#and the threat of something else

[ctimenefic]

i’m obsessed w ur mean dom george and his boy scout knots, even more so w the events of this weekend and the weird amount of flirting him and max have been doing recently!! i could totally be barking up the wrong tree with gax vibes but they have been really fun this year

Okay forgive me nonny for typing directly into the answer box, the typos will be horrendous, but I'm in a tiny french café right now and unfortunately dom george gax has seized my mind so:

Max Verstappen propping up the VIP bar at the Bellagio is not George's problem at 9.04 on Monday, when his hangover is beating a tattoo between his eyebrows that even his largest pair of sunglasses can't hide. His GPDA hours are strictly 9-5, Wednesday through Sunday. On Mondays, he gets peace, he gets quiet, he gets to order precisely one hair of the dog Bloody Mary and crunch through the celery in private.

Max orders another gin and tonic without tearing his eyes from the door, and George sighs.

He'd texted himself, last night, somewhere between the first club and the second. Assumed, naturally, that Danny's one-man tour of the US would have to hit Vegas for Max's fourth, even if he was conspicuously absent from the race itself. But when he checks now, there's still no reply.

His "G'morning" rumbles out, frightfully inarticulate, throat still whisky-burnt. Max spares him a bleary glance.

"Is it?" He sounds dopey drunk. His mouth looks sticky. George's mum loves a G&T too; she used to tuck him in at night, suddenly fond and warm and cuddly, and the smell would tickle his nose, comforting and disorienting in equal measure. It's never the gin that lingers, always the lime and the lemon. Max should switch to Hendricks, with its cucumber twist. It would suit him better.

"Are you staying here?" he asks. Max blinks, makes a nod that's half a shrug. Good enough. "Are you packed? When's your flight?"

"It's my plane," Max says mulishly, like he hasn't got at least three friends - or maybe it should be colleagues at this point - booked in for AirMax. Not George, of course. George is travelling with Toto. He's quite looking forward to it, ten hours in quiet approval, thumbing through The Times on an iPad, starting from the Sport section.

He doesn't bother pointing out the obvious, but he does allow himself a couple of disapproving tuts. It's surprising when Max's shoulders curl, slightly, a flush crawling up from under the collar of his hideous team jacket.

George checks his watch. He's got time, he supposes, to play the good Samaritan.

(When Max's red eyes flick back to the door, he thinks he might've done it anyway, his fifteen minute buffer be damned)

"Let's get you to bed, then, shall we?" It doesn't take much to haul Max upright. They're all easy enough to throw about, if you've got the strength. But he's not expecting Max to tuck into his side, nod into his shoulder and chest.

He manoeuvres them both to the lifts with minimal interruption, which is a relief. Max is more pliable than at the bar, but practically useless. He's on one of the keycard-only floors, because of course he is, four time champ and maddeningly casual about it. George has to rummage through his pockets for it; Max makes an insultingly shocked noise when George slides long fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. "Don't get excited," he scolds.

Something twitches under his fingertips. The firm hard line of the keycard is nudged into his grip.

George raises his eyebrows, tilts his chin, and turns to tap it, secure their no-stop ride through a ludicrous number of floors.

Then he spins back, and Max's inordinately large mouth is fastened to his jaw.

Detaching him takes some effort. "We are going to bed," Max argues, as George cranes his neck away.

The lifts had seemed too big before, American big, a fun house of mirrors exaggerating the gilt and gaud of it all. Now he could do with a couple of square miles more between him and the drunk determined look in Max's eye.

He's looking straight at George, but not like he's ever looked at him before. There's nothing to recognise in those eyes.

("I saw Max in the bar," he'll tell media in three days, a wry smirk on like cheap perfume. "But he didn't see me." And then he'll get the recognition he wants, surprise and a flicker of heat, quickly doused. A bit mean, to do it for the cameras. But he'll know by then, that Max likes it mean.)

"No," he says now. He fits his hand across Max's chest, between the swell of his pecs. Palm against his sternum, thumb and fingertips pressed to his collarbones. The span of it makes Max look small. His eyes have gone lidded.

