Yes to be evil but i hope we cry w how much of a bitch leanders real personality is

Kreia and Atton and the Will to Power

I wrote this post years ago on a mostly unused blog so I thought I’d re-share it here, given the number of good recent meta posts I’ve seen within the Knights of the Old Republic (2) fandom - I’d like to throw my hat into the ring and get in on the discussion too. :D 

Kreia and Atton have one of the most interesting relationships in the game because through their interaction, certain core qualities of their characters and an important similarity between them - their uncompromising will to survive - is revealed. I’d like to discuss this cutscene, in which Atton tells Kreia, “You and me - we’re done,” with regard to her blackmailing him into the Exile’s service on Telos (I think the particular version of the scene I’m discussing only occurs if the Exile is Light-sided).

She responds with mocking incredulity that she never “truly held” him, which made him more of a fool than she thought, and goes on to say that it was he who truly held himself because she “once held the galaxy by the throat, as you once held her by the throat and let her die slowly. And your emotion at that point is what you fear.” This is an interesting comparison and perhaps it alludes to Kreia’s feelings about her own brush with the Dark Side and how, like the Light Side, she does not want to be beholden to it or the strong feelings it imparts. She wants to be able to stand back and assess the situation, manipulate it to her liking, and be beholden to none - the Dark or the Light - but herself, despite the fact that she ”wielded power like you cannot imagine,” through which all “was awash with possibilities, spreading outwards, touching everything else.” At this pinnacle of her power, she saw “all that the Force is,” but “only when it was ripped” from her did she “truly see it.”

I’m not sure if my interpretation is what the developers intended, but this experience of hers is something that she seems to be comparing, whether consciously or unconsciously, with Atton’s experience with the unnamed female Jedi. Kreia wielded the great and terrible power of the Dark Side and was unknowingly beholden to it, realizing the extent of her enslavement only when that power was taken from her. After that, she hated the Force and wished to destroy it (or at least that’s my understanding given the few spoilers I’ve encountered by accident, as I am only partway through Dantooine and did Nar Shaddaa first). Atton, on the other hand, was deeply indoctrinated by Sith assassin training which, combined with his righteous fury towards the Jedi, who had deserted the Republic in its hour of greatest need (aside from Revan and Malak and their followers), led him to his fall - but not so far that he could not be saved. Like Kreia, he had a moment of clarity after being deeply affected by the Force - in Kreia’s case, that had involved being severed from it, and in his case, it had involved feeling it for the first time and ultimately deciding to open himself to it to protect the Exile. Kreia’s experience led her to loathe the Force, but Atton’s led him to desire an understanding of it, though not right away - his anger and indoctrination led him to lash out against the compassion of the Light Side that he’d likely held in contempt for some time based on his exposure to Sith teachings and his own hatred for the hypocrisy of the Jedi - like he says to the Exile, he was “afraid” of the Force then and didn’t want to be “changed into something else” (even though the Dark Side was already changing him into something else - he just didn’t have the perspective to see it - and likely considered the Force to be something beyond his ken and better left alone given his hatred for Jedi).

This is why he still killed the unnamed Jedi, even as she opened his eyes to his own Force-sensitive potential and to his future as a mindless tool of the Dark Side, were he not to defect from Revan’s ranks. In his emotional turmoil, he fled to a place where he could hide and remain a non-entity - Nar Shadaa - and indulge the repressed emotional impulses that the unnamed Jedi had reawakened in him. Prior to this encounter he’d been a cold, unfeeling husk for some time now, taking joy only in the deaths of the Jedi he hunted, but most of all in filling them with despair by forcing them to see things from his bleak, depraved perspective before finishing them off - to him, that was the “best part.” The walls of “lust, impatience,” and “cowardice” he’d thrown up in order to confuse Jedi with the chaos and intensity of his “surface thoughts” were not initially true emotions that affected his mental state - they were merely “strong emotions and feelings” he faked to throw his prey off his scent and make them think he was harmless (or, I would argue, a “fool” as Kreia considers him to be - though during the second “listening lesson” with the Exile, she admits that he might be “cleverer than he feigns to be” because of his ability to shield his thoughts).

