a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.
quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.
oh and spoilers. i guess.
the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.
the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.
the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.
the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds
the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.
the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".
having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.
don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.
if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.
pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.
there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.
this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.
this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.
13. Charlie:
(see what i mean about that red thing?)
as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.
her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice
its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.
character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.
now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.
she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?
14. Vaggie
why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?
I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.
she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.
i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.
christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way
15. Alastor.
God Damn
where to start.
"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?
his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.
tumblr sexy man bait
he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.
his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.
his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.
he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.
personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.
im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.
16. Angel Dust
what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.
all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")
I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.
not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.
i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.
same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.
17. Carmilla carmine
are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?
Big Yoai Hands
ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.
A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-
her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.
i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.
18. cherri bomb
that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt
decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.
19. egg boiz
absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.
20. Emily
im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character
does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie
We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.
good contrast with the other angels on screen.
Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???
21. Husk
keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?
one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.
has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.
huge potential, little pay off.
22. lillith
I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.
alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.
23. lucifer morningstar
no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.
few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.
would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.
that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.
24. Adam.
alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.
I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up
I fucking hate his mask
We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.
25. Niffty
again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.
token straight
keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization
you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?
26. Sir Pentious
the secret season one redeemed.
the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.
essentially a child after the first episode.
actually a snake which i appreciate.
no where near steampunky enough.
27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.
28. Valentino
gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED
only a moth some of the time.
sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.
it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.
29. Vox
legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.
propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.
why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?
same body shape as literally every other male character.
tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.
30. Valvette
the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".
apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.
apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias
we know so much about her from things outside of the show.
was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.
im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.
but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.
this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.
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{Only Me and the Devil Know} Azriel x Reader
Picture credit
So. I have no real explanation for this other than I was ready this AMAZING fic and it sparked an idea. That’s it. That all I can say. I’m already blushing. Blow up my inbox, comments, and dm's with your thoughts! Enjoy <3 Title from this song. (Ps. Thank you for all the support on the teaser????? You guys are insane I love you all so much)
Word Count: 12,169 (HOLY SHIT)
Warnings: SMUT. like seriously, this is nasty. Pre-established relationship and consent, CNC, dom/sub, role play (predator and prey), pet names (dove!reader and master!Azriel), breath play, overstimulation and forced orgasms, bondage, spanking, oral (m&f), breeding kink, degrading, humiliation, masochism, stalking, biting, minor blood.
Summary: Azriel has had this fantasy of you that he's been terrified to ask you to partake in. After explaining and agreeing, fear and desire blur together in a terrifying game of predator vs. prey.
Tagging: @librafairy @needylilgal022 @bunnymallowo
~~~~~
The tip of the sun caressed my skin through the window, gently waking me from whatever dream I had been having. My shoulder ached from having slept on it a little weird, and my eyes were bleary.
I wandered to the kitchen that overlooked the hills, boiling some water for some tea. When I looked around the room, I felt this sense of pride for how far I’ve come in this little city. Everything was as it should be.
After breakfast, I changed for the day. The familiar worn in overalls slipped on, tucking the ends into my boots. I threw on a long sleeve shirt, the beginning of fall nipping through the window. While it was nice to have a change of seasons, it made me sad to have to say goodbye to some of the flowers and vegetation of the summer.
I packed a lunch and headed out, locking the door behind me. The walk this early in the morning was always therapeutic; chirping birds and herd of deer along the edges of the forest across the meadow. The dirt and stones crunched under my feet as I walked down the self-forged path to my shop on the corner.
I pulled the sign from my little alley and set it up to display the new deals and sales. On my door was a folded piece of paper with my name in some of the most incredible font I’ve ever seen.
“Oh my sweet little dove, you look so precious in that outfit of yours. With your hair braided down your head. You don’t even know my name and yet I scream yours every night. Don’t worry, I already know everything about you.”
My heart dropped. I whirled around and looked down the street. The sun hadn’t even come up yet, so maybe whoever left it was still out there. No one. No one was around besides me. The breeze rustles my wind chimes, making it feel even more eerie.
What the fuck?
I read it over again, not recognizing the handwriting. I quickly unlock the door and lock it behind me. I quietly step through the shop, checking if there’s anyone inside. Maybe I shouldn’t have locked myself in here.
No one was inside, and I blew a sigh of relief. With my head on a constant swivel, I went about my day, checking every corner of every room I went in. A friend of mine, Cece, stopped by in the afternoon. She clearly noticed the wariness in my eyes.
“Someone just left it on your door? Yn, why don’t you report it?” She asked, disgust written in her eyebrows as she looked at it again and again.
“Well, who would I report it to?” I shrugged.
“Hmm, let me think. Oh, I don’t know, maybe our High Lord?” I rolled my eyes at her sarcasm. “Yn, it’s not safe! Someone is obviously stalking you.”
“I’m fine.” I lied. I was a wreck. A complete boneless, nervous wreck. Cece knew.
“Yn-”
“I can handle myself,” I shook my head. “If I need to, I have a dagger under the cash register.”
“Yeah because that’ll stop a full grown male,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m just worried, Yn. I don’t wanna have anything happen to you. Especially when we can prevent it.”
“I will be alright, don’t worry about me,” I waved off. “If I feel unsafe I’ll let you know. And Damien is right next door, surely he’ll be able to help if something goes wrong.”
With a sharp inhale, and an obvious disagreeing tone, she left it alone. I didn’t feel unsafe here, and it was the middle of the day. Who would attack someone in the middle of the day? In public nonetheless.
____
There wasn’t a note on the door the next day, thank the Cauldron, and I began planning for the town’s annual solstice celebration. It was still a few months away, but I had to preserve some flowers for the winter in order to make holiday arrangements.
I designed and sketched wreaths, garlands and some other things to be put into production. Having to hand make all of them was a pain, and I usually hired some more help to get things done a lot faster.
It was a rare slow day, and I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I watered and swept, wiping down tables and shelves. I couldn’t shake this feeling no matter how hard I tried. I felt like I was being watched. And there was this chill in the air. Inside my shop, which always remained in the seventies for the plants.
But it was cold. I checked the thermostat, and it was still where it needed to be. Why did it feel so fucking cold?
Maybe It was just me, and I was getting a little sick.
Whatever it was, it followed me all the way home. I knew my eyes were playing tricks on me. I kept seeing things in the shadows move, but whenever I got closer, nothing was there. Yup, definitely being paranoid now.
The next morning was the same; no note, but this agonizing feeling that I was being watched no matter where I was. I was still cold and could do nothing to warm up.
I helped an older female find something for her granddaughter who had a music recital tonight. When I looked across the counter at her, there was nothing but my counter– and the flowers and her purse. But I dropped one of the coins and I bent to pick it up.
There was a note on the counter. With my name. In the same handwriting as before.
My throat closed, fingers tingling with panic. I quickly helped the lady along and stared at the piece of paper. Where the fuck did it come from. It was literally there in a second. What the actually fuck is going on?
“My dove, you know it’s rude to not write back. I don’t take kindly to indecency. But you won’t be able to avoid me forever. Rest up, dove. You’ll need it.”
Need it for what? My heart thundered against my ribs. Surely I should report this, but… but I didn’t want to. I don’t know why I didn’t want to, but I didn’t. It was probably just some kid trying to scare me. I kept telling myself that, but it hardly worked when I left, constantly checking over my shoulder.
I needed to head down the street to grab something for dinner. On the corner of the road was a group of people chatting loudly, a couple walking in front of me. There were people around. Good.
The Serpentine Supply was the only grocery store open this late. I made my way through the isles and plucked whatever looked good off the shelves. I could surely make… something with all of this.
When I headed out, there was no group on the corner. No couple walking in front of me. No crickets or last minute birds tucking themselves in for the night.