"No," he says again, and presses firmly. Max is lax against the mirrored wall, mouth still open. Drunk, but neither of them are passing a sobriety test right now. George's driver is probably getting a coffee right now, checking the time. George won't make him wait. He's considerate like that.

Four floors zip by in quick succession.

"Not until I say," he tells Max, firm. Forgiving.

He steps into Max's space slowly. Makes him wait, straining against the pressure of George's hand, until he deigns to lean down and lick into that gin-sour mouth.

Max is sloppy, uncoordinated. George keeps his hand where it is but lets Max grab at his waist, his arse. He grinds like a puppy when George slips a thigh between his, but his dick's either even smaller than the paddock gossip says, or suffering from one too many doubles.

It doesn't matter. It's always been enough for George to be wanted. To grant, or withhold.

It doesn't even sting now, when they're surprised to want him. All of his victories will always be a shock.

He stops Max from straying up his jawline or down his neck. He doesn't want to spend his flight sticky, grime against the prickle of a fresh shave. Keeps it to kissing, a light nip at Max's bee-stung bottom lip when he gets pushy.

He's got one eye on the dial, though, so when the door opens on Max's floor, with its implausible colonnade, George has stepped back, just a friendly finger and thumb holding Max's chin. The blue of his irises has almost disappeared behind the black of his pupil.

"Bed," George orders, sharp, and Max stumbles out with more speed than George thinks he'd get sober. Sober Max would fight all the way down; it'd take hours to get him sweet. It'd be time well spent.

He follows at his own pace, pleased to see Max holding the door open for him, hands shoved deep into his pockets in a poor show of casualness. It's lost the second George steps inside and Max is on him again, fingers scrabbling to pull George's shirt out of his pressed slacks.

When he pushes Max off this time, he wraps his hand against the base of his throat. Squeezes, just a little.

"Shirt. Jeans. Off. Bed," he orders, clipped and quiet. Max looks delightful when they hit home, stunned and open and young. George quite badly wants to put his thumb on Max's tongue, watch him drool around it. But he's being good; he's got a plane to catch. He holds himself still for the clumsy minutes it takes Max to comply, waits until Max is flat on the bed, duvet kicked down to the foot of the bed.

Bless him, he's still soft in his boxers. But his face is enough for George to know.

Daniel had liked it too, when George had put him on his back and told him to stay still. That cocky grin wiped off his face for a long minute, brown eyes blown wide. Maybe that's their problem, Max and Danny. No one to give the orders.

He allows himself just this: a trail of fingers, up the length of Max's leg, over the meat of his thigh, the softness of his stomach. A flick against a hard nipple, and a light chuckle at the full body jerk Max makes under him.

And then, with a flourish worthy of a Vegas magician, he yanks the duvet up to Max's neck. "Sleep it off, you madman."

Max's fury is a series of choked, inarticulate noises George would relish extracting in other circumstances. Luckily, Max has not regained any of his mobility; he fights against the duvet, but George has easily enough time to tuck himself up against his waistband, hidden by the fall of his trousers, and make it to the door.

"Congratulations again," he throws back, before it closes behind him. He finds he means it.

He's on the pavement, monogrammed carry on in hand, just as his driver pulls up. He makes a note to tell Alex, with some elisions. He could use a reminder of the value of punctuality.

There's a sign on the freeway, just before the airport. "What happens in..." and so on. Somehow, he's not convinced Max will see it that way come Qatar. But-

It lingers, the sight of Max's face. Not spitting angry, or dumb with lust, the need to submit. But tired and empty and hopeful nonetheless, eyes fixed on the entrance of the bar.

Disappointed not to see you in Vegas, he texts Daniel as Toto and Susie settle in opposite him. You should make it up to me.

That, Danny replies to.

to my winner? 👅👅💦

Yes, George types. Both of us.

