#me@me IF IT WERE A CENTURY your own grandfathers wouldn't have given a shit

[umbralsong]

Racism in Astarion's Writing

There is a fascist takeover happening in Europe. Again. With pogroms targeting racialized and marginalized groups. Being at all silent about how media affects our perception of reality would be irresponsible of me. I stand in solidarity with you all. I will polish this as I go along, but this is for anyone who wants to understand.

Block, report, and move on from the inevitable racist shitheads. We have work to do.

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There is a... let's be charitable for a moment and call it "knee-jerk" reaction to discussions of racism in fandom. To call it character assassination, exaggeration, slander - anything but to acknowledge the dehumanizing system of power that underlies every part of this imbalance. It's only scary if you don't understand it, and as part of another group under siege for half a millenia, I am intimately familiar with it.

There are Romani perspectives on Astarion's storyline I would encourage everyone to read before mine. I don't wish to link them in case this post gets targeted. Please lend them your kind support and sincere gratitude for their contributions.

I do not "forgive" a character for questionable biases. I wonder why the writers put it there. I question its purpose in the narrative and the effect it has on the story and audience.

Let's discuss the effect:

The racism in Astarion's storyline serves no purpose, but the effects are harmful.

I've played evil (poorly). But I also have a very fucked up sense of humor and understand the appeal of a well-written fucked up little dude. Take, for instance, this Warlock from a BG3 playthrough:

Absolutely vile, but a clearly theatrical/satirical look at a classist piece of shit, you know, that sort of character. Take it as a palate cleanser after reading, and then gather your strength.

This is not a post about liking flawed characters. Please take your strawman, dust behind you, and move along.

I often find the trouble with depicting racism is the inherent unfamiliarity with the subject in a majority-white writer's room and company. There is an idea of what it entails, but not its purpose, and not its day-to-day application.

There is a veritable treasure trove of knowledge out there that I've ended up having to take in small parts. It is not easy hearing about the ways people have hurt others, systemic and otherwise. I genuinely want us to learn from this and be better for one another.

So when I see depictions of people who are Indigenous and Romani and Sinti, I wonder... why? And why were these writers chosen for this character/storyline?

In Astarion's storyline, from what I can tell, he makes light of stealing the Gur children. I can tell this is meant to be a depiction of guilt and deflection. What sucks is the fact that he's ultimately a white man making light of the fact that's... historically what they do.

The point, I believe, of him "following Cazador's orders" is to invoke the Nuremberg Defense. The tragedy is that Astarion, by D&D logic, literally couldn't do anything but follow his command. It's implied because he's defensive as hell, but he feels exceedingly guilty regardless. For all we know, it's earned.

Is Racist Magistrate Astarion still canon? If so, his "grudge" against the Gur is motivated by racism. Is that something we are prepared to confront with more than a line? Was he just a (maybe recently?) privileged asshole exercising his newfound power? In that case, his use of systemic power over the Gur may be read as a parallel to his storyline. But then the Gur need autonomy as well.

There is something to be deconstructed here, but I would not know its intimacies from my perspective. Others would. They may restructure it altogether so that it makes sense for their experience.

Here is what I know, and it should not be on this group alone to point it out: The inappropriate misuse of these tropes has encouraged racism in the fandom at large.

Performing a script well is not the fault of the voice actor, nor is the twisted logic of fans the fault of the writers. I am pointing out that reckless inclusion of certain ideas can have very unfortunate implications:

So stealing their children, expressing little remorse, and then "sparing" them the pain of executing stolen marginalized children is a good ending? I'm adding some untagged comments here for emphasis:

I find it interesting the game recognizes the complexity of the situation regarding the spawn and doesn’t punish the players or Astarion whatever the choice as long as they aren’t doing it for selfish reasons. Some good, thoughtful writing there.

Wow, even as a dedicated Astarion romancer, I was beginning to feel like it was a little unfair how much more recognition Neil is getting over the rest of the cast, but now I’m reminded of why. I’ve finished the game 3 times and never even considered not sparing the spawn, because if he deserves a chance, why don’t they? But the conviction he has behind his words in this makes me think I’ve been making the wrong choice.

Person 1: I really dislike Ulma. She’s such a judgmental Monday morning quarterback. Person 2: same, no matter what you do she'll blame Astarion for things that were outside his control

Spawn Astarion sparing their children as spawn is better and in line with his story, but for some reason, that isn't acknowledged through commentary, dialogue, or mechanics... thus, again, unfortunate implications:

To the spawn Astarion, Greetings from the family of Ulma, hunters of monsters and keepers of peace across Faerun. We know this letter finds you well, for although we hunt you no longer, we do sometimes keep a watch. Your restraint and control over your bloodlust has been admirable. Indeed, it has been an inspiration for our children, who have struggled with their own hunger. These last months have been a difficult time for our people. We have protected and nurtured our children as best we can, and we have learned much. Herbs we once used to dull our foes' minds are now sedatives to ease hunger and pain, restraints built to hold the undead now protect them from themselves. There has been a lot of pain, but a lot of progress too. Our children learned discipline and control, while we learned compassion and patience. There was a time when we would have destroyed any undead creature, our own blood or not, and called it a mercy. But then we met you. Wer saw that redemption was possible. Difficult, yes. Painful. But possible. You saved our children first from Cazador, and then from us. For that, we thank you. We will watch you still, but with more admiration than fear. Walk in peace, Astarion.

And, according to these commenters, it's better to kill them because the marginalized Elder is never satisfied with the man who stole their children?

It sounds so casual, I think. Perhaps they don't know what stealing children from a community really means.

60s scoop/residential school/reeducation camps trigger warning:

(The Scream by Kent Monkman. Alt text in link.)

Look at this painting.