But Atton ultimately became the mask he wore - the feelings he’d faked to cloak his presence had become a part of him or perhaps, as he says, “Maybe it was always me. It’s hard to tell sometimes. I haven’t known who I am for years.” It would make sense for someone with Atton’s particular combination of virulent hatred and survival instinct to give in to their baser impulses as part of a larger philosophy of uninhibited self-gratification - seeking to satisfy their each and every whim, whether it be murdering Jedi, profligacy at the Pazaak table, or hitting on every good-looking female individual in the vicinity. The emotional walls Atton put up were likely urges repressed by his Sith training, compartmentalized and instrumentalized for assassination purposes. Clearly, Atton has problems controlling his impulses, and although he’d used them as emotional walls merely to confuse his prey during his time as a Sith Assassin, when the unnamed Jedi showed him the Force, all those lusts and cravings melted away to be replaced by “the kind of love where you’re willing to give up everything for someone you don’t even know.”

The compassion the Jedi had shown him was something he didn’t think he could ever deserve, and as much as he hated himself for his actions, his self-pity and instinct for self-preservation would not allow him to take that lesson of compassion to heart. As a result of his encounter with the Force all the feelings he’d previously used as mental walls “kept tumbling out” and he “couldn’t stop feeling things” and he could no longer use them as tools, “orchestrated to get close” to his quarry. That touch of the Force had forced him to confront his true self, a self that desired compassion and love, but had rendered itself undeserving of both and now drowned in “lust, impatience, cowardice.” So despite his disbelief (or desire to disbelieve, as he tells the Exile might have been the case) in the Jedi’s assertion that if he remained a Sith Assassin, Revan would turn him permanently to the Dark Side in the Unknown Regions, he became a scoundrel, loving and fighting fiercely for only himself…until the Exile came along.

Atton thought that “maybe [the unnamed Jedi] had saved me so I could help [the Exile],” and decided to ask the Exile to teach him how to use the Force - “I want to learn how to use the Force to protect you.” It’s interesting how Atton approaches the Force - he’s still wary of it, still constantly reminds the player of the disturbingly invasive powers it confers on sides both Light and Dark (i.e. the injudicious use of Force Persuade), but he’s finally willing to open himself to its inherent compassion because of the connection he feels with the Exile. I think this comes through in his dialogues with her about how the “glow” he sees surrounding her is “inspiring.” She embodies all that the unnamed Jedi had shown him - all that he had recoiled from in righteous anger and fear because it had shown him just how far he had fallen.

The Exile was for Atton, as she was for many of her companions, a mirror in which they saw their true selves reflected back at them. She helped them accept the truth of what they saw as she had done after Malachor and helped them realize what they wanted to see, and how, through compassion, they would behold all they imagined. The Exile was not a mindless devotee of the Republic or an arrogant, inflexible adherent to the Jedi Code - she was a responsible and pragmatic leader who owned the decisions she made and learned from them, an empathetic confidant, a fearless crusader for the downtrodden, and a true and loyal friend. Through her boundless capacity for empathy, she was able to convince them that they were deserving and capable of becoming their best selves.