[ahamkara-apologist]

okay disclaimer: ik that categorizing female characters as the 'mom friend/figure' is a legit disease in fandom caused by general misogynistic views of female characters, and it's something that personally greatly irritates me bc its not only awful to do, it also tends to ruin the characters its put upon. ESPECIALLY in D2, which is outstanding in its cast of strong female characters

however. in the case of Eramis, I do believe that the fact that she was a mother and is a genuinely caring, nurturing person at heart is something that is a deeply important core part of her character, as well as thematically important to the future of the Eliskni moving forward. It's important because in her case, I believe that her motherly inclinations are why, pre-Witness-whispering-through-the-Darkness, Eramis was such a successful kell- because unlike some other kells who sought a future for the Eliksni via domination, her main focus for them was to create a haven for her people that could be defended from Lightbearers. Riis-Reborn wasn't something to sniff at- it was the closest thing to an actual Eliksni city in a very long while. What got her was her trauma of the Whirlwind and her desire to destroy the Traveler to level the playing field for everyone involved- trauma that the Witness preyed upon in order to get to us. Like a parasite, seeking its secondary host. Eramis certainly is not the only Eliksni who lost her family during the Whirlwind, but I think that her specific brand of anger is closest to that of a mother lion whose cubs are in danger, and is lashing out in a furious fight-or-flight reflex at anything that she perceives as a threat. It's just that in this case, her 'cubs' were the Eliksni as a whole, and the threat she perceived before the Witness started torturing her was the Traveler.

I also think that her relationship with parenthood also makes for a very interesting character contrast to Misraaks (aka the other successful kell viewed as a source of hope for the Eliksni), and helps to set them up as antiparallels to each other. Eramis was a gentle, nurturing mother with a reverence for the Traveler who turned into the bitter, cunning warrior we see now when she lost access to her wife and children; Misraaks was a fearsome, ruthless pirate before he became a father, which gentled him and turned him towards being more pious. Eramis represents the old ways, and offers hope to the Eliksni who cannot bear to cohabitate with humanity; Misraaks represents a change in the tide, and kells the open-minded Eliksni who are willing to lay down their arms to live among the humans of Sol. Misraaks is of Light (change, forgiveness, moving forward), while Eramis is of Darkness (memory, control, looking back). They're opposites in every way except for the fact that both of them were/are amazing parents, and I'd argue that their ability to nurture and overlook others is what led to their success as kells.

Most importantly, however, is their relationship to Eido, who represents the future of the Eliksni. Misraaks was her father, and he did his best to raise her to be kind and openminded, but he also shielded her from the horrors of the past a little too well. She's outgrown that, and now that she's strong enough to handle said horrors, Eramis has been acting as a mentor to fully introduce her to the tragedy of what she lost and why elder Eliksni are so angry about it- and I don't think that she would have been receptive to Eido attempting to talk to her if it weren't for the fact that under all of her prickly armour, she's still that nurturing person at heart. It's her desire to care for others and to see a better future for her people that has kept her going despite her having no hope for herself, and it's that loving heart that has saved herself and her people from utter destruction at both our hands and Fikrul's- because if she didn't look at eido and go 'oh this child is the future of our people and i must protect her with my life', then both her and the rest of House Salvation would have been marked for death. And now here she is, continuing to care for Eido even as her father declines by telling her stories about Riis and helping her track down an apothecary to try to cure him, despite her not believing in his ways. I don't think it's entirely because she used to be a mother, but...I do think that it's playing a huge role in it.

(I also think it's personally fascinating to see how someone who used to be known for being a doting, sweet mom to her hatchlings and a caring mate to her wife can turn into someone who's a terrifying warrior on the battlefield and a cunning, politically saavy ruler, but even then, that doesn't surprise me all that much- if you've got a dearth of experience wrangling hatchlings, then being kell of a house is basically just wrangling a bunch of grown-up hatchlings. Same principles, just upped a level or two in complexity.)

[augustameretrix]

I think this one line in episode 3 sums up what didnt work for me in season 2 and that is the idea that the arcane problem is not eminently political

[aaandbackstabbed]

Goldie: When we first met, your uncle looked at me the way every woman wants to be looked.

Webby: And how’s that?

Goldie: With fear in his eyes.

[padmerrie]

sasuke&!

comfort drawing my comfort characters using a panel from my comfort manga

bookends au

[markiafc]

it didn't hit me as hard as i was watching, but hours later, this is still the moment i keep thinking about. it's scary and the presence of this sudden, unprecedented power feels creepy ("we're dealing with a bad mofo here." + "i saw it. [...] it's the end. we're dead. we're all dead." + "the sky bleeds, the ground quakes. it's cosmic."); but it's exhilarating as well. maybe he's one of good guys, as sam says. but he's definitely not nice and dean is entirely at his mercy.