Take it in with me for a moment. It is a scene taken from many memories and one. Look at how these families fought to stay together. Look at how they fight priests, nuns, and state officials - ones who my friend assured me are very friendly - how they grasp at their children with such painful desperation on their faces. It is a way for one to bear witness to unfathomable love and heartbreak.

When genocide deniers play their games, this is what they want you to pretend never happened. Don't mind the tens of thousands of child graves, or the stolen land. Just pretend these people are criminals out to swindle you, or steal your wives.

Growing up, listening to survivor testimonies, and the sweet reverberance of the remnants of survivors of slavery, you appreciate what you have. You remember every kindness. You love what you lost, and what you gained through gritted teeth.

And, you remember the unfathomable pain. It's why you promise to stop it from ever happening again, to anyone.

It is very sad. A heart is a heavy burden. Embrace it. To love is to live again, and to live again means you understand Never Again. Because people deserve to be happy. And that's worth a fight. That's why it's worth depicting with care and love, even when the subject matter threatens to choke you.

Let's get into Cazador Szarr.

I've played the game and understand that he has a backstory and some depth. What disturbs me is that an Asian man has the bloodiest, most brutal scene in the game with a white man killing him.

I can't let this be undiscussed as sinophobia rises in a pandemic. I am no authority, but I'm not ignorant. These posts are found in discussions of racism in BG3 and I would, again, prefer not to put a target on their back. Instead, show them support.

In terms of diverse storytelling, casting, and roles, I would only ask that a historical and sensitive look be applied. Hire people from these communities to act, direct, and write for that role. Writing is never easy. There is a weight and responsibility to it, but it's worth it to touch as many souls as possible.

I respect this history. That is why it is not something I believe should be thrown in as flavor text. It's why history needs to be respected as a great backstory to everything we create. We need each other, and we need art we create together.

The debt is yet to be paid.

[fallen029]

Miraxus Vampire AU? Pretty please?

The house sat high atop a hill, as Gothic as it was decrepit, a wrought iron gate wrapping around the sprawling property. It served it’s purpose, separating the tiny town in the valley from it’s contents, but truly, it was a bit pointless. No one step foot on the property.

Not willingly, at least.

That’s the villagers informed them of, when they answered the request. For fifty years, they’d suffered in relative silence, so they claimed, but no more. The house had been rather quiet, for half a century, if not more, and honestly, they claimed, the storied history of the Strauss Manor began to feel just like that; a story. A fable. Something their parents had terrified them with because their own had done the same to them.

The fear that surrounding it had begun to die down until, the youngblood of the tiny village didn’t fear it at all. Not when they reached their teens. It became a bit of a game, really. To see who could sneak away from their homes in the middle of the night, make the short trek up the hill and to the property. First, who could touch the gate. Then who could open it. Would someone step a foot in? Next thing you now, a few of the local teens were breaking into the mansion.

“It was horrific. The scream.” That’s what one of the women in the village insisted to Laxus Dreyar as he stood there, as full of disbelief as he was excitement over this new interesting case. Thieves, bandits, highwaymen; boring shit. This? This was something new. Something he’d never heard of before. He tried not to show his interest too heavily, given the villagers seemed so freaked, but as that woman sobbed over her tale, it was hard not to just rush right out to begin the investigation. “The boys, they came running back, fast as they could. Three of them went. My son, the boy next door, and another, but he…he did not return.”

“Why,” Freed, one of Laxus’ three understudies began, “did no one go and look? Up at the mansion? Surely you do not believe-”

“Stagnancy,” another in the crowd, a man, insisted, “breeds complacency. We forgot the stories. We stopped believing. But… They are there. In their mansion. They were asleep, but now, their slumber is over.”

“Uh-huh,” Evergreen, the only female of the ground, hardly glanced up from filing her nails. She wasn’t nearly as excited about traveling all the way out there for what she was sure was just a tragic accident. Teens playing around in a rundown building. Nothing good ever comes from that sort of thing. They’d find his body in the basement or something, having fallen through a hole in the floor, and that would be that. “Stagnancy. Sure.”

“But,” Freed continued to insist because he always seemed so serious about everything, “if you had just gone to look-”

“Even to look,” the woman insisted to them, “is to be cursed. They will come down from their mansion, when it is time to feast, and they will…will… Please, you must help us. You must do something. These…monsters will-”

“They’re not monsters.” That came from Bickslow, the last of the bunch, who’s tongue wobbled out of his mouth in his excitement. It wasn’t able to be contained, not in him. No way. He’d only dreamed of something like this his entire life. From the time that they got the request, it was all he could do not to die right then and there because he would never be happier. Not an ounce. “They’re vampires.”

.

Freed didn’t believe in vampires. None of the other believed in them. They were just a silly little ragtag team of young adults who’d met a few years back, all through Laxus. He was running a little business in a small town, taking on odd jobs and requests from the villagers. Anything from repairing a sprinkler system to solving petty crime, Laxus was down with it.

He had to be. Any source of money was all he needed. He’d been kicked out, in his late teens, of the group home his grandfather ran for unwanted children. There was no hard feelings there. Not anymore. At one time, his grandfather thought that Laxus could assist him in running the joint, but… Laxus just had other plans.

Or at least he was forced to when he found himself out on the street with only the skills he’d picked up from the group home to keep him company. He knew all the ins and outs of fixing plumbing issues, laying drywall, all sorts of things about electricity and getting the shit shocked out of him. He could figure out who stole from Gray, one of the typical troublemakers at the home. It was usually just Natsu, the other troublemaker. He could resolve rifts between the whiny little shits like Lucy and Cana, stop bullies like Erza from forcing the other kids to do terrible things, like actually learn how to read.

He could have run the fuck out of that place. Got all those kids homes.