This is what Atton was so afraid of losing. After he’s told the Exile about his dark past and she has accepted it and his will to atone, he thinks Kreia will no longer be able to hold him in her thrall. But, as Kreia tells him, ”I know what lies buried within you. That you hide with your desperate thoughts, your guilt, your lusts. I can unlock that part of you anytime you wish. It is a simple thing, the human mind, once it feels something strongly, it becomes etched in the memory, the subconscious. Shall I show you? The part of you that hungered to kill Jedi, that took pleasure from it? Or perhaps you will continue to listen to my counsel and I shall ignore your pathetic attempts at freedom.” She is threatening to take away the sense of self the Exile has helped him build - a sense of self that Atton very likely still considers a fragile work in progress. What if it could not withstand exposure to the specific emotion that he felt when he held the unnamed Jedi by the throat just as Kreia had once held the galaxy, an emotion Kreia claimed to be able to summon at will and use to control him? But as Kreia said, she’d never truly held him, it was he who had held himself. Could Kreia really have subdued Atton and made him a slave to her will in this way? I am uncertain. At this point, I believe that Atton’s love for the Exile was a stronger force than either Atton or Kreia realized, and Kreia has been known to bluff. But this was one wager that Atton Rand - notorious gambler - was unwilling to make. The stakes were simply too high and he would not allow himself to lose that sense of self the Exile had helped him build nor his connection to her. And so he remained under Kreia’s control. What did that entail, exactly? I don’t really think the game makes this clear, as I believe Atton had decided at this point that he was with the Exile for the long run, for good or for ill, having decided to open himself to the Force - a power he still didn’t entirely trust - just for her. So there was no need for Kreia to blackmail him into staying. Perhaps Kreia simply wanted him to believe that he would have to do as she asked if the time ever came when she called upon him if he wanted to preserve that sense of self and his connection with the Exile - her well-being and her belief in this best version of himself are what Atton values more than his own life, as is made clear by how many of his Influence opportunities involve trust.

It is interesting, in light of all I have discussed, to reflect once again on the juxtaposition of images Kreia used when comparing Atton to herself - she "once held the galaxy by the throat, as you once held her by the throat and let her die slowly. And your emotion at that point is what you fear.“ Kreia is, I think, revealing something about herself here. As I said before, like Atton, she does not want to be beholden to the thrall of of the Force, and in the moment she held the galaxy by the throat, she was beholden to the Dark Side, just as Atton was when he killed the unnamed Jedi. She, too, fears her "emotion at that point.” The touch of the Force that the unnamed Jedi left in Atton led him to ultimately embrace the Light Side, liberating him from the “lust, impatience, cowardice,” and rage to which he had been shackled for so many years. And the absence of the Force led Kreia to believe that she - and the galaxy as a whole - were better off rejecting both sides of the Force. For each of these characters, a critical encounter with the Force, or lack thereof, threatened to break their sense of self - but because of their dogged will to live, it ultimately led them to remake themselves, for good or for ill. Kreia sees Atton’s brief flirtation with power as crude - he was nothing but a “murderer” giving in to his impulses, while her purpose was to shape the galaxy through the power she amassed. But she has a certain begruding respect for Atton’s unflinching self-preservation, a quality she prizes in herself - he is nothing if not remarkably self-sufficient - “a fool the Force looks out for.” Kreia recognizes in Atton what she knows to be a part of herself, and as is her wont, manipulates him accordingly. There is little the self-reliant fear more than being deprived of their strength of will - the will to be the man deserving of the Exile’s compassion, and maybe someday, her love.

05.14.20

I recently read Lolita, written by Vladimir Nabokov and I have a LOT of thoughts on it. I know it’s considered such a classic, but the plot revolves around pedophilia and, therefore, was very confused by all the hype surrounding it. I decided to finally read it so that I could form a valid opinion on it.