[eggcats]

not to "uwu" Alastor in any way, but it's WILD to me how many people act like him asserting dominance to Husk as a "omg he's the worst! Husk is so innocent!!! Alastor is just as bad as Valentino!!" esp when in comparison to the V's (and to Angel and Valentino)

bc like, Husk WAS ALSO AN OVERLORD. HE ALSO BOUGHT AND SOLD SOULS. HE GAMBLED THEM, WHICH IS ALMOST WORSE, BECAUSE IF I SOLD MY SOUL TO ONE PERSON I DONT WANT THEM TO JUST SELL IT TO THE NEXT HIGHEST BIDDER!

like the 2 aren't really comparable - it's heavily implied/speculated that Val in some way tricked Angel in his contract, meanwhile Husk gambled and lost and sold his soul to Alastor to keep his powers as an overlord, just without the title or souls

I'm not saying it's not a bit fucked up with Alastor's threat to Husk and Husk's fear, I get that 1000%. But sometimes I feel like Husk fans who hate Alastor forget that Husk landed HIMSELF in that position and Alastor just took advantage of it - he could have just lost everything INCLUDING his power instead

Like he says it himself, "I sold my soul to keep my power" bro knew what he was getting into - he ALSO owned people's souls the SAME as Alastor

I'm not saying Alastor is innocent, or he's secretly a good guy, or that you even need to like him - but the hypocrisy gets me here bc we don't KNOW how Husk was as an overlord, but him being an overlord doesn't make him an innocent victim in this!

[popponn]

there is something about how when anime official art gets yoichi right fashion wise it's always a comfy bf look like look at him

very fluffy. very huggable. i want to poke and pinch his cheeks. also he often has those lil blushies when he eats and for some reason it's cute. the gap moe between on field and off field is still something else to see each time i remember it. i love it ofc 💚 but it's still something else

[mitskiplier]

hear me out guys… casual by chappell roan x brocedes edit

[gabbingwaves]

Jiyan's most dire foe yet: A sapient bubble.

[transingthoseformers]

Hear me out, my idea on ROTB!Mirage who used to be a spy and Optimus calling his trauma out in a effort to help him:

Optimus: Well, I did hear that you didn't have…the kindest of mentors.

Mirage: *shrugs* Yeah, but it's whatever man. I'm not a spy anymore.

Optimus: But that same mentor would've gone to war if someone hurt you.

Mirage: silent before he turns to Optimus What're you getting at, Prime?

Optimus: My main question is, well, how's the guilt for putting yourself first?

Mirage: ...You are too fucking loud right now.

Optimus: How am I-?

Mirage: SHUT UP. I can confront that when I'm older, until then, shut your fucking mouth about what happened on Cybertron or I swear to Primus, I will blow your spike off.

Damnnnn

That's gotta hurt, because I understand that

I understand the idea of a mentor having fucked you up but still cared deeply for you

And I understand that feeling of "I will deal with that later". until later comes.

Optimus is trying, he's trying

Oh mirage

[kuppikahvia]

i love finnish slang culture so much like for example somehow we think "mielipide" (opinion) is too long of a word and just shorten it to mp (and not only just in text but out loud too), and then we just simply disregard any inflections for the next word

so instead of "[mikä on] mielipiteesi tuoleista?" ([what's your] opinion on chairs?) we would only say "mp tuolit" (opinion chairs) and i love it

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I have a question: in the lights out au, did Wally ever attacked/snap at anyone for Barnabys arm? He seems like the violent type🤔

oh no! never! he's not the violent type At All - with aus, i like to adhere to canon as much as possible, and from what i can gather... Wally is quite the pacifist!

so in this au, he's occasionally violent, but only by Necessity. out of a need to protect his friends. he doesn't enjoy it in the least, and in the early stages of the timeline, he himself got hurt quite a bit due to his hesitance to fight back / inherently peaceful nature. it takes him many years to get to the point where he attacks perceived threats on sight. it doesn't come naturally to him, and he Never looks forward to it - even when he's used to it. he avoids conflict when he can & does his best to prevent it

[kentopedia]

it takes less effort to keep your mouth shut than it does to be a horrible person, and i hope people are aware that cruelty gets you nowhere.