But…he and his grandfather just couldn’t get along.

And maybe he didn’t want to get them homes. Give them a home, even. Not when he was still all fucked up about his own parents. His grandfather, Makarov, he was good at making amends with his demons, fucking up his own son how he had. He raised up other children, even his own grandson, in retribution and he found it.

Laxus just…had to do something different. Find his own path.

So he moved away and started his own business. With the only skills he knew. He settled spats around town, fixed anything that broke, and grew his brand. He picked the others up along the way.

Freed was the first one. A smart little shit that worked at the library Laxus frequented, when he was checking local records (land disputes were common), and he was treated like crap by the head librarian. Laxus saw talent though. And someone that he could get to do all the readin’ and stuff that he didn’t want to.

Evergreen was a bit different. She, uh, well, she and Laxus, well, uh, well… Well. They were gonna hook up one night, after Laxus met her at a bar, but she was just so fucking depressing. Atop the alcohol that was already dampening the mood, they ended up just sitting around on his couch after sloppily making out and she mentioned that she was looking for work and, well, he wanted someone to stick around the little building he’d begun to rent out, to be a receptionist or whatever. He needed one he wouldn't’ be tempted to, uh, ‘harass’ or whatever and, well, Ever was no longer someone he was interested in.

At all.

Then Bickslow, that freak, that fucking freak, Laxus had no idea what the fuck happened there. One minutes, the weirdo is standing in the little office, preforming some sort of circus act, it seemed like, juggling these little wooden babies, as he tried hard to convince them that he should be allowed to join up, because who didn’t need an acrobat in their act?

“We’re not an act, you dingus,” Evergreen had complained over from her desk as she fanned herself. “We’re- Hey!”

“You’re,” Laxus told him with a handshake after the Mohawked man threw one of the wooden dolls right at Evergreen, hitting her squarely in the face, “hired!”

They were a strange group, to say the least. But over the past few years, they’d become his group. His business was booming and they were getting requests from all about, high and low. If you wanted it, they could do it for you. Help build a house? You’re in luck. They could slap some wood together. Need a party clown for your gross kids birthday? Not only was Laxus great with kids, but it was literally the only talent Bickslow brought to the table. And now, apparently, after receiving a desperate letter in the mail, they were vampire hunters.

.

“This is so great,” Bickslow hyped them up as they hiked up the hill and Evergreen had only come along because how could you pass up a vacation from a rinky dink town to go tour a mansion? But even as the building only loomed in the sunlight, she could tell it was not somewhere she’d like a glimpse inside. “Actual vampires. You know, we had some of them, in the circus, that my parents worked in.”

“Bull shit,” Ever told him and Freed only sighed because he didn’t want to hear about the stupid circus again.

It was all Bickslow talked about. His tragic, tragic backstory. Tent fire, bunch of deaths. You could only hear it so many times before it just got to be too much.

“We did,” the man insisted with a tongue wag. “You believe me, eh, boss? Vampires?”

Laxus just walked along, heavy boots crunching everything in his path. With his headphones in, he could hardly hear those morons and their banter. They were his group, his team, his people, his friends, but damn were they annoying.

The sun was high in the sky as they arrived at the wrought iron gates and there was no fear in any of their bellies. Just a mix of interest and wonder as the three who didn’t believe couldn’t understand how those down in that rundown little village could let such a massive mansion fall into decay. Shameful, really.

“Vampires,” Bickslow whistled low, “definitely live here.”

Reaching for the gate, Laxus easily opened it as Evergreen muttered something about tetanus.  

“They’ll be in their coffins,” Bickslow was going on. “Sleepin’ away the daylight hours. We just open it up, ya know? The lid? And then we jab ‘em! Right through the heart. Crinkly old bastards, vampires are. The ones at my circus-”

“I do not,” Freed complained, finally, aloud, “want to hear any more about your circus.”

“Talkin’ is my copin’ mechanism.”

“Then find,” Ever retorted, “a new one.”

“I used to talk to myself a lot,” he whispered softly. “Before you guys.”

Laxus was only focused on the fact that the yard was so overgrown and, as he walked through the high weeds, he could feel little burrs sticking to his jeans as he went about. His eyes were only across the property though, focused on the heavy wooden doors rather than the broken out windows and the sun chipped paint.

“They said, down in the town,” Bickslow went on then, “that they see lights now. Now that those kids woke up the vampires. Ah, man, we shouldda came at night. Just one night. To see. Before we kill ‘em. I’d like to meet one, one day, you know, a vamp-”

“I thought,” Evergreen complained, “you just spent forever and a fucking day telling us about how you had met one?”

‘W-Well, I just meant-”

“You’re so full of shit, Bickslow, that-”

“Let me explain! Sheesh, boss, can you believe this? Won’t even let a man explain himself. Some people-”

“There is a person!” Freed was rarely one to exclaim, but he had to then, in shock. The others were all focused on the house, but his eyes had drifted, across the yard, over to the big oak tree that grew with little abandon, with no one to trim it. There, at it’s base, sat a young teen, staring right over at them. “I bet that’s the boy. The one who they have been missing.”

“Hey!” Laxus finally spoke as he turned to yell out to the boy. “Kid! We’re lookin’ for ya. Your family’s real worr- He’s a runner!”

“On it, boss!” Bickslow took off then, through the high grass, chasing after the kid who only ran around the house, obscuring the others vision. Freed was the next to give chase and Laxus cautioned them as Evergreen only rolled her eyes.

“I told you,” she said to Laxus as they stood there and waited for the pair to either come back empty handed or with the teen in tow, “that there were no vampires. Don’t you feel silly now? For coming all the way out here?”

Snorting, Laxus only crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Waited some more. Even more. Eventually, he and Ever were glancing at one another.