A silhouette was the only thing I saw. Tall, so tall, and muscular. A creeping shadow behind the figure, and as it moved, it revealed wings. So enormous they touched the ground despite his height.
I could almost recognize the face, but it looked vague. Like I had seen it before, but couldn’t recall where. Surely I’d remember a face that beautiful. Clearly High Fae. He shouldered off the wall, eyes set on me. I fled, almost dropping my bag, bolting in the opposite direction towards my home.
I heaved as I fell against the inside of my door. Curling my legs up, I listened for footsteps until I remembered the male had wings. Wings.
Fear coursed through me and I went to the safe under the cabinet in my room. I twisted the dial and plucked the dagger in my palm. I couldn’t breathe, let alone eat, so I sat at my kitchen table and waited to see if he would try to follow me in.
It could’ve just been a random male, I told myself. And it was probably more likely.
But what if that was- no. I can’t terrorize myself like that. This is all coincidental and I’m blowing all of this out of proportion. There is no reason someone would want to hurt me. But then again sometimes you don’t have to do something to have people want you-
Nope. Not going there.
_____
With basket in tow, I walked up the hillside to my personal field. Rows of still-in-season flowers greeted me as I rounded the crest. I lifted up my skirt and bent down, plucking the last of the summer blooms to be stored for the winter.
I was so happy when I discovered the preservation technique last Solstice so everyone could enjoy these beautiful flowers year round. I laid them all in the same direction, careful to not destroy the delicate petals.
It was actually a nice day, and the sun was warm despite a cooler breeze. The sundress I had put on was one I’ve worn a thousand times, the hemp dulled and frayed from years of wear and play in the dirt picking flowers and gardening. It was lightweight and easy to maneuver in. My feet were bare. No real need for shoes out here. I liked feeling the dirt between my toes anyway, shoes just got in the way and made my feet sweat.
I picked up a dahlia and laid it in the basket, reaching for another before I shrieked.
A dark tendril of something circled around it, through the petals and drenching it in darkness. I launched back away from it, hands breaking my fall.
“My dove, don’t you look pretty today,” a voice crept down my spine. I had only then realized I backed up into something solid. I scrambled, staring up at the figure. I had to shield my eyes from the sun, but a winged silhouette blocked it a second later.
Oh shit.
My brain fogged and words were long forgotten.
“It’s okay, dove. Don’t be afraid,” he spoke. His mouth curled into a feline smile when he took a step towards me, and I scooted back. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Oh, my pretty prey, don’t you see? You can’t run. You’re all alone out here, aren’t you?”
I shouldn’t answer, I can’t let him know that I’m all alone.
“N-No,” I stuttered, breathless and boneless. “No, I am not alone.”
“Don’t lie to me,” his tone sent a ripple down my back. “Even if you weren’t alone, there’d be nothing anyone could do.”
Fear prowled through me, and I think he could sense that. I anchored myself to the ground, prepared to bolt at any second and try to put as much distance as I could. Would it be useless? Probably. Would I go down with a fight? Absolutely. I’d kick and scream and-
“It’s so adorable to watch you think you have a chance,” he tilted his head, bending down over me. I took in those wings, that sharp jaw and even sharper eyes. His skin was flushed with a fine layer of sweat, and he smelled like an inferno.
My core tightened. My fingers and toes were numb with dread.
“Such a shame. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t ever be left alone. Someone could just come right up to you and take you as their own.”
“I told you I’m not alone,” I bit out.
He chuckled. Void of any real amusement and full of predatory hunger. “It’s okay, dove. I only want to take you for a little while, show you all the things that delicate body does to me. Only when I am satisfied will I give you back.”
A sob shuddered through me as he gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “P-Please don’t- please don’t hurt me-”
“Oh, I will. But it will feel so good for you. You’re going to cry. And beg. And scream. All for me. You’ll realize that no other male will be able to make you feel the things I can make you.” His voice was of the smoothest silk, but the words were so wrong. So repulsing. It certainly didn’t help when he looked so striking.
I swallowed, nothing going down. I shook with nothing but fear when his hand traveled down my chin, to my neck. He gripped, not cutting off air, but firm enough I knew I was fucked. I couldn’t move, I was paralyzed by his eyes.
This was it. This was going to happen.
I have to try and run. I have to try. I looked up and down his body, at his midsection crouched over my legs. I kicked up as hard as I could, sending him to the ground with a groan. I scrambled, as fast as I could, to my suddenly limp feet and ran. I sprinted into the woods, not daring to look back to see if he was following. I knew he was following.
My chest burned with the need for oxygen. I zig-zaged through the trees, stepping on branches and sharp stones. When I screamed, nothing came out. My voice was dead in my throat and I couldn’t scream. It felt like I was in a nightmare. Where all laws of physics are wiped away for the sake of terror.
How far I ran I didn’t know, but I couldn’t see my meadow from wherever I was. Who knew what was in these woods? I slowed my pace a little to catch my breath. I walked– more like jogging– through the thick brush. Thorns and bugs tore up my arms and legs.
Great. Now the sun was going down. Normally a Velaris sunset would put a beaming smile on my face. Right now? It only filled me with worry.
The soles of my feet were cut and filled with dirt. My trembling had slowed, but every new snap of a twig had it tumbling back into me. I kept my gaze on the vegetation in front of me, careful not to step on too many branches. The last thing I needed was to send a ripple of sound to what/whoever was after me.
I smacked face first into a tree. So hard my vision danced away from me. The back of my head hit the forest floor and I groaned, hugging it close to my chest. As I rolled onto my shoulder, I was forced onto my stomach. My voice filled me when I saw the scarred hand, belonging to the male I thought I left in the field.
“Where are you going, my prey? You think you can outrun a predator like me? Aww, my dove. You should know I love the chase, to see the fear in your eyes. Fear is one of our most primal instincts, fleeing only makes me want to hunt.”
He was heavy on top of me, hand fisting in my hair to force me up. I tried to fight against it, but I couldn’t move.
“Run again and I will have no choice but to hurt you. Though I bet you’d beg me to keep going.”
In a second, that same tendril-like shadow surrounded us. It filled every pore of my skin, every hole in my body. I felt like I was suffocating. That I was choking and couldn’t do anything to clear the obstruction. My eyes watered and I shrieked in my head.
As fast as it was there, it was gone. I sucked in breaths, coughing up the saliva that was trapped in my throat. When I opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was. The cold, smooth concrete under my palms and knees was no indicator. There was no light except a singular bulb overhead. There was a table in the middle bound with leather, and a wall lined with different weapons and tools.
“Have no fear, dove. I won’t be using all of them on you today,” the voice echoed, and I spun around, trying to find it. He was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Panicking, I ran towards one wall, hoping to find a door. I pounded at it with everything I had, nothing giving away.
It was solid stone.
“Please let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone about this,” I pleaded, sinking into the farthest corner. “Please I won’t-”
“I know you won’t, my dove,” the male emerged from the shadows. “But I don’t care.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks. “I don’t want this. Please, sir-”
“Master.” his voice boomed into the room. “Call me anything other than master and there will be consequences.”
I cowered against the wall, legs tucked up under myself. Maybe if I appease him then… “Please master I-”
“Would you look at that,” he grinned. A feral grin with a promise to bring pain. “My dove knows how to take orders. So good to know you have a desire deep down to please and cooperate.”
“I don’t want this.”
“I know you don’t, and that’s what makes me want you more, dove,” he knelt down in front of me again, tucking away some of the hairs in my face. Under any other circumstance, I’d find the movement comforting, reassuring maybe. This? This was haunting. Make-your-stomach-blanche haunting.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, daring a look in his green eyes. In another setting, I’d find them beautiful. But not this one.
“I’ve already told you. I will return you when I am satisfied,” the male flashed his white teeth. “Get up.”