[brutal-nemesis]

Since you suggested asks for the demon Castys AU...

I'd love to see if Neteri would let him outside like she did with Erebus, and how he would act during the outing, and find out what his reasons might be for not stubbornly fighting her at every turn. Or maybe he does take the chance and run for it? I'm mostly just curious how that scenario would play out.

Sorry this took so long but it's 3.5k words of these two being goobers so I hope that makes up for the wait!

←Previous - Castys & Terror AU Masterlist - Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: some dehumanization associated with slavery, threatened vivisection, noncon touching (unsexy), mentioned noncon surgery, mentioned aphobia

"I thought this was supposed to be, like, a good day for me."

"It is!"

"Put the fucking leash away, then."

"Maybe if you actually behaved for me, I'd consider it, but you're not exactly the most trustworthy, Castys."

Castys rolled his eyes, grumbling. Neteri was the one who'd fucked up his crazy arm surgery and let that creepy bitch H-something come in and nearly strip him naked, but, sure, he was the one being ridiculous. "I guess, but I never even said I wanted to leave the palace. I just wanted delicious street food. You're the one who's deciding to take me outside."

Neteri sighed. "Have you ever even had street food?"

"…No. I just, uh…" Castys scratched the back of his head. "It…it always smelled good from the window of the castle. But my parents wouldn't let me go and try it. Said it was 'unbefitting of my station'." He snorted. "Like I'd ever been up to their standards anyway."

Neteri gave him a sympathetic smile. "I figured it was something like that. Well, what you don't know is that it's best to eat street food when it's fresh. It wouldn't be as good if I just brought it back to you. Plus, I think part of the experience is eating it on the street! Well, not in the street, you don't want to get hit by carts-"

"That much was obvious, thanks." Castys weighed his options. Stay here and think of something else he wanted, or agree to humiliation and eat delicious hot food on sticks? Sure, his magic tongue made everything taste good, but what he wanted was variation, something he'd never tasted before. Those mysterious smells that always wafted up to his window. Fuck, he was already salivating a bit. It didn't help that he hadn't eaten much last night in anticipation of today. "Fine. We can go."

"Great! You won't regret it, I promise!" She said that like Castys wasn't already regretting it a bit, feeling the weight of the chain as she attached it to his new metal collar. The weird red arm she'd given him turned the same shade of brown as the rest of him pretty soon after he got it, but after a few days he'd managed to make it turn red again and grow claws when he wanted it to, and the first thing he did was use the claws to rip his stupid collar off. Neteri didn't exactly appreciate that, and, after spending the night with his wrists chained behind his back, he was gifted a thick metal collar in the morning, which was just…lovely.

Maybe she was right about him not being trustworthy.

"So, what, we're gonna walk around and I'm gonna be your little slave boy?" Castys asked as they made their way through the palace's hallways.

Neteri shrugged. "Something like that. People aren't really going to pay you any mind. Slaves are common enough here."

"Do other people take their slaves for walks like dogs?"

"No, because other people aren't as nice as me," Neteri said proudly.

"Right, of course. I'm very grateful that you cut my arm off and then did a shit job of putting a new one on."

"Okay," Neteri sighed, "I get it. How about I turn the leash invisible, is that enough for you?"

Castys didn't give much of a shit about what random city people thought, mainly just bothered by the pull of the thing on his neck, but…"If you do are you still gonna drag me around by it? It'd look pretty fucking stupid."

"I guess not, so…here." She grabbed his right hand, the links of chain sort of balled up between their palms. "That's not too much touching for you, is it?"

"I can live with it." It was a hell of a lot better than the alternative, and he didn't mind his hands being touched, really. He had to shake a lot of hands with a lot of random people back in his old life, so he was used it. Neteri did her invisible-leash magic, and they continued on their way.

Outside was bright, which was not surprising, but he still had to blink a few times. Fuck, he…he forgot how nice the sun felt. He hadn't even considered the actual outside part of being outside, and it was pretty nice. The sun, the birds, the salty sea breeze, the little lady tugging him along to somewhere…

"So where exactly are we going?" he asked, glancing down streets as they passed them by.