“Hey, guys?” Laxus called out as he began to walk then, the direction in which they’d run, Evergreen groaning, but not following. “If you can’t get him, that’s fine! Just come back and we’ll go explain down in the village, yeah? Freed? Bickslow? Look, morons, you’re not gonna freak us out, so just come on. The sooner we get out of here, the better. This places gives me the damn creeps. Those fuckin’ villagers are spooked about something, that’s for sure, and I’d really like to not stick around for them to turn on us or something. Who the hell lives like the middle ages? Huh? Didn’t even see any damn electricity in the whole damn village. Oil lamps like the stone ages. Something’s not right here. Something…”

He was just talking to himself then, he knew, as he rounded to the back of the overgrown property only to find no one there. Not a soul. His blood ran cold and something wasn’t right, because they wouldn’t have chased the kid into the woods, would they have? Maybe…inside? Turning to look at the back porch, Laxus considered walking up it, to the door there, and trying it, but something else caught his eye.

Cellar doors. They laid raised from the ground, no doubt housing a set of stairs that led to a little basement like room beneath the property. An old mansion like that, having a cellar wasn’t too spectacular or anything. But one of the doors was open and maybe the teen had gone down there? And Freed and Bickslow followed? And…

He stood over it then, Laxus did, a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach as he did so. He felt transfixed, no longer on finding his cohorts, but rather on climbing those rickety stairs down, deep into the earth, and looking for himself. What was beneath there. It felt like something was calling to him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the darkness and he had a flashlight, pinned to his belt, which he turned on once he got down to the bottom of the stairs. Shining his light all about, he found the landing beneath the stairs just to be empty. The wall before him, however, housed a door, and trying it, he felt his breath jumping out of his breath as the knob turned with the difficulty of age and lack of lubricant.

It was so cold down there. Damp. It was dusty and gross and no doubt at least one venomous spider was hanging on a web somewhere, just waiting for a schmuck like him to come around to infect, but he moved forwards into the new room regardless. It felt mostly empty as well, but there stood, on raised little platforms, three long, wooden boxes. No. Not boxes. He couldn’t say what they were because it would freak him out too much, he might panic, but he knew.

He fucking knew.

“Stakes,” Bickslow had insisted before they left town for the jobs. “We all need stakes.”

He’d whittled them, out of wood himself, the acrobat insisted, and made them both promise to drive them through the hearts of anything they thought didn’t have one.

“What,” Evergreen had complained, “does that even mean?”

Who knew?

But Laxus did, in that moment, as he approached the three coffins. Shining his light on the center one, he knew what he had to do. Reaching out, his hand fell on the splintering wood and lifted slowly. A body was in there. Slender. Feminine. But just as he was about to shine his light over the face, to get a better look, he felt something behind him.

“Ever?” he asked as he start to twirl around, but no, it wasn’t. IN a split second, he could tell it was the teen from before. “Hey, what-”

He struck Laxus, hard, in the back of the head with a blunt object. And then the man saw nothing.

.

His eyelids were heavy and he was groggy and the world felt like it was spinning at the man opened his eyes. Laxus could smell something sweet in the air, scented candles burning, soft and delicious and Ever was into that shit. Aromatherapy. She burned all sorts of things in office.

Did he fall asleep at work again?

“Are you awake?” There was a soft sigh of an unknown woman then, from somewhere else in the room, and Laxus felt like his head was pounding. “Good. I’ve been waiting for some time. And I don’t like waiting.”

His head lulled to one side then and, as he blinked away the blurriness, he could make out a woman sitting there, on the edge of a bed, a wine glass clutched in one hand as she stared over at him with bright blue eyes.

Her shocking white hair only highlighted just how pale her skin was and had he slept with this woman? Fucking hell, what a pick up. He’d been in a bit of a slump, since his last break up, and even surrounding towns hadn’t really produced much for him. His drunk ass had followed home a lot of less desirable, but this…man, this was something even Evergreen would have to admit was pretty damn amazing.

As he moved to raise his hand though, to his forehead, to stroke back his hair and maybe even stand, he found this impossible. Panic filling him then as he tried to move, tried to get up, Laxus found he was chained to a chair and fuck, it all came back to him as the woman only rose, glass still cupped in her hand, and giggled, softly, sweetly, and…and…

“Where the fuck,” he growled at her as in the glint of the moon shining in through an opened window, she flashed in a toothy smile, long, pointy fangs and all, “are my friends?”

“Take a breath, my dear. My, don’t you just look ferocious when you’re angry though?”

He was seething, still trying desperately to break his chains and what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. How was he here? Why was he here? Was this a dream? It had to be, right? He’d hit his head on a beam or something, down in the cellar, yeah, and then…then…

“You have no idea how…happy and pleased you’ve made me,” the white haired woman was telling him then as she only came closer. “Showing up on my doorsteps like this. I would assume it a gift from a god, but then, I’m not exactly friendly with most gods.”

“What,” he growled as she was before him then, grinning happily down at him, “are you?”

“I’m timeless. Ancient, yet newborn with each passing day. A true beauty. A-”

“Abomination.” He turned his head when she ran her cold fingers down the coarse stubble that laid along his jawline. “You are an-”

“Hush, my love.” She looked away from him then, down at her cup. “There will be plenty of time for such things later. Such spats. Hateful, hurtful comments. It always comes, eventually. Before the end. And I will end you. Look-zus, was it? That’s what the green-haired man told me. A gift as well, he will be. A much better servant for the coming decades than that horrible teenager. Ugh. Boys. I need men. Real men. And look, two have just fallen perfectly into my lap.”