It felt like there was no 'point' to the story or that I had somehow missed it. I read the author’s note that said there is no moral to the story and people looking for one are wasting their time. So I tried to do some research on it online to see what others have said- some people talked about how beautifully it's written and what a good job he did since he's a Russian writer and this was one of his first books in English. I thought about that-- his voice/style IS engaging, however I was utterly bored reading about the actual content, if that makes sense. The narrator/pedo would basically talk shit about these other characters for three literal pages and then MOVE ON and never. mention. them. again. I'm like...wtf was the point of that?! A lot of people called the book really funny and I was like uhhhh I didn't laugh NOT ONCE throughout the whole fucking thing. Some people said the book was amazing bc at the core of it, its a """"""loveeeee"""""" story like the fuck kind of love are you people used to?! It's literally about the descpicable narrator who.. TRIGGER WARNING ***lusts over girls ages 9-14, pursues a "relationship" with (I mean assaults) his 12yo stepdaughter, fucking bribes her w money, emotionally manipulates her (by telling her that if she goes to the police she will be taken away and will be alone forever, and wouldn't it just be better to stay with him), and abuses her daily. On top of that he acts like he's her bf and acts jealous when she starts talking to guys her age! Multiple, multiple fucking times the girl says "yeah well you raped me so the least you can do is give me money/give me this/that". She is aware that she's being taken advantage of, and attempts to exert her own agency in the matter, however she can. He sexualizes her like an object and talks about her in cringey ways like he literally says "oh this beautiful 7th grader, oh the lovely girl-child, the 12 year old with the boxy boyish torso" like ew. Why are you so obsessed with prepubescent bodies**** So fucking pathetic. And you know what? People claim that he's just hopelessly in love bc he DOES talk about her in a loving way (yeah whatever creep) but throughout the entire he book he literally ogles other children. How is that fucking love?! Just bc he found the ONE girl who was actually receptive to his disgusting behavior? Lolita is interesting for people who don’t know how to relate to real people, so they read this book about a pedophile and feel cool for “understanding” him. He’s not likable— he’s self deprecating which people enjoy because instead of having to call him disgusting, he does it to himself and it makes readers sympathize with him. They can therefore "relate" to him since we all love a self hating hero. A lot of people say that it shows us the selfish part of us, that we are willing to do whatever we need to in order to pursue what we want. That we are ultimately narcissists. Yeah maybe men feel that fucking entitled (sorry I'm being sexist) . What fucking responsible adult is willing to ruin and manipulate a child just to fulfill his own depraved fantasies? Because he succeeds in acquiring this little girl, are we supposed to applaud him? Call him smart and badass and a go getter?! He's delusional. When men read the book they relate to the narrator. And when women read it, who do you think they relate to? The female character, the girl ofc-- how to be kept in a helpless situation, keep taking abuse, and to be manipulated into staying. 

I may be looking at this book and analyzing it from a very cultural lens but isn't that the point of a classic? That it transcends time, culture, whatever society you're coming from, whatever perspective you have — it’s supposed to be relatable. In the book, the narrator/pedo brings up all the historical relationships of child brides and little girls being sexualized and he's like "it wasn't wrong then" blah blah I'm like motherfucker, have you considered that we have come away from those times for a fucking reason?! When child marriages were legal, and wherever they still are, it’s not because it isn't an absolutely horrible thing. It is just socially acceptable and that's why people dont speak up about it. When people DO try to speak up about it, they are shunned which leads to others holding their silence on it. I mean, slavery was once legal too.