"The seaside market. They have the best food stalls in the city. I don't really have a particalur one in mind, though, so if you see something you want just let me know."

"Sounds good." Castys's stomach grumbled, and he found himself feeling a bit excited. He was going to get good food and get to look at the ocean, which he'd always had a fascination with. He made trips to the seaside when he could back home, but there was always a part of him that longed to hop on a boat and sail away. He…he could do that today, if he played his cards right. Get away from Neteri somehow and stow away until he got discovered and then be forced to work so he didn't get thrown overboard-

Wait, why did his escape daydream end in him basically being a slave again? Could he really not imagine just being free? He tried, but he realized he had no idea what he would do. Freedom to do what he wanted was sort of a foreign concept, now that he thought about it. Most of his life had been dictated by his parents, his future set in stone, never allowed room to even dream of another destiny. But then that other destiny came and it was a brand on his chest and a metal collar around his neck and he still didn't have control over a single fucking thing.

And you would think the idea of finally having control would be attractive but it wasn't it was overwhelming and nauseating and he was a little relieved when the ship's captain caught him and told him to scrub the deck because at least he knew what he needed to do he didn't have to sit there and try to come up with something he'd never had to before he probably wasn't even good at it he wasn't built for it he was just supposed to be-

"-ou alright? Castys?" Neteri was looking up at him, concern in her eyes. She'd pulled them into a quiet side street without him realizing it.

His mouth was dry, and he wondered if he'd been breathing quickly. He swallowed. "Um, yeah, I think I just…got overwhelmed for a second." He plastered a smile on his face. "I'm fine now."

Neteri frowned slightly. "If you say so. Just let me know if this is too much and you want to go back, okay?"

Castys huffed and rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I'm not gonna want to go back."

"I suppose you won't. But, just so you know," she took a step closer, and then another, backing him against a wall as her arm rose up to pin down his neck, "if you try to run, there will be consequences." All the kindness was gone from her voice, her words as cold as her gaze. "No one will help you, and, if they do, they will be breaking the law. You are legally my property, no matter if you believe it or not. And when you are caught, which you will be," her other hand slid under his shirt, pressing against his stomach, and Castys couldn't help but tense up, "I will cut you open and take a good, long look at all of your organs." Her fingers slid upwards, the lightness of her touch making his skin crawl. "Is that clear?" Her hand stopped above his heart, which was pounding a lot faster than he'd like it to.

His eyes darted around, searching for someone, anyone who was watching, who saw him being fucking threatened in broad daylight. But no one gave a shit. That stupid fucking collar was all they needed to see, and suddenly this was okay. He was less than human, after all. Left with no other choice, Castys looked Neteri in the eye and nodded. "Y-yes. Yes, ma'am."

Neteri's demeanor changed completely, and she stepped back, beaming. "Good boy!" She took his hand once more, pulling him along like none of that had just happened. "We're almost there! I'm sure you're hungry."

Castys's appetite had disappeared, but smelling things would probably bring it back, so he nodded. "I'm known for my huge stomach, so you better be ready." This was supposed to be his day, so Neteri better be ready to get him whatever he damn pleased.

Just as soon as he shook off the feeling of her hand under his shirt.

Finally, the buildings gave way to the vast expanse of the ocean, the docks stretching out into the blue crowded with sailors and workers, crates of cargo and coils of rope, the stalls lining the edge of the street busy with vendors advertising their food to hungry passerby. All it took was for Castys to lay eyes on a beautiful, glistening skewer of beef for his appetite to come roaring back. He pointed at it, excited for the first time in ages.

"I've found our first target."

They wove through the crowd, waiting in line after line as Castys saw another thing he'd like to try, only stopping once they couldn't carry any more. They settled down on a ledge by the docks, and Castys took a moment to go over their haul.

His first love, the beef skewer, which he'd had a few bites of in line for other food. The meat had melted in his mouth, juicy and spicy and just pure bliss. Then, there were fried shrimp with a curry sauce all wrapped up in a flaky flatbread, a bowl of noodles stir-fried with pork and vegetables, sticks of crispy potato with a garlic sauce, and a thick mango and yogurt drink.