He spit, Laxus did, hitting her square in the cheek. For a moment, he saw it. A flash of something darker within the white haired woman. But then it was gone and she only reached up to touch her cheek, ghosting her finger tips over the sticky saliva there.

“Oh, my golden dragon.” That time, her hand came to run her fingers through his hair and he froze, as she leaned down, the gleam of the single fang she was showing him then, as she turned her head, blinding the man. “Hair like…lightning. I saw you and I just knew. I knew. Deep within myself. I knew that I had to keep you. Laxus. Hmmm. It feels heavy on my tongue. Yoru name. Nice. And heavy.”

“If you’re going to…eat me,” he whispered tersely as he shivered in the cold night air, “then just fucking do it.”

And she laughed that time, more than she giggled, removing her hand from his head and taking a step back.

“What exactly do you think you’re here for, Laxus?” She went to the window then, staring out of it with a long sigh. “I feel you have misunderstood my intentions.”

“You’re a…vampire.” The word felt childish and foolish, even being presented with all he was.

“If that’s the word you choose, sure, I suppose I am.”

“Then drink my blood and be done with it.”

“I do not mean to…feed on you, Laxus.” She huffed some, glancing over at him. “I have not your friends either.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s the truth.” Shaking her head some, she whispered, “I had no intention of harming that boy that came here. Boy.”

It was her turn to spit, down on the ground, by her feet. He took stock of her then, Laxus did, from head to toe, from her striking dress to the way it was cut, just right, at the top, to extenuate her…well… It felt gross and weird to be so turned on as he could only really consider his death.

Still, the woman only said, “We stopped hunting them long ago. After my brother’s…accident. And I never enjoyed it anyways. Those people. Vile. Inbred. Gross. I hunt far from here and hardly ever come home. Just to check on my siblings. My brother’s…accident made it difficult for him to do much. My sister stays and cares for him and they have little desire to mess with those wretched people either. But then they come into our home and what is supposed to be done, I ask you? My sister, Lisanna, she did all she knew to. She didn’t feast on his gross, sick blood. She turned him. Into a servant. It’s what I’ve done with your green-haired friend. With him now, I have little need for the teen. Let’s just say my last…helper caught a bad break. Your green-haired friend will do just fine.”

“Freed…you fucking monster.”

“He’ll be much happier now, than he would have been, before. As a mortal.” She shrugged some. “Smart man, he is. I can always tell. That other one though…that boy…the jester-”

“Bickslow.”

“I did not turn him. I had no need.”

“What do you mean?”

But she offered no explanation.

“That woman,” she went on instead, “she was a tricky one, but my brother will be quite pleased.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you, my love, must learn quickly how to talk properly to your mistress. Least you make me angry.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, Laxus.” But her eyes were locked on the moon. “How many days will it take to break you? Not too many, I hope. Else I might get angry.”

“Why haven’t you turned me?” he asked then and he started shaking again, in his bolted down chair in the bedroom of the sullen vampire. “Like my friends? What the fuck are you going to do to me? Huh? Answer me! You fucking-”

“My brother doesn’t mind servants. And my sister…she was still…young, when we became… She has no need for me.” She downed the rest of her cup then, the woman did, before turning to look at him fully again. “But even queens of darkness have needs, my love.”

Jerking one last time, hard, against his chains, Laxus was spent and, bowing his head, he tried hard not to weep. She made a noise then, int eh back of her throat, before coming closer.

“Oh, poor Laxus.” She ran her fingers through his hair again, but he refused to lift his head. He couldn’t. “You never should have come here. Yet I am so glad you have.”

.

He slept uncomfortably through the night and into the next morning. In the light of day, Laxus spent as much energy as he could, pulling at the chains and cursing, but he felt hopeless then and, without any food or water for over twenty-four hours at that point, he felt a bit weak too. Or…had that woman given him something?

When he awoke again, it was to the night, and she was in there once more, the woman. But she wasn’t alone.

“-change the linens and there is a river, on the back of the property, for you to wash things in,” she was listing to Freed as he stood by, nodding in all the correct places. “And your friend…Bickslow was it? He must be fed. He is not…turned. I do not know if he can be trusted to make a trek out to get himself supplies, so if you would do so for him, this would perhaps be the most helpful. He seems…off. Yet, Lisanna seems quite taken with him. He will make a nice little playmate for her, I think. And…will need you to procure me a specific brand of wine. It is only sold in- Your friend is awake.”

They both turned, Freed and the woman did, from where they stood by her dresser. Laxus could only blink though as he felt tears well in his eyes. Freed’s however, was void. Dark. Different.

“Freed, man,” he whispered softly, “what the fuck did she do to you?”

He glanced to the woman, Freed did, and when she nodded, he only moved forwards.

“Mistress has been kind of enough to grant myself and Evergreen life eternally, so long as we serve her and her siblings faithfully.” Bowing to the man, Freed assured him, “There will be no greater joy in my life than-”

“We’re fucked, man. Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Bickslow? Bickslow!” Laxus throat burned and he turned his head back, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Where are you? Bicks-”

“Oi, boss, what’s with all the noise, eh?”

The bedroom door opened then, but it was just out of vision for the man. Still, he heard his voice then, his clear voice, not like Freed’s, Bickslow.

“Bickslow.” That was a new voice. And in to the room came another woman, the younger sister, no doubt, that the woman had spoken of. “You have to knock. Sis, I’m sorry. He’s not very trained yet-”

She just huffed some, the woman did, as she lifted a wine glass from where it sat on the dresser and pressed it to her lips.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that, Ms. Boss.” Bickslow came further into the room, his back to Laxus as he saluted the vampire. She merely nodded at him. “See, the main boss here, he’s known to get in his head a little bit, yeah? Just give me a sec, and I’ll-”

“Bickslow, what the fuck is going on?” Laxus tugged at his chains as he saw another one of them, a white haired vampire, come to peek at him. She was younger than the main one he’d been speaking to. Early twenties at most. She grinned, bemused at him. “Are you insane?”