He yanked me by my bicep and hurtled me out of the corner. My feet stumbled and he kept me upright, dragging me to the table. My lower back aches when I crash into it, but the table didn’t move. I gripped the edge for dear life while my eyes stayed locked on my captor.
My heart begged me to find safety. But there wasn’t a door, not a window in this chamber.
“Where am I?”
“Far from anything, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll take care of you, my dove. I won’t be kind, but I don’t want to kill you.”
Was it comforting? Sort of. Not really. No, it wasn’t comforting in any way. This male, this winged male, was going to do whatever he wanted. I’m at his mercy. His to play with, to decide what to do with, and I had no say in the process or the outcome.
He turned to face me after looking at the wall of tools and things. “Oh dove, why didn’t you say you were needy?”
I blinked at him, shifting on my feet. “I’m not needy. I just want to be let go.”
“You think I can’t smell the sweet scent between those legs of yours?” His gaze darkened, traveling up and down my trembling body. “I bet if I touched you you’d arch into me, wouldn’t you? You're all messy and ready for me, aren’t you?”
I shook my head, biting my lip. His massive hand wrapped around my throat, pulling me inches from his face. He ducked his head down, planting a kiss right below my ear. I shivered. No no no no no this was not about to happen.
His teeth nipped my ear and he exhaled, sending uninvited goosebumps across my arms and legs.
“Despite your best efforts,” he whispered, breath skimming me ignited skin. “You are arching into me. You want me to touch you, don’t you?”
I couldn’t move my head with his grip, which only tightened when I didn’t come up with a response quick enough. “No, no I don’t want you to touch me.”
“Pity,” he said. “Your body says otherwise. Even though I frighten you, have you at my will, you find it thrilling, little dove. Aww, see? You’re so hungry for my touch, my mouth, that you can’t even stay still. I know my dove needs it, she’s such a slut already and I haven’t even done anything.”
Impossible. It was impossible not to writhe at his words. Heat flooded my body in a moment. No, don’t want this. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.
He let out a cruel laugh, the vibrations prickling my skin. He manipulated my head where he wanted, pressing his mouth up my neck, across my collarbones. My eyes lulled shut, unintentionally letting my head fall back.
“Good girl, my dove.”
I gasped as his teeth grazed right where my vein pulsed under my skin. His hand roughly grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the table. They forced my knees apart and he stepped into the space. I whimpered.
“So vocal,” his voice was criminally sleek. “Be as loud as you want dove, no one can hear you scream.”
Again, not comforting.
“W-What are you going to do to me?” My voice bobbled, especially when he pulled off my body and stared at me.
“Ask me one more time and I will make you regret it.” There was no room for negotiation in his voice. “But, since you are such a curious little whore, I guess we can get started.”
The world whirled around me as he forced me chest down. I hung over the edge, blood rushing to my face. His hands grabbed the neckline of my dress and ripped it down the zipper. The bitterness of the dark room chilled me to my core.
A single one of his fingers felt its way down my spine. I kicked out, wiggling away from his fine touch. That finger left my back and came down hard on my ass. A scream tore through my body. The sting boomed across my skin, definitely leaving a raised welt in the shape of his hand.
“Keep still.” He ordered. I panted with the force of that smack. “I mean it dove, I don’t want to hurt you… too bad anyway.”
I tried to hold still as his hands explored my body. They were firm which helped. I could predict the patterns of his hands and the tension slowly slipped from my body. I relaxed a shoulder down to the table, then let my legs dangle.
“See? You’re already growing accustomed to my touch. Such a good little girl, my dove. I will reward you, you can keep pretending you don’t crave me as much as I crave you.”
My body was betraying me. I have this type of reaction. It was wrong. On so many levels.
But my goodness was he a stunning male.
Why I relaxed as he lifted the hem of my skirt up, I couldn’t ever say. But I was more embarrassed when he cooed at me, a soft, almost sweet noise coming from deep in his chest.
“Aww,” he sighed. “Nothing under this? All prepped and ready for me, dove? I should have known how much of a whore you’d be for more. So kind of you to make it so easy for me to use you. To have my unwavering way.”
“Master I- please don’t do this to me-”
“And would you look at that?” He palmed my ass apart. “You are a soaking wet mess. I am two for two, I wonder what else I am right about. I think you’ll like it when I touch you, so much you’ll come apart just after a few strokes. I think I can get you to cum on my cock as many times as I want, until you’re an incoherent, slobbering mess. What do you think, dove? If you agree I’ll make you feel sooo good.”
I was quivering. Fuck, he had been right. And I felt so ashamed about it. Nothing about this should be arousing, and yet, he was completely right. Cauldron boil me for this.
I nodded. Despite all the bells and whistles telling me to fight and keep going. I nodded.
“I knew you’d come around,” I could hear the sinister smile in his voice. “Get up, dove.”
Slowly, I lowered my feet to the ground and turned to face him. He reached around me and pressed a switch on the table. It began to move, angling itself on a slant. A panel came out at the bottom and the male flipped it up. “Step.”
Uh oh.
With a wary look at him, I stepped onto the small metal platform barely big enough to place my feet on. I face him, the dress barely clinging to my body. He grabbed one of my wrists and forced it over my head. A cuff of leather latched around it.
When I tried to yank it away, his free hand wound around my throat, cutting off all oxygen. I gargled, going slack in his grip.
“I told you if you tried to get away, I’d have to hurt you,” he shook his head. “My prey hasn’t learned her lesson.”
My eyes widened as he grabbed something off the wall behind me. The second he rounded to where I could see him, my heart blazed in my chest. There was a small sword in his hand and he spined it between his fingers aimlessly.
With two light-blurring moves of his arm, he cut off the sleeves to my dress and it pooled around my feet. I don’t know when I closed my eyes, but then they were open, staring down at my now naked body. “Defy my order again and I’ll cut you, do you understand?”
I nodded vigorously.
I still had one hand free, and I used it to try and cover myself. The male watched me twist and turn under his stare.
“Looks like I still have something to take care of,” he looked at the hand that was shielding the space between my thighs. Within a minute, he had gained control of my hand and I was tied up. Completely naked and exposed to him. “Much better.”
I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say. So I stayed quiet. I just watched his every move.
“What to do with you first,” he tapped his chin. “I should punish you for trying to get away from me again. But I think I just want to play with you a little bit more.”
He pressed another button, and the table tilted back so it wasn’t such a steep incline. My arms were already feeling strained as I tugged at the cuffs around my wrists. Most of my weight fell on my back, but gods my arms ached already.
This was it. Nothing I can do to stop this. Fear and dread and every other emotion bubbled up and out, sobs wracking through my chest.
“Don’t be afraid my dove,” his voice was anything but soothing as he dragged his fingers down my cheek. “I will make you feel so many good things. See? I only want to ruin you for anyone other than me. That’s it, my prey.”
His hand pinned my leg to the table, basically covering the entire thigh with his hand. He was so big. From his hands to his wings, even his shoulders were massive and otherworldly. A finger brushed up the crease of my hip, dipping into the mess on my skin. I jolted when he slid that finger between the tops of my thighs.
It was so light, so gentle in comparison to how he’s been. With a shaky breath, my eyes fluttered shut as I let him touch me.
“So soft, dove,” he praised. “Let's see how you taste. I hope it’s as sweet as those flowers of yours smell.” He let his tongue curl out and around the pad of his middle finger, eyes locked on mine. With a hum of approval, he grinned. “My dear dove, you taste so wonderful. I am going to undo you so many times so I can taste you over and over again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Yeah I know you do. Don’t worry, I will make you, whether you want to or not.”
Chills spread down my back and I arched off the table when he stuck two fingers inside me. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel great. Not until his thumb brushed over my clit, making me jump viscously.
“Tell me what you want, dove.”