Every bite was better than the last, and Castys couldn't help but kick his legs back and forth a little bit as he chewed. Neteri watched him with a warm smile, clearly enjoying her food as well. Castys's eyes wandered as he ate, and he ended up watching a strong sailor lady unloading some cargo. She made moving those heavy boxes look effortless, unless they were empty and it was actually effortless. Either way, she had a cool headband and some awesome fire ink designs of sea monsters on her arms. He'd be happy to serve under her in his new sailor escape fantasies.

"You have good taste in women." Neteri was following his gaze with a dreamy sort of smile. What did she mean by…oh, that kind of taste. That kind of tracked for her, now that he thought about it. But as for him…

"Huh? Oh, I just thought she looked cool. I…I don't really have a taste in women."

Neteri cocked her head slightly, smiling openly. "Taste in men, then?"

Castys swallowed. She probably wouldn't care, right? It's not like it mattered for her experiment. "No, I just…don't." He stared at his feet, not wanting to see her reaction.

"Well, nothing wrong with that." Neteri said casually, taking another bite. Castys blinked, slowly turning to look at her, mouth falling open slightly. Nothing…wrong? Neteri noticed him staring and gave him a concerned look. "You okay, Castys?"

"I…" he leaned back, looking at the sky. "No one's ever said that to me before. My parents…it was the one thing that upset them that I wasn't doing on purpose." Their words echoed in his head, the yells that he was broken and faking it and not a real man hurting far more than any insults directed at him for bad behavior. "Are you sure there's not something wrong with me?" he asked quietly.

Neteri huffed, shaking her head. "Of course not. That's just how you are, and you're not the only one who's like that. You don't have to like people or get married or anything if you don't want to. It's perfectly normal."

Normal. He wasn't sure if he even knew what normal was, between his royal upbringing and his demon body parts. Still, while Neteri's opinion of things wasn't always the most trustworthy, maybe…maybe she was right about this. He'd rather believe her over his parents, anyway.

"Have you…have you ever actually met anyone like me? I just always sort of figured I was the only one." It sounded silly now that he said it out loud, but it's not like the topic ever came up when he met people.

"I have! My little brother doesn't really experience attraction, either. He just wants to live with his best friend forever. There are a few people I met in medical school who feel that way, too. So you're really not alone, okay?"

Castys couldn't help but smile, warm relief replacing the tension in his muscles. "Thanks." He didn't want to get too sappy, so he shoved noodles in his mouth. Thinking more about that could happen later when he was in bed and also by himself.

Neteri was impressed when he finished all of his food, and the look on her face when he said he still had room for dessert was priceless. Even so, she insisted he needed a little time to digest, giving the excuse that there were better sweets stands to be found along the cliff face at the back of the city.

So off they went, wandering through the maze of streets, stopping to look at whatever weird things she thought were significant, which included a dusty-ass bookstore, an old poster that she thought was hilarious for some reason, and, the coolest thing, a bunch of different rocks from around the world. If dealing with foreign representatives had involved more cool rocks, Castys might have actually paid attention to the discussions he'd sat in on growing up. Alas, it was all trade agreements.

Finally, they reached the market along the cliff face, and the bustle here was even more overwhelming than the docks had been. There were all sorts of crafts and magic tools and baskets of spices and, best of all, sugary fried stuff.

Castys examined his options carefully, in the end deciding to go with sweet little fried dough balls that came with a creamy vanilla dipping sauce. They were amazing, but his hands and face got all sticky, and Neteri laughed at him for getting custard on his nose. He got his revenge the moment she grabbed his hand again, rubbing his sticky fingers all over the back of her hand.

"You have got to be the grossest prince I've ever met," Neteri mumbled as she used her water magic to clean them both off.

"I try my best." Castys grinned, taking the insult as a compliment. His eyes wandered as she cleaned in between his fingers, a particularly colorful stall catching his eye. If that's what he thought is was…he could at least ask, right? "So, you know, I've been a very good boy, I think."

Raising an eyebrow, she looked up at him. "For the most part."

"Right. So, like, I'm full, and I'm very grateful for all of the food, but if there was, um, something I could get to have later…?" He flashed his most innocent smile.