“Well…yeah, boss, but not about this.” He gestured about then, between the two sisters. “There’s never been nothin’ I wanted more than to meet some real life vampires. Or werewolves. Are those real?”

“They’re not,” the younger woman answered for him. Then she looked to her sister. “Right?”

But the older merely shrugged, her blue eyes still on Laxus. The golden haired man felt like he was going to faint.

“Well, Lisanna here, she was gonna turn me into her little slave and let me tell you, I bow unwillingly to no man!” But then Bickslow winked. “Willingly though, I found the perfect siblings to bow to. My Ms. Boss over here, my mistress. Queen of the night! Darkness! A what a beauty-”

“Uh, Bickslow.” The younger one didn’t seem to pleased. “I was the one that was going to turn you.”

“Of course, Lissy.” And he was quick to nod at her. “The kid here, well, she appreciate it. My jugglin’ and jokes. My flips and turns. It’s gig, yeah? She says I can be her own personal jester. I’ll always be an acrobat at heart, of course, but if only Ma and Pa could see me now. What would they say? Huh? What-”

“You fucking psycho,” Laxus growled at him and he would have hit him, if he could, but alas, his chains only felt heavier by the minute. “Bickslow. Fucking sick.”

“You do what you gotta do,” the man told him then, solemnly, with a shake of his head, “to survive.”

“I’m not going to be that way.” Laxus dark eyes found the main woman’s then. “Like him. Submit to you? Fucking sick. Never. You better just kill me. Or let me go. Whatever. Freed, Ever…they’re gone. And Bickslow want sto be here, fine. But just let me go and I’ll never come back. I’ll never-”

“Boss, you’re the lucky one.” And Bickslow beamed at him. “Can’t ya tell what she wants you for?”

“Lucky?” The youngest, Lisanna, was not feeling the vibe her jester was putting down. “You know, suddenly, I’m a bit hungry-”

“Ah, nah, Lissy, you ain’t ever even seen me do a back flip off the upstairs banister out there. Don’t ya wanna at least see that first?”

And they were chasing one another out of the room then, Lisanna and Bickslow, while Freed stood by emotionless and the woman, the mistress, only continued to take sips of her drink.

“I won’t do that. I swear it. Submit to you. Like a little bitch. You’re a little bitch, Bickslow,” Laxus growled after the man, but he was long gone. “Pathetic. I’m not pathetic. So just kill me. Do it! Kill me!”

She finished her glass, the woman did, before looking to Freed.

“Leave us, if you will, please,” she said simply as he bowed deeply to the woman before doing so. “And draw me a bath, if you would. There’s a well on the property. Then heat up the water over the- You understand, don’t you? Smart man. I appreciate you so much already.”

When he left, Freed drew the bedroom door closed and they were alone once more. Advancing on Laxus, the woman’s eyes stayed locked with his and he was going to spit at her again. He wanted to. When she leaned down so that her face was even with his though, he felt something different bubbling up instead of him.

“You,” she whispered as, with one hand, she reached to paw at the front of his jeans and, with the other, she moved to stroke at his jawline again, “will do as I say.”

He’d heard about it before. The hold that vampires had on the opposite sex. They could control them. Charm them. That’s what must have happened to him. Yes. She charmed him. Fucking vampire. Demon. Abomination.

But as he found himself falling into bed with her, his mind didn’t feel fogged. It felt clear.

Fucking gross.

The whole thing.

.

Awaking alone in bed, Laxus felt wrong and different and his mind was all cloudy, but when his blinked the blurriness away, he only sat Freed, standing there, by his bed.

“The Mistress has left a short list of things for you to do today.”

Not his bed. Right. Shit.

“Fuck your mistress.”

“Our,” Freed corrected and his voice was cool as he stood, hands clasped behind his back, “Mistress.”

“What the fuck did she do to you, man?”

He had no answer for him. Instead, the green-haired man merely said, “She wishes for you to go down into the village and inform then that you found their boy. The teenager.”

“I can’t return him to them as one of her servants.”

“He is not any longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had an accident. In the house. The other teens go spooked and ran away, leaving him there. “

“Freed-”

“You will find him with his neck crushed, downstairs.” Turning to walk away, the other man added, “Carry him to the village and tell them there is no vampire. But you will return, to this mansion, afterwards. Tell the villagers you have decided to live here, along with your friends, as a returning the body to them. If anyone causes you trouble, leave. The Mistress will deal with them harshly, should this be the case.”

“Fuck that. And fuck you, Freed. Do you hear me?”

No.

Freed would never hear again.

Eventually, Laxus shoved out of bed and stumbled back into his clothes. Then, storming out of the room, he set out to end things, once and for all. But at the bottom of the staircase, he found him there. Bickslow. Just sitting on the bottom step, playing absently with a little pearly white kitten.

“The kid, Lisanna,” he explained without being asked, “as a cat that just had a litter. Was never a cat person, but she let me name them. This one is Pappa! Then there’s one named Poppo and Puppu and-”

“Bickslow what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, I guess, boss.” He sighed some and looked tired as he didn’t even glance after the man. “A lot.”

“You understand what’s happening here, right?” As he got to the bottom step, Laxus only walked around Bickslow before turning to face him. “Freed…poor Freed, but Evergreen is being controlled and…raped. I guess. By these monsters. Do you understand that?”

“He ain’t rapin’ her, boss. I’ve seen the brother.” Bickslow snorted. “He just cries and sobs about his injury and how great his sister is and all this and that. Lisanna finds him borin’ and so do I. Ever just sits beside him all day and listens. I think you’re the one that got raped, actually, boss, if we’re being technical. The rest of us are just prisoners.”