I had to calm the inferno in my mind before I could speak. “Just- please…”
“Please what? Use those words of yours, slut. Or are you already too fucked out to form sentences?” That wicked mouth of his didn’t make it any easier.
“I want… more,” it came out a whisper. So tentative and meek I wasn’t sure if I had said it out loud.
“You want more, my prey?” I nodded. He let out a soul crippling laugh. “Just remember, you asked for this.”
His fingers picked up, and his mouth latched onto my breast. Teeth bit into the skin, and I knew it was the first mark of many to come. There was nothing to do except take what he was giving me. And right now, it didn’t feel bad. Pleasure ripped through with another brush of his thumb and my core tightened.
Sweat pricked my skin, my hair itching the back of my neck. I was so hyper aware of everything going on with my body it was impossible to focus on anything else other than that it started to feel good. Fuck. I was giving in. I need to resist. This was- this was wrong. And yet I was… I was enjoying it? He had to have drugged me or- or cast some sort of spell to make me react to his touch. I couldn’t find any of this desirable, could I?
“Would you like to cum, dove?” He stilled his hands, but my hips kept moving. “Are you that desperate? That you’re fucking yourself on my fingers?”
I stopped immediately. My mouth gaped open and closed for a response, but nothing came.
Two heartbeats later he shoved his fingers in so deep I pulled on the chains so hard I began to lift myself away from his touch. He pinned my thigh back to the table and circled my clit, drawing noises from me I so desperately wanted to keep inside.
There wasn’t anything I could do to convince him that I was repulsed by this. Because he and I both knew that I was into it. Problematically into all of this. I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I couldn’t let that little bit of control I needed to ground me. What control did I actually have? I had no power. Nothing to hold over him.
I was tied. To a table. In a room without a door. Cauldron knows where I am. Of course I had no power here.
But it… it filled me with fear. This primal fear, just like he said. And I couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted. And that was… that was…
Pleasure ripped through me, forcing me to arch off the table and scream out. I hadn’t given my body permission to lean into this. Fuck fuck fuck. It felt so good, his fingers pushing me further down that fine line between reality and euphoria.
“My dove, that was quick,” his eyes were full of hunger. And so were mine. “I knew you would come around. I knew a slut like you would give into those animalistic behaviors at some point. Now the rest of this will be seamless. All you have to do is stay there and let me fuck you until you go dumb with it.”
My legs were shaking, my pussy clenching on nothing as he ripped them from my body. I might have moaned. Just maybe.
The male hit the button again and my legs flew down to help support my weight. I had to press on my toes to take some of the pressure off my wrists; pins and needles shot down my fingers and arms from the lack of blood.
“What do you say, dove? Should I make you cum again? Yeah, I think I’m going to.”
He knelt to the floor and grabbed the back of my calf. I watched, still heaving from my first orgasm. He let it fall over his shoulder, doing the same with the other. Was he going to- oooh gods….
The first pass of his tongue sent my head rolling back, eyes with it. I bucked my hips into his face, meeting his carnal stare. He grinned, chin glistening with my mess. He looked… fuck he looked good. All those sharp, cunning features between my legs. My mind melted and all my morals went with it.
Here I was: chained to a table with a sadistic, obsessive male, and I was loving the sight of him between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? I didn’t have time to answer my own question as content filled me. He lapped over every inch of my entrance and didn’t let up.
“Gods… fuck- forgive me,” I whimpered out, feeling this overwhelming sensation begin to break apart my seams. I gasped, then screamed. His teeth latched onto the inside of my thigh. He bit me. Hard. Forceful enough to bring tears up and forceful enough to make me bleed.
“Now if any other male tries to take you, they’ll see my bite and know that if they don’t get out they’re going to be in a world of pain,” he muttered, brushing away the drops of blood with his hand. He resumed the flicks of his tongue, not letting up when I began to see stars.
“Ple-Please,” I shout, arching off the inclined surface and clamping my legs around his head. In a second, I was pinned to the table, his nails digging into the skin of my thighs. A brutal hand came down right over the bite, and I screamed. Fuck that hurt. “Ah- stop.”
“Why? Does it hurt, my prey? It’s fucking supposed to. Now shut the fuck up and take it. Stop acting like you don’t love this.”
I cried out, his tongue darting up and down my core. My stomach tightened in that familiar way, but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of another release. I had given him what he wanted, wasn’t that enough?
“Stop holding back.” Another claw of his nails at the backs of my thighs. “Cum now or I will make the next one far less enjoyable.”
I obeyed. I didn’t have a choice. My body just did it. I yelped, straining against the bindings so hard I knew they’d cut my wrists. With my hips pinned under his powerful hold, I twitched and writhed and shook with the force of my second orgasm. I couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop whining and begging him to stop licking me.
The male didn’t let up and tears fell out of my lashes. I sobbed. Sobbed. It was too much, too much pressure and pleasure it hurt. It stung. It burned and added to the ever growing pins and needles in my arms. They were numb, and couldn’t keep me up anymore.
My body flops fully against the table as he keeps a firm grip on me.
“M-Master please stop-” I begged, “please I need a break.”
Alas, he pulled his head away from my throbbing pussy. The sight of him was… Cauldron spare me. His hair was a tangled mess, and his eyes were full of his pupils. Black, affectionless pits in his face. He looked exactly as he said he was, a predator. A true, hungry, wild predator.
And I had made him that way.
“I’m far from done, my dove,” he rose to his full height, tilting the table all the way back. Relief flooded my arms. “I think you’re ready for something else.”
He came around to my head and I watched him, upside down, the light hurting my eyes. He shed the belt around his waist and let it fall to the floor with a loud ‘clang’. His scarred hand put the button through its slit and I could see the outline of him through his pants.
Holy Mother send me a blessing.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be able to fit it.”
“No,” I shook my head. “No that will not fit in my-”
“Well, it’s going to. Open wide, pretty dove. Fuck… look at you. All spread out for me, pink and flush. You look so mouthwatering. So perfect for me to ruin and bruise.”
With another click of a button, the cuffs above my head began to move down. The blood rushed back and I sighed out. They were now at my sides. When I dared a look back up, the male had dropped his pants. Mother fucking- that is not going to-
“Open,” He demanded, palming my jaw. I was in too much shock at the sheer size to really hear it. A slap struck me in the face, and I jolted to the side. “Now. Make me ask again and see what I will do with this.”
My jaw unhinged and he slipped in. I choked, bending my legs to try and gain some leverage. Cool streaks slithered up my feet and around my ankles. they yanked, the force of it pulling me off his cock, and I looked down at the tendrils of shadow curled around my skin.
“What the fuck-” I shouted until I couldn’t breathe anymore. The male had come around the front of my head and slammed a hand against my throat. The pressure built up in my face, and I coughed, choking on what little air I had left. His eyes were narrow, a snarl on his lips.
After a few moments, the stars were back, and the room dimmed. Heart pounding. I was right there, so close to losing consciousness when air rushed back into my lungs. I thought I was going to throw up with how hard I was breathing.
He grabbed my hair and forced me down, shoving his cock back into my throat. All the way. I gagged. I was fully stretched out on the table as he rocked his hips into me. He was tall enough that the table wasn’t a hindrance.
“I told you dove, bad things happen when you disobey me.”
He almost put me unconscious. My head was foggy, and my vision was still laced with stars. I had no other choice but to take what he was doing. Just like he said I would.
When I closed my eyes, I let my throat relax. He praised me, sinking in further and further. Every other thrust I got a breath. He pulled out once and let the tip of his cock trace around my lips so I could catch a breath. Instead of waiting for him to decide when I was done, I stuck my tongue out in acceptance.