Oh and another sad thing was that so many readers online were saying that yeah he knows he has a problem, but he really does love her, and what about her?! It's not like she's innocent either (bc how dare she have sex once before, as an experiment)— so basically that makes this 12yo equivalent to this 45 fucking year old manipulative, delusional, pathetic abuser. I think Nabokov also purposely portrayed the girl as extra bratty and insolent bc he didn’t want his readers to see her as innocent or child like in anyway. By making her unlikable, readers begin to sympathize even more for the pedo. People are fucking wild yo, to what extent they are willing to forgive grown ass men and blame little girls. Side note, it's not that I particularly care for the girl character, but I could see through how she was being manipulated and how badly she was trying to escape (she finally does thankfully). My opinion is that if this were a real love story, people would not have given it a second look-- fuck what they say about Nabokov’s writing, it’s BS. Ultimately, my thoughts on it are that people like the book bc they like the authors writing style OR bc they think they're fucking edgy for liking such a controversial book. They probably feel cool that they have gotten through such a taboo/challenging topic without feeling complete disgust for the book and themselves. Multiple articles online have said “if you don’t like the book/are not open to reading it, it’s bc you’re narrow minded and can’t put yourself in uncomfortable positions” like stfuuuuu. They argue that just bc it’s from a wrong/taboo perspective, it’s not enough of a reason to stop you from reading it. They compared it by saying if a murderer wrote a book, is it not worth reading bc murder is wrong? And I understand the argument but that really diminishes the point. The murderer isn't being romanticized; it is pretty clear they are unstable and that we SHOULD NOT BE LIKE THEM.  A person reading about a book that glorifies murder won’t necessarily go out and commit murder. Similarly, a person reading about sexual abuse/rape/pedophilia won’t go out and commit those things, but unfortunately by calling the book beautiful, and the idea compelling, and blaming the victim, you’ve now normalized the idea a little more. You’ve humanized the abuser and made his actions a little bit more acceptable. And that’s where the problem lies. Should a book like this have NOT been written? I wouldn’t jump to that. But the weird, obsessive fascination over it is definitely concerning. And what could have been done differently, anyway? The narrator is already ‘aware’ of his problem and constantly calls himself disgusting. Nabokov doesn’t regret writing it (and why should he, he’s made a ton of fame and money off of it). Having a disclaimer that says “rape is wrong” would be treated like a fucking joke. It’s really up to society and how they feel about it, which is the same as how society has always felt about girls/women. Nothing good. One other thing I came across is that a lot of young women (who ‘should’ hate the book, according to the article) actually really like it. I find that misguided. I know I am judging so hard here but- I feel that these women are the same ones that say they don’t need feminism and they are stuck on this boring ass yet ubiquitous trope of powerful/older/experienced men courting the innocent, dainty yet (somehow still) seductive girl. Have seen that idea MANY fucking times. Yawn. It might appeal to a high schooler but not people who can have two simultaneous thoughts in their brains. My friend Marisol brought up an interesting and valid point about this; she said that some women may have enjoyed the book because “they have been victims of [sexual abuse] and by glorifying something like that, they might subconsciously be convincing themselves that it wasn't as bad and that they're not actually victims of these horrendous crimes”. Lastly, I WILL give the author one credit (no matter how minor)— he doesn’t word the sex/rape scenes in an erotic way. I’m sure there’s a lot of people curious about reading this book cuz they think they will discover soft porn. They will be left feeling disappointed or unaffected after finishing it, which in a way is annoying as well bc youve glazed through and normalized the horror of it without feeling anything. And what’s the point of writing a book? Isn’t it supposed to make you feel? 

Thank you for taking the time to read my rant.

Celestial (FallenAngel!Doflamingo x Reader) CHAPTER 6

Chapter 6: Not the Kind of Date You Were Expecting

~

“A human, Dophiel? Well, this is certainly a turn of events.” You felt Doffy stiffen beside you and, though it was entirely possibly you were imagining it, take a step forward as if to shield you from view. You shook your head. No, you were imagining it. You peered around the angel to inspect the intruder. He was tall, far taller than Doffy, his shaggy blonde head almost brushing the ceiling of your kitchen. Sharp, copper eyes peered from beneath his bangs and his wide mouth was set in an amused smile. His face reminded you of Doffy’s, but rounder, gentler, and he wore a simple white suit, the jacket thrown lazily around his shoulders, which seemed strangely hunched. You thought you saw something shift under the coat, the faint rustling of feathers reaching your ears, but again, you could have been imagining things. “Raziel,” Doffy said. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Raziel? Where had you heard that name before…