“I didn’t… Shut up! And you’re not a prisoner.”

“Nope,” he agreed with a nod, Bickslow did. “’cause I’m the smart one.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what me and my babies now,” he insisted as he nodded over to a box nearby where, when Laxus glanced in it, he found the rest of the kittens snoozing peacefully.

Fucking hell.

He found the body of the teen in the entryway and Laxus felt bad for the teen and what they’d done to him, but he couldn’t help him. He hadn’t been able to the whole time. But as he stepped over him and walked out the front door of the mansion, he hoped to help the entire world. Rid it. Of the evil.

This time he took the steps down two at a time into the cellar and it was pitch black down there, but he found his flashlight, down on the ground, in the coffin room. Flicking it on, he went to hers first. The Mistress. Threw it open and he was going to drive a stake right through her heart. End this. He had to end this. He had to…he…

Falling forwards, he rested his head, instead, into her chest, burying it there, like he had the night before and he was a goner, he knew. Charmed. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t do it.

“She will not be pleased,” he heard softly from behind him, the voice of what was once his most trusted friend, “if you do not do as asked.”

What choice did he have? Being charmed and all.

.

They were going on a trip. Him and her. A few days later. The Mistress insisted upon him accompanying her and Freed was going to stay behind, to be certain of things. Lisanna griped some, as she felt like she was being given a babysitter or something, but her sister only insisted and Laxus had yet to meet the brother, but he felt like that was for the best.

“You will meet me,” was all the Mistress instructed Laxus, “in Livingston. A town three over. Close to the bay.”

“Meet you?” he asked with a frown. “How will you get there?”

But she said nothing and as he set off into the night, he could have sworn her heard the shrieking of a bat overhead.

It was nearly sunrise, when he arrived, and Laxus was at least a bit curious as to how this would all play out, but the Mistress had an apartment there, in town, which she took him to. A coffin awaited her there.

“Freshen yourself up, for the evening,” was the one instruction she left him with. “We will be going out.”

He had so many questions. A lot of them. Ones that had been tugging at his mind for days at that point. But charmed and all, he could merely do as she asked.

When they left that night, they went even further out, to another town, taking the train there. When they arrived, the Mistress took him to a bar, where she mostly ignored him. Until, eventually, she told him to go rent her a specific room at a specific hotel.

“Wait for me there.”

And, well, charmed.

He was sitting at the desk when she came in. With another man. Laxus stared at her in shock and started to protest, as well did the man she was with, but she silenced both before they could even speak.

“He watches.” She eve shrugged. “He likes it.”

“He what?” the newcomer questions, but she just rolled her eyes, the Mistress did, and whispered something the blond man didn’t catch, and in the dim light of only the candles Laxus had lit, per her instructions, he saw the other man’s eyes…change. To something different. And the newcomer just nodded, following the Mistress as she led him over to the bed and shoved him right down.

Laxus didn’t want to though. Watch. It felt…wrong and gross and he was kind of, maybe, just a little…jealous?

Was that it?

He didn’t have long to contemplate it. The Mistress had shimmied out of her dress and the man had only tugged the shirt over his head before she pounced on him and it seemed so passionate, their hungry kisses. As he squared his jaw, Laxus found himself watching with dark eyes.

But something happened, when they broke apart. It looked like she was going back in, for another kiss, but her head missed and when it found his neck, Laxus could only hear the loud wail of pain from the man as, presumably, her teeth sunk deeply into his flesh.

Everything that had happened over the past few days felt sick and made him much the same, but this? This was by far the worst.

It went on for a few minutes. Was this…feed? He was horrified at the thought.

When she finally lifted her head, the bottom half of her pale white face was stained red with dripping, thick, hot blood and Laxus rose, to his feet, frozen afterwards though, as she merely got to her feet herself.

“Once a week,” she told him simply, “we shall do this.”

“Always,” he found his voice, softly, “men?”

“Whatever you’d like, my love.”

And he could only nodded, softly, as she wiped at her face with the back of her hands, smearing the blood across her.

The sickness was gone, as bad as that sounded, when she approached and he reached for her, and it was just so good, as they fell into bed together with the lifeless man beside them and he was fucked, he was so fucked, it was all fucked.

“The body…” Laxus questioned, softly, when they left that night, to rush back to the apartment, so she could hide out the daylight hours from the safety of her pine box.

“I have an…arrangement,” she offered simply. “Here. With the owner. Do not be jealous, Laxus.”

He wasn’t sure of the implication (or okay, fine, maybe he was), but still could only nod dumbly and they went along, in the darkness.

The Mistress instructed him to go back home, in the daylight, and she would meet him there. Laxus still felt dazed and almost as if the whole thing was a dream and he could run off, he could have, the whole time. He could have gotten on a different train, walked another way, gone anywhere else.

But he didn’t.

He went back to the Strauss mansion just as his mistress commanded.

.

“We old money. True,” the woman explained as she and Laxus sat together, on the couch in her room, sharing wine under the moonlight, “old money. I laugh now when I hear the term. The old houses, families, all who I knew growing up to rule the world? Gone. Disappeared. Yet we remain. My siblings and I. The last of the Strauss. Of the old days. Mama and Papa were good, hard workers, even with all their riches, and they raised us to be the same. When they got sick, I took over. A woman. A young woman. I was spit on by some, but who laughs now? Everyone else, dead. Their children, dead. Their great-great-greats all dead. For centuries. And I endure.”