“My prey is learning so quickly,” he stroked a massive hair down my throat, pressing in. I could feel it prod against the surface of my skin, right where his hand was. “I bet you can feel that, huh? How far down I am?” A quick clench of his digits sent fear rolling back through my body. I couldn’t breathe again- “Shh, I won’t let you suffocate on my cock. There are far too many things we still have left to do. Just relax- that’s it. Look at you! Such a pretty whore, already wrung out on my cock. And I haven’t even been inside you.”
I swallowed around him when he removed his hand. That earned me a deep, rumbling sound from his chest. In the past couple minutes, his voice had dimmed to nothing but a growl. Like he was turning into an animal.
It was so thrilling.
With every snap of his hips, my whole body rocked with it. Wetness pooled onto the table and I could feel it smear against my skin. He reached down and pulled at my nipple, sending shocks all through my body.
“Yeah you can take more. I want you a whimpering mess, you still have a ways to go, don’t you dove?” I nodded my head as best I could. “That’s what I thought.”
His hips snapped into my face, cock stabbing my throat. It was so painful, and my lungs burned for a full breath again. Nothing about the way he was forcing it in told me he was going to let me have one. It could’ve been minutes or hours that he fucked my throat. I wouldn’t have the slightest chance of talking in the morning. And part of me didn’t mind that thought. Or the thought of seeing his marks across my skin.
I moaned around him. I watched his head draw back, and heard what that had done to him. “Do that again, don’t stop.”
An endless supply of them tumbled out of me and around him. His hips stuttered for a second. Both of his hands palmed the side of my head, bringing it to meet his motions. One-two-three-four-five more later and he shoved all the way in, blocking my airway entirely. Long ropes of cum shot down my throat, forcing me to swallow. Some came back up into my nose.
When he pulled out, I nearly hurled. The taste wasn’t bad, but the need for air was. I gulped it down, eyes unable to keep themselves open. I could barely feel the cuffs loosen from my writs. I was a limp pile of used limbs. Exactly what he wanted.
I felt like I was in the clouds.
The next thing I knew was I was on the ground and the freezing concrete woke me up. My hands and knees stung and shook. I felt weightless and like I was a ton at the same time. I couldn’t keep myself up, arms giving out as I went face first into the floor.
All I could hear behind me was the male rugged breathing. Two agonizing slaps were planted on my ass. A garbled scream tore through the air as he did it again. And again. It eventually became so painful I couldn’t feel it. My chest was flat against the ground.
“I am gonna fuck you,” he told me. “And I am going to hurt you so fucking good. You’re gonna scream and cry until you can’t. I’m gonna fill you all the way up, too. So much it’ll drip out of you for the next hour.”
The tip of his cock swirled through the mess between my legs. “Please, master. Fill me up.”
“That’s it dove,” he pushed in, inch by inch. “Fuck that feels good. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me. You’re all mine. All fucking mine to use and breed and fuck whenever I want.”
If I had been anywhere other than wherever I was, people would surely be breaking down my door to rescue me. But I would shew them away and beg for him to continue. He was right. Fuck he felt good inside me. I don’t know how he fits. But then he kept going. And he kept pushing.
“Look at you, taking my cock like it’s nothing. You look so fucking pretty, my little dove. Fuck yourself on it. Fuck me like the useless, hopeless little creature you are. Maybe if you do a good job, your predator will let you go so he can hunt you again.”
My body was his at that moment. It wasn’t my own to begin with. He had full command over me. And I was happy to let him. I rocked back on my knees, my aching nipples brushing against the floor every time I did.
The noises were obscene; from our breathless pleas to his cock slipping in and out of my thoroughly soaked pussy… it was the most sinful symphony I had ever heard.
With earnest I rocked into him until he took over. One hand fisted in my hair and he yanked me up. I couldn’t be bothered to use my arms to help, I let him do all the work. His other hand brushed to where we were connected and over my clit.
I had already come twice, I didn’t know if I could a third. But he was going to make me, whether I wanted to or not. Just. like. He. Said.
The sound of our bodies echoed off the walls around us. He cursed deep in his chest while I had the breath fucked out of me. I had to catch myself when he threw my head down so I wouldn’t smack my nose off the stone. He hauled my ass into the pocket of his hips and hovered over me, forcing his body to align with mine.
His now bare chest was flat against my back, hard muscle contracting as he angled his pelvis into mine over and over. It was a brutal, erotic pace. His promise rang in my head: all fucking mine to use and breed and fuck whenever I want.
“Yeah take it you fucking whore. Take what your master is giving you,” his voice was distant in my ears. His nails scraped groves in the skin of my back, and I let go. I screamed. the tears came and didn't stop. All those emotions– fear, dread, desire– making their way to the surface and erupting as I came again. For a third time. “Fuck, my dove. Again? Gods you are such a slut for my cock. You love this. Being used by me. You’re fucking nothing without my cock to fuck. You were born for me to fuck this tight cunt of yours. To breed.”
I don’t know if my orgasm ever stopped or if they just kept rolling over into the next.
“My pretty cunt to use. Mine. All fucking mine, isn’t it? Say it dove, who does this body belong to?”
“Y-You, master,” I strangled out through cries and breaths. “It’s all yours, my master.”
His hands crashed down on my shoulders and pinned me to the floor so I wouldn’t move. I wouldn’t move even if I could. And I don’t. I want to stay right here, head far away from all my daily responsibilities as he pounds into me.
My master’s hips were ruthless. Every pump of his body into mine set my skin on fire. I had never felt pleasure, or pain, quite like this before. I’d never be the same again. He forced me to change to him. And I couldn’t ever change back. There was nothing I could do to stop him from breeding me. And I didn’t want to stop him.
“F-Fuck, my dove. I’m gonna breed you. Fuck it so deep inside you’ll never have a chance. Ready?”
“Yes yes yes yes yes,” I was incoherent. “Please, master. Fuck me so goooood.”
The noise that came out of him should have terrified me. But it didn’t. He let out a snarl so deep it rattled my bones, rattled the table and the floor with the force of it. I could feel his release inside me, but his hips never slowed. The nails on his fingers caught my skin and ripped it. I’m sure it’ll look like I was attacked by a wild animal in the morning. In a way I was.
He was feral, snarling and snapping behind me. It was either sweat or saliva that dripped onto my back.
It went on for a little longer, and then he forced his cock farther than it had pierced a new part of me that I hadn’t ever felt before. I couldn’t tell up from down, right from wrong in the next several minutes as he fucked into me, pushing and pushing and pushing as much of himself as he could into me. I went completely limp and he landed on top of me.
His warm body was shaking above mine, sweat soaking into my skin.
Neither of us spoke, neither of us moved.
When he stirred, he pulled out, making me feel impossibly empty while he rolled me on my back. Then it was back in, and I sighed contently.
“Would you look at that,” his voice cracked slightly. “My pretty dove has entered a true in between state. You can’t decide what to feel, can you?” The male's hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. I could barrel keep my eyes open anymore, and he let out the cruelest sound I’ve ever heard. “Such a worthless prey. You can’t even speak you're so enthralled with me. What a sight to see.”
It didn’t even occur to me that we had never kissed until this instant. His lips were warm and hurried as they claimed mine. I melted into it, especially when he curled his tongue over mine. He moved his hips steadily as he did, drawing in and out a few times before he stayed put.
I was so many things– ruined above all of them. I didn’t know if I would walk again, if I’d be able to see a dahlia in the garden and not be instantly transported back to these memories.
Here I was, spent and limp, still at his mercy. And despite the moral side of me, begging me to be disgusted and horrified… I wasn’t. And I wasn’t guilty about it either. I should be, absolutely should be mortified by this whole thing. Yet I wanted- no, I needed it to keep going. To be taken at any point and whisked away from life to be played with. To be hunted.
It would be a secret I’d take to the grave. Not anything I’d tell anyone. I would keep this between me and the fucking devil. No one else could know how much I craved to be stripped of my rights and dignity.