The man’s voice echoed in your head again, though his mouth remained firmly shut. It gave you the creeps. “I apologise for my lateness. You know how Father can be.” Doffy lips tightened. “Why are you here, brother?” That was when it clicked. Raziel, an archangel within the teachings of Jewish mysticism, who is the ‘Keeper of Secrets’ and the ‘Angel of Mysteries’… “Woah, woah, woah! Wait a second. No.” Both angels turned to you. “One of you was bad enough. I have a date tomorrow; I do not have time to deal with two of you!” You turned to Raziel, pleading. “Can you just… take him home already? He’s very sorry and he won’t do it again. Just get him out of my house.” Doffy glared at you, and Raziel looked at you apologetically. His voice in your head was kind and sincere, so different from the man standing beside you. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. If he is to return home, he must first be tried in the Supreme Court of Heaven.” You stared at him, incredulous. You were vaguely aware your mouth was hanging open, but your mind was too busy trying to imagine a fleet of angels all in powdered wigs and robes. You heard him chuckle inside your head and you suddenly realised you did not need to say your thoughts aloud for him to hear them. You blushed beet red and cleared your throat. “So, uh, what does that entail exactly?” “He will be tried before a judge and jury, as you would be here on Earth, and they will deem him worthy or unworthy of regaining his Grace.” “His Grace?” “Only those with Grace may enter the Gates of Heaven,” Doffy said, not looking at you as he spoke. “One loses their Grace when their wings are broken. Only God himself can restore it.” Raziel spoke again. “When an angel loses their Grace, they lose their connection to heaven, their power, their immortality. It will all slowly fade away, until they are barely more than human.” Doffy snarled at this. You stared at him curiously. No wonder he was so desperate to go home. You turned back to Raziel. “So when’s the trial?” The sooner you could get rid of your errant angel, the better. “Consider this your official court summons,” said Raziel. “You will both be expected to present your statements seven days from now before the court. A guide will be sent to—” “Wait, what?!” Now you really had to be imagining things. It almost sounded like he’d said… “That’s right,” the voice echoed. “It’s not often we call on human witnesses, but you have been requested to testify as a character witness on behalf of Dophiel.” “But, why me?” you sputtered. “Do I even have a choice in the matter?” “Unfortunately, no.” “What if I don’t want her there?” growled Doffy. “She’ll only be a nuisance.” You glared at him. Who was he to call you a nuisance?! “See, he doesn’t even want me to testify.” “Then I’m afraid, dear brother, your case will be sorely lacking. Your chances of returning to Heaven will be slim without a witness to couch for you.” Doffy’s mouth pressed into a hard, thin line and he said no more. Inside your head, where Doffy couldn’t hear, you pleaded with Raziel. “In case you haven’t noticed, Doffy and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms. His attitude is… abrasive to say the least. I don’t think I’ll be any help to his case.” His voice echoed back, and from the stony expression on Doffy’s face, you knew you were the only one who could hear it. “You have spent the most time with him as of late. You are the only one equipped to provide an accurate judgement of his character.” “But I don’t even know him! He refuses to even acknowledge my existence most of the time.” He sent you a mental image of him shrugging. “You are not dead. That, when it comes to my brother, speaks volumes.” He left you to ponder his words and turned back to Doffy. “I’ll see you in a week, brother. And you, Miss [Name].” And then, with the sound of rushing wings, he was gone. You and Doffy stood silently for a long minute. The angel was glaring at the empty space where Raziel had stood, jaw muscles working furiously as he ground his teeth. You were busy pinching yourself, hoping you had somehow just fallen asleep at your desk while reading one of your angel books. No such luck. When you said you had a date, a date with the Supreme Court of Heaven was not exactly what you’d had in mind. You sighed heavily and rubbed your temples. “Everything would have been so much easier if you’d just fallen in somebody else’s back yard,” you muttered. “I didn’t ask to land in yours,” he snapped. “What, there’s no steering on the train to perdition?” you scoffed. “There’s no train to perdition, what are you—?” “I was being sarcastic!” you cried in exasperation. “Maybe if you spent more time learning about humans instead of hating them, you wouldn’t have such a stick up your ass all the time!” “There is not a stick up my—” “Don’t,” you cried, holding up a hand, “finish that sentence. Please.” He scowled at you. “You humans are the strangest creatures,” he said. “I will be glad to finally be rid of you.” “And I, you,” you hissed. “You best make yourself useful at the trial then.” “Oh, trust me, I’ll give you a glowing review if it means getting you out of my hair.” The two of you glared at each other for a long moment, then huffed and stormed