Neteri relaxed slightly. "Such as? I don't know what's going to keep well, except for…" she looked around, stopping and smiling when she realized what he was talking about. "Sure, I'll get you some candy."

"Epic." Castys eagarly pulled her over to the candy stall, already weighing his options, wondering how many pieces he could get, and what he even wanted.

"You can get five," Neteri sighed, almost sounding like a tired mother. Five was enough for Castys, and, despite his initial idea of getting a wide variety, he settled on five different flavors of candy sticks. They were decently sized, but not so big he couldn't fit the whole thing in his mouth, which was important. You had to be able to have a hands-free enjoyment experience, but be able to take a break and talk or something using the stick to take it out. Castys usually kept the stick in his mouth long after the candy was gone so he could feel like one of those cool guys who sucked on grass without actually having to have grass sticking out of his mouth.

"I get the other flavors, but you're really getting one with a cricket in it?" Neteri asked as they walked away from the stand, putting his candy sticks in her bag.

"I've never eaten a cricket. I want to see what it's like to be a lizard."

Neteri giggled, giving him a slightly confused look. "I guess it's too bad I'm not turning you into a lizard then, huh?"

"If you were I would accept my destiny more readily." Which was true, he would enjoy laying on a warm rock in the sun for extended periods. He looked over at the stripey cliff face, wondering how many lizards were skittering around on there. For the first time, he noticed all the people gathered around the base of it, laying their hands on the dark crystals randomly embedded in the surface. "What's up with that?" he asked, pointing.

"Oh, that's where people send their energy and prayers up to the Midnight Sun." Upon seeing Castys's blank expression, Neteri continued. "That big symbol in the cliff. It lights up at night thanks to people's energy. It's believed that prayers said while touching one of the stones are sent up to the sun. Do you want to try it?"

Castys had never been the spiritual type, but he was curious about the wall itself, so he could think some thoughts to the ball in sky while he was at it. "Sure, I guess."

The cliff was sandstone, upon closer inspection, which wasn't shocking, but the crystals in the surface…he wasn't sure what exactly they were. Definitely added by people, at the very least, and probably fire element minerals since they made shit glow. Which was why he was here.

Castys put his hand on one of the crystals, thinking. This was basically like making a wish, right? He was apparently too much of a little bitch to run, so wishing for freedom was stupid. Maybe he should wish for some fucking direction on…on anything. Or he could wish to be a lizard who just got to scuttle around and eat bugs and not be expected to do anything. Or he could wish for a million more candy sticks. Or he could wish for something that was remotely realistic, just in case it might come true.

Dear the sun, please make it so I don't have to wear this stupid collar for the rest of my life. It's uncomfortable. Also I want to go on a boat at least once. Sincirely, Castys.

Good enough. He stepped back, a tiny bit woozy from leaving his hand on the crystal for too long. Neteri had already finished, so with that done, they headed…back towards the palace. It was getting sort of late, and he'd known they wouldn't stay out all day, but…

"Did you have a good day, Castys? Have enough good food?" Neteri gave his hand a squeeze.

"Yeah. I'm very full and in a little bit of pain but it was worth it." Manners might be a good idea since Neteri cut him open all the time. "Thanks for the food and stuff."

"Of course! I hope this makes it up to you after that whole mess with your arm."

"Nah, that'll take at least a hundred more candy sticks."

Neteri laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Now I know where to buy them."

"I expect regular deliveries. No excuses." Maybe he'd be a better test subject if he got little treats more often. He could certainly be persuaded.

"Understood. I won't let you down." Neteri opened the door to the palace, gesturing for him to go first.

After taking one last glance at the city behind him, Castys turned and walked inside, the collar around his neck shifting as he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

The day outside was over, and his chance to escape was gone.

He wished he was a little more upset by that, but as Neteri led him back to his cell, all he felt was relief.

AU taglist: @vampiresprite @whump-in-the-closet

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen

@whumpedydump

[hiding-in-the-shadows]

‘Please don’t kill me.’ Whumpee whispers, eyes clamped shut.

Whumper chuckles, ‘What makes you think I’m going to kill you? No. What I’ve got planned for you is gonna make you wish I killed you.’