I was moved, despite my protests, and hauled over a shoulder. That same suffocating shadow filled me once more and then the stars said hello. With what little energy I had left, I lifted my head off his shoulder and peered around. My meadow greeted me. The bugs and all there too.
The male slid me off his body and laid me down in the grass. I had also become dressed at some point, my dress put back together.
“You are free for now, my little prey. But I will find you again, and I will hunt you down no matter where you run to.”
I nodded up at him, a delightful smile on my lips. With a breeze from the crisp autumn air, he was gone, one with the shadows again. I laid there for a moment, not really having a ton of memories of what just happened. All I knew was that I had this ache in my body that filled me with satisfaction.
____
The stars twinkled above me as I pushed to a sitting position, waiting for a while for my mate to come get me. With a mighty beat of his wings, he landed in front of me, that feral look in his eyes gone since we left that underground room.
“Let’s get you home, my love,” he smiled sweetly, sweat still curling the ends of his hair. I reached my hands up and he gently pulled me to my feet. “I love you so much, Yn. So so much. It was perfect.”
“I know,” I smiled up at him. “I was pretty good.”
“Are you hurting?” I gave him a look that said ‘yes, you idiot, of course I’m hurting’. “Okay yeah stupid question. Let’s go clean you up and then we can soak in the tub and go to bed. I’m sorry if I-”
“Shh,” I curled right into his chest when he lifted me up, kissing the side of his neck. “I didn’t safeword, did I?”
“Well, no but that doesn’t mean-”
“Yes it does. I may have been under, I may have been afraid, but I was aware. It was everything I could’ve imagined.”
“You’re sure?” he asked again.
I nodded, slurring my words with sleep. “ ‘mm sure. Can we go home now?”
“Of course. You are everything I could ever ask for. Thank you for doing that with me.”
“You’re very welcome,” I chuckled.
~~~~~~
[This is just a little bit of background building and the initial conversation between the reader and Azriel about the roleplay. I didn't add it in the beginning because I thought it might break the illusion. Feel free to read or not!]
Azriel had parts of him he was ashamed of. Things he’s done in the past that he is most certainly not proud of, but have become a vital part to who is and why he is that way. There’s nothing that can change those parts of him, not even his mate.
When the two of you first met, it was a thing of the universe. Completely unintentional. You had been delivering a bouquet of flowers from your shop in Velaris; they were the finest ghost orchids and water lilies grown in the Court. A simple pen error on your note card sent you to two houses over from the one that was supposed to receive them.
When you knocked on the door, your heart began to strike faster in your chest. It was an odd feeling to say the least. The door opened and a male answered the door. He had black hair and had the most captivating eyes you’ve ever seen. His voice was like silk when it hit your ears.
“Can I help you?” He asked, folding his arms across his sculpted chest. He was dressed down; a simple shirt and combat pants and boots.
It took a moment for you to conjure up a response. “I have a delivery. For… Sherion?”
“They live two houses to the left.”
“Oh,” you sighed out, looking back at your card. Surely you had written down the right address, or maybe they accidentally gave you the wrong house number? The row of houses stretched far around the bend of the street, it wasn’t the most impossible thing. “Well, sorry to bother you. Thank you for your help, sir.”
“Azriel,” he introduced, stretching out his hand.
“Yn,” you replied, offering the male a smile before you stepped down onto the sidewalk. “Enjoy your day!”
Azriel had no idea why he answered the door. Him and his High Lord were in the middle of a very important Court discussion and before the words were even out of Rhysand’s mouth, he was up and moving to answer it.
And there you were. Standing right in front of him. This small, utterly defenseless faerie, compared to him. You looked so wonderful. That was the only word he could think of: wonderful. You looked enjoyable to be around and comforting. There was a calm to your aura that instantly soothed the roar of the shadows in his ears.
You looked like everything he wasn’t. You were smooth and soft and unburdened by the weight of your past. Azriel was exactly that. Burdened. Solid. A bastard born Illyrian who had grown up in the cruelest way. Nothing about him was loving. Sure he loved and protected his brothers and the rest of his Court, but he hasn’t ever had one soul all to himself. To love and cherish and spoil with the part of him he didn’t let anyone see. But if he could ask you to give him a chance, he wouldn’t ever take it for granted.
How he managed to keep his cool, he’ll never know, but as soon as the door shut, he leaned against it, fingertips filled with static as he closed his eyes. He knew that feeling. The one he had with Mor all those years ago, with Elain. But now it was crystal clear. The other ones had been clouded by hundreds of years of rejection. Not this.
It had taken him a few days to find you, which wasn’t hard. He told Cassian first, who more or less shouted it across the room for Rhysand to hear. The both of them encouraged him to speak with you, to get a better idea if there was any type of bond at all on your end.
Azriel couldn’t tell when he met you, he brain was too busy being turned to mush by your beauty and grace.
But, eventually, he wandered into your shop at the end of the business sector of Velaris. It was cute, and had your scent all over it mixed in with the calming presence of fresh flowers and other plants.
The door opened with a chime and he stepped in. The first thing that happened when he shut the door was he knocked over a pot behind it. It shattered on the floor, and he let out a curse.
“Shit,” Azriel whirled around, wings clattering into some windchimes hanging in the window. They fell, thankfully they didn’t break, but they did make a jarring noise. “Cauldron boil me.”
“What is going on?” Your voice rang over the chaos at the front of the store, and when you appeared, your eyes settled on Azriel, and he looked around at the mess he made.
“I am so sorry, Yn. I didn’t see the pot behind the door and then these things,” Azriel sneered at the windchimes, “came down with it all. It’s a disaster, please, let me help clean it up.”
He watched you look from the pot, to the chimes, to the dirt on his wings. You laughed, so hard you clutched your stomach as you looked at the wary Illyrian.
“It’s okay, sir. It’s not a big deal. I have about a thousand pots in the back that are just laying around.”
“Then let me pay for it, and any of the chimes that I broke,” he tried to smooth his face into anything other than bitter self-resentment, but he probably did a poor job.
“Nonsense, it was an accident. And I guess I could make my shop a little more accessible to those with wings. It’s not every day that we have Illyrians here.”
The fact that you were willing to rearrange things in your store to accommodate him made his heart swell. Surely there was a blush to his tan skin when he rubbed the back of his neck.
Azriel couldn’t help but notice the clay smothering your hands, bits and pieces stuck on your face and in your hair. You wore working overalls and a long sleeve striped shirt. The ends of your pants were cuffed and your boots were laced all the way up.
He thought you looked adorable. Utterly adorable and he just wanted to cherish you.
You had similar thoughts about Azriel. That he was devastatingly handsome and outrageously gorgeous. Tall, dark hair, and lighter colored eyes. They were a perfectly crafted shade of hazel. The Mother took her time with this one.
You cleared your throat, trying not to blush at your obvious staring. “Is there something I can help you find?”
It took him a second to shake his thoughts together, “Yes, I did come here to buy flowers. Not to destroy your property.”
You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. “What are you looking for?”
“In all honesty I am not really sure. I’m trying to make a gesture, of sorts.”
“I see,” you nodded, looking over your shoulder. “Roses are always romantic, but a little over done in my opinion. There’s always succulents too, everybody always forgets about those guys. They make lovely gifts, are low maintenance, and more difficult to kill.”
“Interesting,” Azriel nodded along. “What about these?”
“These are wild bouquets. They are grown in the Hills, just field flowers but they look stunning all put together. A lot of them are imports from other Courts, brought here long before Prythian was Prythian. They grow freely in the plains and farmland.”
“Do they all have their own names or are they all just classified as wildflowers?” Azriel couldn’t have given a less of a fuck about what they were classified as, he just enjoyed hearing you talk about something you were obviously passionate about.
