forward so your weight rests on your pelvis, dampening the tingly heat.

The video begins. A woman with caramel coloured hair and a curvy body. You admire her figure and peer down at your own. Maybe that’s it, maybe you’re not hot enough? You remember how Mr. Laufeyson touched you all over, almost as if he was examining you. Did you disappoint?

You flick your eyes back up as a man enters and they step into the shower booth. You chew your lip as you fixate on his large dick. He’s very big but you think Mr. Laufeyson is too. You’re not sure. This isn’t helping, you still don’t understand anything.

They kiss and fondle each other. You lean forward, watching with a stitch between your brows. The woman drags her hands down the man’s body and gets to your knees. She pumps him with her hand and licks his tip, dragging her tongue down his length. He grabs her head and forces himself into her mouth.

She takes him greedily. Oh. That could be it. Last night, you were so afraid, and you got all teary, and you didn’t know what you were doing.

You watch her as she touches his sack, squeezing then works her hand in tandem with her mouth on his dick. You put your hand to the side of your neck and hold your breath. You wiggle on the chair, the friction making your own arousal more obvious.

Finally, the woman stands, the man lifting her by her hair. He spins her and bends her forward. She braces the wall and as he slaps her ass several times before gripping her hip. He’s so rough. You don’t know if you could handle that.

He slides into her and your mouth falls open. Her thighs quake and your own give a tremble. Your walls clench as the pressure knots in you. The thought of doing that with Mr. Laufeyson both frightens you and excites you.

You twiddle your fingers and blink at the screen. The furrow in your forehead deepens as you lean forward. You put your fingers along the touchpad but don’t press them down.

“Ahem,” Mr. Laufeyson startles you as he clears his throat.

You sit up and quickly hit the X in the corner. Your throat closes as you struggle to breathe, caught but not entirely. He stands in the doorway between the study and library. From that angle, he can’t see what’s on your screen.

“You are working hard,” he muses as he strides in with crossed arms.

“Yes, sir,” you answer breathily. You stare him in the face, too afraid to look anywhere else as your mind dares to imagine the shower again, both of you naked, this time, you’re bent over and he’s behind you. “Um, did you get your dinner?”

You close the laptop as you stand. You wince as the fabric of your panties clings to your wet cunt. You feel like he can see right through you.

“I’m not hungry,” he stops on the other side of the desk.

“Okay,” you swallow and your eyes flit side to side.

“I never told you to come out,” he drops his arms, placing his hand on the desk as he leans over it.

“Pardon?” You blink furiously.

“I said to remain in here until I told you it was safe. If you made my dinner, then you did not obey me.”

“I… Mr. Laufeyson, your brother’s gone–”

“And how could you know for sure if I did not confirm it?” He challenges with a wry tilt in his head. “I’ve been patient, pet, but I think you may require a different sort of discipline.”

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You babble, “I’m sorry–”

“Your apologies grow tiresome,” he huffs and stands straight. “Come here,” he points between him and the desk.

You put your head down and swiftly walk around the desk. He swirls his finger in the air and you turn your back to him. He backs away and rounds to the side of the desk.

“Hands down,” he nods to the desktop.

You press your palms flat, bent slightly at the waist. He considers you and strokes his chin with a hum. He circles the desk and you in a single, patient lap.

“Stay as you are.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you utter.

“Ah, no talking,” he warns, “remember your rules, pet.”

You gulp as he turns and struts away. Is it okay again? You can’t tell. He’s still rigid and painfully formal. He hasn’t touched you, he seems to be avoiding getting close. You stare at the wood beneath your hands and shiver.

You hear him in his study. You glance over as he appears in the door frame, his hands hidden behind him. He tuts. “Head forward.”

You look ahead and focus on the wall. He nears, his shadow skewed in the lamplight. He stands behind you, a foot away and he hums. He clucks and strolls around the desk to face you.

He pulls his hands from behind his back, revealing a thick leather strap. The brown leather is faded and cracked. Your eyes round as you stare at it and he brings it taught between his hands.

“Flogging is historically a long held practice. For the monk in his self-flagellation, for the heathen in his cell, and… for the woman in her disobedience,” he explains as his lips curl. “Spare the rod, spoil the child…” He takes a breath, “and you, pet, are growing spoiled.”

Your lips part but you don’t speak. You must follow the rules. This is the test. If you fail this, then it’s over. If you fail, you have nothing.

He walks along the desk and rounds the corner, brushing by as he purrs, “remember your rules. Not a sound.”

He comes up behind you and you hold your breath. He tugs at the back of your skirt and shudders. He pulls the fabric above your ass, his hand trailing along the back of your panties. He hooks his finger in the elastic and tears them down to your thighs. You quiver and clench your jaw tight, fighting back a squeak.

He stretches the leather across your ass. It’s cool and smooth. You twitch as bumps rise across your skin. He pulls back and you lower your head. You wait. Nothing.

You cautiously raise your chin and look back. He snaps the whip across your ass as you do and you spasm with the hot flash of pain. He points to the wall in a wordless demand. Eye forward. You turn your attention back to the grey blue paint as your eyes glisten. He strikes you again, the agony scalding across the swell of your ass.

Your thighs shake as he pulls back again. You await a third but it never comes. You don’t dare move. He paces behind you. You watch his shadow cast before you and he moves abruptly forward. You bite your tongue as he lashes you again. Harder as he lets out a thick grunt.

Your hands slip and you fall forward. You plant your palms more firmly as you push yourself straight. A fourth comes and sends tendrils down to your toes. You hiss through your teeth, quaking, fighting not to collapse.

You deserve this. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve earned this.

A fifth and your knees knock together. You barely keep afoot as the sixth lands with extra bite. Seven, eight, nine… He lashes you in quick succession, as if he cannot stop himself. The tenth has you heaving, about to vomit with the pain.

He stops himself, his shadow holding up the stap. He lowers it and steps back. He sighs and turns away.

“Tomorrow you will pack for our departure,” he declares, “we leave on Friday.”

We? So you are to go with him. You don’t dare ask or say a single word. You stay as you are, shaking as you roll your eyes back against the flood.

“You will be on your best behaviour,” he warns as he nears the study door, “I trust this lesson will not be forgotten.”

He passes into the study and the door closes harshly. Your legs fold and collapse beneath you. You land in a heap, holding yourself off your ass as you whimper. You won’t ever forget.

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