“How did you…”

“Turn?” She hummed, deeply, softly, before whispering, “It’s not a pleasant part of the story. I feel in love. With an older man. He swept me off my feet. In the matter a matter of three days. He came into town, met me, and I was going to give it all to him, right then and there. I did, I suppose. In less than a weekend, he had me in his bed. I was so smitten. I thought it was a lovebite of some sort, at first. But no. You have options, Laxus, with thissort of things. Drain the blood, turn them into mindless little servants or…you can turn someone. And he turned me. How happy he was, with himself. Grinning. ‘Now,’ he told me, ‘you will be young and beautiful forever.’ And I have been ever since.”

For a long moment, they both sat there. Then, after a sip of her drink, she spoke again.

“Do you have family, Laxus?”

“A grandfather,” was all he could offer her. “And…these kids that I kinda helped him take care of.”

Nodding slightly without probing deeper, she said, “A shame. I could not leave my siblings behind. I turned them, when I explained to them, and I still ran my business the best I could. From the shadows. The night. I became an eccentric. All three of us did. An interest. Intrigue. It worked for a decade. But…then…why does she not age? Good genes. Old family secret. Another decade. How strange, how odd, the youngest still looks so…young. Another decade and another and we had to move. Somewhere new. Start fresh. We did this for awhile, but it only grew harder and harder and when we returned, eventually, to our family home, it sat alone atop the hill and the village beneath was filled with fearful little creatures, stuck int eh past that we’d long moved on from, my siblings and I. But my, did they make the perfect feeding ground. Who would believe them? That vampires lived atop the hill that overlooked their sleepy town?

“We fade in and out of it. Interest in them. Currently, for the past century, has it been? Less, perhaps? I found their blood revolting and their men of little interest. I must travel to find real men. Usually. But you just stumbled upon me. Found me. I’d say it was fate, but what is fate anyways? A human concept. And I have not been human in many, many moons. I’m a monster now, fine, an abomination. But I didn’t choose this. Look at me. Look, Laxus, like I command. Tell me I’m not beautiful? Desirable? What man does not want that? Eternal beauty. But it takes a special man to see passed the power. And the ones who do…they ask me eventually, to do to them what was done to me. To turn them. Do they not understand this curse? This terrible, sick curse? Disgusting. I do away with them quickly. Tell me, you do not wish to be cursed, do you, my love?”

“No,” he whispered softly, truthfully. “No, I don’t.”

“Good.” She even nodded as she tossed back some more wine. “You will age, grow, and die. How lucky, mortality is.”

“What happened to that man’s eyes?”

“Hmmm?”

“In the hotel room.” He grit his teeth from the thought. “You told him that I wanted to…watch and he was creeped out, but then you whispered somethin’ to him and-”

“Oh. That.” She even rolled her eyes. “It’s a gift, yes? That glazed over look men get around me. And women, I suppose, if I so choose. A…tool.”

“You,” Laxus whispered softly as his stomach dropped, “charmed him.”

“That’s it. Yes. I charmed-”

“I don’t have that look.”

“Hmmm?”

He rose then, from his seat, and looked all about for a mirror of some sort, but he could find none. Instead, he went to the window and, softly, was able to see his reflection in the pane. “My eyes are normal.”

“Yes,” she agreed softly, bemused, almost. “Why wouldn’t they be, silly?”

“I… The only reason that I’m doing all this is because… Haven’t you charmed me?”

“I told you, my little golden dragon. I don’t like to keep men around who must be forced to.”

“I don’t…I didn’t… I’m not doing this because I want to. Any of this. You hear me? You’ve forced me. You-”

“You’ve done nothing that you’ve not desired.”

“That’s not true.” Turning to look at her, he saw the disinterest etched on her face. “Look, I…I’m not…evil. I’m-”

“No one is evil. No one is good. We all do what we must. It does not bring me any joy, any pleasure, the things I do. Well, except, of course, for when it does.”

“I have to get out of here. I have to. I-”

“You could have,” the woman reminded. “I’ve let you have freewill. And yet you always come back. Why? Laxus? I have no hold over you. It seems like…maybe…you want to-”

“Shut up,” he growled darkly and he punched it then, the window before him, slicing up his hand and spraying glass all about outside.

“You just make your friend’s work harder,” the woman tsked and he shook with rage. “You’re so strong. You must continue to train, you know? What were you training for before? Or were you a laborer? It doesn’t matter. I like men kind of…brutish. Like you. Eventually, one day, you and I will no longer enjoy one another. And I will be forced to end you. It’s all part of the deal, Laxus. You understand. Don’t you?All loves come to an end.”

“I don’t love you.”

“Of course you don’t. And I don’t you, yet, my love.” She giggled again and he hated it so much. That giggle. It would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. “I need you to work tomorrow, on getting the yard in order. I can give you the money, if you need it, to travel out to get supplies. But you will return to me, Laxus, always. You know this, yes? I don’t need charm. I will make certain this occurs.”

“You’ve ruined my life.”

“I’ve changed your life, is a better word for it.” She hummed that time, getting to her feet to come over to him. “You will learn to like it. The revulsion goes away, with repetition. And tell me, Laxus, will you ever find a woman more desirable?”

He shook his head, slightly, as she moved to grab his wounded hand and bring it up to her lips, pink tongue poking out to run across the slices he had in his fists there. As he opened his mouth, slightly, and seemed at a loss, she only raised her eyes and spoke something to him for the first time.

“Mirajane,” she whispered and he could only nod.

“Mirajane.”

“We’ll be so happy together, I’m sure, Laxus. You have your friends here, to keep you company, and I my siblings. So long as you recall your place, there’s no reason for this to not last for a good, long time. Wouldn’t you like that?”

No, he wanted to say, but “Yes,” fell from his lips and as hers came to be pressed against his, and he should have never come. To that sleepy, old fashioned town. To that Gothic, decrepit mansion on the hill.

But he had.

And now he could never leave. 

.