You looked at him like a normal person, not at the scars on his hands or the wings over his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what to think of it all. You didn’t fear him, which was odd enough, and you didn’t avert your eyes. It was like you didn’t know who he was, which was going to be hard to believe. But if, by some miracle, you didn’t, he would be grateful. So so grateful.
“Yeah, these are lavender, baby breath, candy fruit, blue flax… whatever is blooming is picked and wrapped up. These are just seasonal, there aren’t too many flowers that bloom wildly in Velaris outside of spring and summer, and even then it’s difficult to grow without a greenhouse.”
“I see, I see,” the Illyrian said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll grab one of those then. And one of those succulents you were talking about.”
With a clap of your hands, you snatched up a fuller set of wildflowers and set them on the counter by the register. On a shelf beside a display of pots and vases, you looked around before finding a great candidate. It was in a lovely array of echeveria in a triangular prism.
“Will that be all?” You asked, typing in the total and showing him.
“Yes,” he nodded once, handing you a palm-full of coins. “Please keep the change.”
“But- I don’t understand, this is twice the amount of the total cost?”
“I broke one of your lovely pots, it’s the least I can do.”
“You know I could rehydrate that, throw it again and make the exact same one in less than an hour, right?”
Azriel blinked. “Then consider it a shop donation.”
You looked from the change in your hand, to the man in front of you, back to the change. “I won’t be able to get you to take this back, will I?”
“No,” Azriel smirked, taking the flowers and succulent off the counter. “Thank you for your kindness, Yn.”
“Yours as well, Azriel.”
______
When it came time to close down the shop, you hauled in the signs outside advertising the sale for the day. You wiped the counters and swept the floors, fixing a few things on the chimes that got knocked over earlier. As you locked up, there was a rush of air behind you, making you jump.
“Mother above!” you shouted, clutching your chest when Azriel stood behind you. “What are you doing here?”
Azriel didn’t say anything as he tucked in his wings, extending the bouquet he bought just hours ago to you.
“Oh, did you need to exchange them? I can run back inside and get you a new one if-”
“They’re for you, Yn,” he said. “I was hoping to catch you as you were leaving to ask if you’d like to come have dinner with me?”
With a sparkle in his eye, a smirk on his lips, it was pretty hard to say no. Not that you wanted to say no anyway. It was pretty obvious that both of you were attracted to each other, in more ways than one. You were worried that it had been one sided.
And that was how it all started. One silly little typo of an address led you to the most devoted, selfless, and understanding male you could’ve asked for. Azriel could do it all. It took a while to get to that place, but it happened. It took a while to gain his full trust, but once you did, there wasn’t an area of his life you didn’t know about and admire.
He was so brave. So tenacious and powerful. Not to mention all of the other lovely physical aspects you learned about. Every aspect of your relationship was stunning. So rich and enjoyable. Every day was truly a new adventure with Azriel and the rest of his family; not to mention how awesome everyone else had been. Well, mostly everyone. Nesta and Amren were a little hard to crack, but Cassian, Feyra, and Rhysand quickly became some of the most important people in your life.
As time went on, more and more things were revealed between the two of you. The mating bond clicked and it was like taking a first breath all over again. It was over stimulating, in an unexplainably pleasant way.
Being able to feel, to hear everything the other was thinking was an experience you wouldn’t ever grow tired of having.
Azriel was tender, as tender as he knew how to be with you. He did a lot of learning from you on how you wanted to be loved, and vice versa. Azriel was complicated, but that didn’t make him unlovable by any means. It only made you love him more, just so he knew that he could be.
He wasn’t pushy about getting you into his bed, but you certainly didn’t mind taking that leap at one of the first hints. If his beauty was an indicator of just how thorough he was, boy were you in for a rude awakening.
He was flawless between your legs. So calculated and willing to give. But you quickly learned there were other sides to him you wanted to explore.
It started slowly, calling him ‘sir’ here and there to get a rise out of him. Which only leads to him asking you to try new things with him. You had always been a ‘why not try everything once’ kind of person. Extending beyond the bedroom. Azriel never pressured you to do something you didn’t want to, and there was almost nothing that he suggested that you rejected.
From a little bit of bondage to taking you in other areas of the House, it started slow, and then progressively got more and more intense. More real domination and exploration. The list of things that turned you on was growing rapidly thanks to him.
One day, while the two of you were sitting in your home, it was clear there was something on his mind.
____
READER POV
I watched as Azriel adjusted himself in his chair for the fifth time in ten minutes. He was squirming and outright fidgeting.
“Okay, what is going on with you? I’ve never seen you like this before.” I paused my flower arrangement and sat down in front of him.
Azriel wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Love, what is it?”
He let out a sigh, deep and heavy and full of something he clearly didn’t want to speak about. “I was just thinking… It's nothing important. I don’t want to ask it of you anyway.”
“Why not?” I furrowed my brows. “You know there isn’t anything you could say to me that would make me cower.”
“That’s exactly what I want.” Your breath caught in your throat. Azriel shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve had this- this fantasy of you for a long time and it is something so dark and outright dangerous that I’ve been afraid to ask.”
A chill spread down my spine when he looked at me. Those eyes meant trouble; whenever we roleplayed, he got this look, this look, when I disobeyed him. It could’ve crumbled anyone to their knees. But me? It lonely lit me on fire.
“Azriel, tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You know I will not judge you,” I stressed, swinging a leg over his lap, laying my hands over his shoulders. “I promise.”
His hands found my thighs, which he rubbed to soothe himself. He took in a deep breath before he spoke.
“Do you remember when we went to Summer? After the wedding?”
That was totally not what I was preparing for. “Yes? Of course I do.”
“Well, when Tarquin let us into those fields, and you were just picking flowers… I couldn’t help but think about how delicate you looked. You looked so peaceful and alone and I couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable you were. How easy you would be to overpower with your back turned. You’d be defenseless and- gods I sound ridiculous.”
“No, no you don’t. Keep going.”
“Yn it doesn’t get better,” Azriel clenched his jaw. “I shouldn’t have these thoughts and I know it’s wrong-”
“There is nothing wrong with having a fantasy and expressing it to me.”
His eyes were wide, lips parted. Azriel’s grip tightened on your hips. “I wanted to do nothing but force you to take me. To just- completely control you and have my way with you. You looked so innocent and perfect in the sundress and I wanted to ruin it. Ruin you. All over again. But with this animalistic part of me that I’ve never met. And then I just kept thinking about chasing you. Hunting you down and capturing you and tying you up. Fucking you senseless and forcing you to take whatever I wanted to do to you.”
I stared at him. And stared at him again. Fucking fuck… Azriel wanted to hunt me? To do things that most certainly shouldn’t have me writhing against him. He was already hard just talking about doing it. And I definitely shouldn’t have found it so hot.
He was right, it was a little sick and fucked up, but it was such a thrilling idea.
Azriel had this presence about him. Everyone he passed on the street was afraid of him. He drank it in. He loved when people were afraid of him. Well, everyone except me. He couldn’t stand the sight of seeing me scared, or at least I thought.
Images flashed in my mind: of running through the woods, unable to escape him as he chased me. Hunger written all over his face. Azriel effortlessly overpowering me. Forcing me to his hands…
“Oh, I see,” he startled me out of my daydream. Shit, I must’ve sent those images down the bond. “My little dove enjoys that thought, doesn’t she?”
“I don’t dislike it, if that’s what you mean,” I rasped, looking at him through half-hooded eyes.
“You want me to hunt you, don’t you?”
I shouldn’t nod. I really fucking shouldn’t. But he already had me under his spell, and I could not say no. The idea was so tempting, so profound and beyond anything we’ve ever done that I couldn’t think of anything more exhilarating. It would be terrifying, he would be terrifying, but there would be this primal fear coursing through me… secretly wanting all of it.
“Say it.”