off in opposite directions. Doffy sat down on the couch and turned the TV to a news station, immediately falling silent as he grew absorbed in the report. You stomped upstairs to your room, slamming the door behind you and collapsing face first onto your bed. Out of all the backyards in all the world, it had to be yours. Out of all the angels in heaven, it had to be him. You were never one to believe in fate, but the circumstances had you wondering what you had done to piss off the universe in such a way. You sat up in bed, staring at the wall and pondered. Then, for the first time since you were a child, naïve and so full of imagination and hope, you pressed your palms together and prayed. Your parents didn’t raise you religious, but you had once resorted to asking God for a kitten when your parents had refused your begging. It didn’t work, naturally, but maybe now He would be more inclined to listen to your words. After a few moments though, you only felt silly and dropped your hands back onto the sheets. Even if God was listening, with your present company, you were sure He wanted nothing to do with you. Friday dawned bright and sunny, but your mood when you woke was sour. The remnants of a dream you couldn’t quite remember clung to your subconscious, trying to coax you back to sleep, but you could hear Doffy in the kitchen downstairs and you were loath to leave him unchaperoned in case he put his fist through the microwave because it looked at him funny. He already gave the toaster the death glare every time he passed it because it once startled him (though he refused to admit it) by popping its toast while his back was turned. You’d had to convince him you weren’t secretly plotting to kill him with the kitchen appliances. You sighed as you heard something smash downstairs and threw the covers back over your head. Next week could not come fast enough. You only hoped you had some sanity left by then. When you finally got downstairs, you found your favourite mug in pieces on the kitchen floor. When you looked to Doffy for an explanation, he only glared back. It looked like he had been trying to make coffee (you were pretty sure you’d accidentally gotten the angel addicted to it now) but when you went to smell the concoction in the pot, it was so bitterly strong you almost gagged. Twenty minutes later, the rancid brew had been tipped down the drain and a new pot was now steaming beside you as you sipped from your second favourite mug, the remains of your favourite one laid to rest at the bottom of the trash can. You hadn’t managed to coax an explanation from Doffy as to how it ended up broken, but you had the sneaking suspicion he had been trying to make peace with you. Well, it was the thought that counted. But he’d have to try harder than that if he wanted to get on your good side before the trial. “I’m going out tonight,” you said suddenly over the kitchen table and he glanced up from his coffee. “This… date?” “Mhm. You’ll be here alone, so don’t get into any trouble. I don’t know how long I’ll be, maybe all night if it, uh… goes well.” He scowled at you. “Why would you…?” he began but then he seemed to realise the hidden meaning behind your words and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Lust is a sin,” he said coldly. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t need a lecture from you. You’re hardly one to talk. Isn’t pride also a sin, Dophiel?” “Hmph,” was all he said before burying his face in his mug again. That was the extent of your conversation that day, at least until it was time to get ready for your date. Law had texted you earlier with a ‘Can’t wait to see you, I’ll be there at seven’ that made your stomach flutter with nerves. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on an actual date—at least, not one that didn’t end in a one night stand with you sneaking out in the middle of the night because the mere thought of waking up next to someone petrified you. Even the number of one night stands had dwindled down to nothing in recent years. So, saying you were nervous was an understatement. But this was the first time in a long time you had let yourself have romantic and—dare you say, sexual—feelings for anyone, and damn it, with everything that had been happening lately, you deserved to have a little fun! You nodded resolutely to yourself in the wardrobe mirror. You were ready. You had spent a long time debating what to do with your hair and makeup, but in the end, you settled on a minimalist approach to keep the dress to focus of the ensemble. You took a deep breath. It was almost seven. Your phone buzzed in your clutch and you fished it out, rolling your eyes as Nami’s text lit up the screen. If I don’t get all the delicious details in the morning, I’m disowning you. Have fun, girl! ;D You snorted, dropping your phone back into your clutch and snapping it shut. You took one last glance at yourself in the mirror, tucking away a stray hair that had escaped its pins, before finally deciding it was time to make your way downstairs and wait for Law to arrive. Doffy was absorbed in the evening news report again and barely noticed you enter the room, but when he finally did, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You smiled nervously, doing an awkward twirl. “How do I look?” He inhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing. “Like sin,” he said, the dark tone of his voice sending a shudder through your spine. You both stared at each other for a few more long moments, a strange tension in the air, when suddenly it was broken by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. You both turned to look at the front door as not long after, the doorbell interrupted the silence. Doffy was on his feet in a second, on high alert, eyes wide and body tense as if ready to fight. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” “Do not answer that door,” he said, his voice hushed and missing its usual venom. It almost sounded like he was… afraid. “I kind of have to,” you said. “My date’s behind it.” You made to answer the door but he caught you by the wrist, his grip almost bruising. “Hey, what the hell!?” “Your date is not who you think he is,” he said cryptically. You tugged your arm out of his grasp. “What, you can read minds now too? Does he have bad intentions? Well, news flash, you’re not my father, I can make my own decisions about who I spend my time with.” Doffy’s jaw only tightens as he stares at the door, the bell ringing again. This time, he didn’t try to stop you when you walked over to answer it. Law greeted you with a smile, standing casually on your porch with his hands in his pockets. He looked like absolute sex on legs with the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off his tattoos, and more black lines marked the sliver of tanned chest revealed by his unbuttoned collar. All thoughts of Doffy’s strange reaction were suddenly gone from your mind as he pulled you in to plant a lingering kiss on your cheek. “Ready to get going?” he asked. He glanced over your shoulder and froze suddenly, his eyes growing wide. You followed his gaze and rolled your eyes at what you found. “Oh. Sorry, this is my cousin. He’s visiting from Europe.” Law didn’t relax, standing stiffly as he stared the opposing man down. “I see,” he said, and there was a strange undertone to his voice. “Where in Europe?” Doffy said nothing, meeting Law’s stare with defiance, hands curling into fists. “Sweden,” you said quickly when it looked like Doffy wasn’t going to respond. “He’s just here for the week.” “Nice country,” Law replied, his eyes never leaving the angel. There were a few more moments of awkward staring, then you cleared your throat, catching Law’s attention. “So, uh… shall we get going them?” He blinked. “Oh. Yes.” He offered you his arm and you took it gratefully, letting him lead you out the door. As you pulled the front door closed behind you, you cast one last glance at Doffy, but he was too busy glaring daggers into the back of Law’s head to notice your not-so-subtle reminder to behave while you were gone. You sighed and let the door fall shut behind you, hoping to God that when you came home, you still had a home to return to. “Sorry about him,” you said. “He’s kind of an ass.” Understatement of the year right there. Law laughed, seemingly to relax now he wasn’t being scrutinised but a seven-foot Swedish model. “Don’t worry about it,” was all he said, but you could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. But he didn’t let the strange encounter ruin the night, with dinner and dancing that had him sweeping you—quite literally—off your feet. When finally, he pulled up in front of your house late that night, the windows dark, you realised it was the most fun you’d had in a long time and… you didn’t want it to end. “Do you… maybe want to come inside?” you offered, glad for the darkness that concealed your flushed cheeks. Law chuckled, bringing up a tattooed hand to caress your cheek. “You make a tempting offer, [Name]-ya,” he said, and you shuddered as his thumb ran over your cheekbone. “But I don’t think your cousin likes me very much. I wouldn’t want to incur his wrath.” Your heart sank as you remembered that you were, indeed, harbouring a rebel angel in your very own home. As much as your hormones were urging you to just jump Law’s bones already, you didn’t much fancy getting it on with the ears of God listening in. Talk about awkward. You sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t blame you.” “Perhaps, next time,” he chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. It was slow and passionate, and seemed to harbour all his hidden wants and desires, and had your body screaming at you to just take him here in the front seat. You pulled away reluctantly and smiled. “Next time,” you said. “I’ll call you.” “I look forward to it.” You climbed out and gave one last shy wave as he pulled out of the driveway, before trudging up the front steps. You pulled out your keys and unlocked the door, only to be met with a shadowy figure in the hallway. You screamed and dropped your keys, only to realise seconds later that it was just Doffy. “Jesus, Doffy! How many times have I told you not to do that?” He looked down at you, a look of disgust on his face. “You reek of him,” he said simply, before turning and storming away. You watched him go with utter bewilderment. Next Thursday could not come fast enough.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5