“I want it, Az.”
“Want what?” He grabbed my chin, forcing my lips apart. “You have to say it, dove.”
My chest rose and fell quickly, already feeling that power of his in my blood. Through the bond. “I want you to hunt me. To capture me.”
Azriel's eyes physically changed colors in that moment. They went dark. Very dark. He bared his teeth, nostrils flaring as he moved his hand to my throat. “I am going to vanish and you are not going to be able to see me coming. I am going to hunt you like the pretty little dove that you are and there isn’t anything you can do to stop it. You can run, you can pray to whatever you believe in, but no one will be around to save you when I come for you.”
I nodded, eyes fixed on his lips. “How- how should I prepare?”
Azriel let out a dark laugh, pulling me right to his face. “Oh, my pretty little dove, you won’t be able to. It’ll be so unpredictable that you won’t know what's happening. I’ll even make the bond go dark. There will be nothing loving about what I am going to do to you.”
_______
My hand had already found its way between my thighs on the first night. Thoughts wild with what's to come. Of course I know it’s just Azriel, but I know that it’s not going to feel like Azriel. To look or sound like him. He was going to hunt. Me. And I was going to let him.
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;R1999 DIKKE - General Headcanons
Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Dikke as a character and other related things.
as promised, here's the Dikke post where I go deranged talking about her, since it was one of the two with the most votes in the poll <3
the other popular result was to talk about the parallels and use of racial issues within the story, how the game replaces actual racism for fantasy racism (arcanists vs humans) - so that one will deffo take me some time!
On the subject of justice and Dikke's inspirations.
I've seen some people say that Dikke is based on Joan of Arc, given her righteousness and religious themes - but there are so many more details about her design that point toward other figures!
Like, really. A lot of references to law and deities of justice all throughout history and different cultures.
The most obvious one is Dike, "goddess of justice and the spirit of moral order and fair judgement". In Dikke's interview with Pandora Wilson, they literally address her as "the goddess of justice". And a small statue of Lady Justice, the personification of justice that originates from Justitia (roman equivalent of Dike) can be seen in her insight 2 garment.
It goes without saying that Dikke's sword is another symbol representative of the previously mentioned figures - but to have only the sword and not the scales could have some implications about her way of imparting justice.
I would like to point out that Dikke's sword has these two dangling pieces that allude to the scales she's missing in her design. And sure, it might be a reach, but given how much detail and thought goes into the characters of the game and their designs, I really believe this is the case!
On Dikke's items, we also get the name and description for the sword.
The name alone leads me to believe that Dikke's weapon and its design represents both the sword and the scales of Lady Justice, it's the totality of justice itself. Dikke WIELDS justice, she ENFORCES justice, she IS justice. You're going to get really tired of me repeating the word justice in this post, but bear with me!
On the subject of swords, there are two swords mentioned all throughout Dikke's in-game profile and information. Her insight 2 garment is titled "Sword of Hamurabi".
This is evocative of something called the "Code of Hammurabi", one of the longest legal texts dating back to the first dynasty of Babylon. According to wikipedia, this stele it also depicts yet another deity of justice, Shamash. Wikipedia also makes note of the prologue within the Code of Hammurabi, in which the author - Hammurabi - claims to have been given these rules "to prevent the strong from oppressing the weak". This is extremely relevant to Dikke, as someone who fought hard for the rights of arcanists.
Pandora Wilson: I have heard many legends about you. The violent ghost of punishment, the crime-slaying sword of execution, the goddess of justice, the people's savior...
Dikke: The desperate always need hope.
The stele of the Code of Hammurabi is ALSO relevant, because the artifact that follows Dikke around explicitly "belongs to some ancient stele". Yet another object that embodies justice and law.
I won't pretend I know anything about Babylonian culture or history in general, so anyone with more insight on this is welcome to add on to details and corrections!
The second sword mentioned can be found in the title for her 02 Story - "The Sword of Damocles".
This excerpt seems to be written by one of Dikke's coworkers, perhaps someone in a higher position of power since they mention being able to give others a day off. Overall, we're reading the thoughts of someone who is abusing their power and who does not think highly of Dikke.
"The story of Damocles is but a story" is something that Dikke herself says. At the end, there's a different phrase written and crossed out - "But the story of justice is not just a story".
Now, the anecdote of Damocles talks about how positions of authority and power are double-edged swords - a king may have all the riches and fortune in the world, but also be burdened with the anxiety of knowing there might be someone plotting against him. In the story, Damocles switches places with king Dionysus, to know what it's like to be a king, but to really make Damocles understand the position of king, a sword is placed above him - one that can fall and kill him at any moment.
With this in mind, Dikke's 02 Story becomes more clear - the first phrase is a warning given by Dikke herself to those in positions of power. The story of Damocles is a story, because not everyone will understand the consequences of being in a position of power. Not everyone will be given the opportunity to even reach such a position.
The author of the 02 Story is not a good person, only considering the idea of giving people HALF a day off, excluding those who work on the fields who will get nothing, refusing to lower taxes for the poor, and imprisoning someone who "interfered with the lord's land acquisition".
The sword of Damocles is also used to allude to the impending tragedy for those in positions of power, caused by the smallest of catalysts. So it makes sense to me that the final phrase, the one crossed out at the end, was either written by Dikke or alludes to the demise of this author at her hand.
And while we're at it, might as well talk about the last remaining item - her robes. Judges are required to wear these when working on trials, but Dikke is specifically stated to wear them outside of them - because she's always imparting justice. She's the opposite of Oliver Fog, she's always on the clock.
We haven't even gotten to another big aspect of Dikke's character - the fact that she's part of the Inquisition.
Without getting too much into actual historical events, the Inquisition as we know it focused on heresy and the conversion and persecution of Jews and Muslims. Within the game, this is recontextualized as a focus for arcanists instead. It's worth noting that her 01 and 02 Stories are written from the perspective of those who are in support of the Inquisition and its practices, or who profit from abusing their own power - hence the wording of "the Inquisition has been abused and considered evil by the ignorant."
There is an emphasis on how the Inquisition seeks power, while Dikke's final goal is justice.
This whole thing and yet another part from her interview with Pandora Wilson, is related to how Dikke associates herself with the corrupt and allows people to view her as a needlessly violent person for the sake of setting things right. On one hand, she could associate with the Inquisition and become a bishop to destroy corruption from inside out - on the other, she could acknowledge that to impart justice, one needs power because they're things that go hand in hand. The Inquisition is only able to have this much influence over trials for arcanists because of the common hatred towards arcanists throughout history.
The interview revolves around all the rumours surrounding Dikke, and we can see her showing distaste at the idea of cooperating with "what [she] shouldn't allow for the sake of justice" while at the same time, not denying her involvement with them. All the things she does are a means to an end.
Pandora Wilson: Does that mean you will cooperate with what you shouldn't allow for the sake of "justice"?
Dikke: Fie.
Pandora Wilson: Is that supposed to be a secret?
Dikke: It sounds like we are talking about a conspiracy, yet it is but a means.
As for Dikke's own relationship with justice and her personal views outside of all the historical references used to create her character, I think this voiceline she has pretty much sums things up nicely.
Everything I doth… is so I may enjoy this calm wind on nights like this, rather than hear the sorrowful cries and moans of unhappiness.
She's a character that is strict in her ways and doesn't shy away from the darker aspects of life, such as the injustice arcanists have been subjected to for centuries. This extreme focus she has for upholding justice does cause Dikke to appear cold, and yet her ideals are almost childish, pure even - a world in which all misdeeds are punished and all good people are heard. Hell, her Ultimate literally purifies all negative statuses.
Dikke could easily lean towards righteous characters who exclusively see things as black or white, yet many of her voicelines and the origin of her devotion, show a very gentle heart. This is made clear by the fact that she's a healer.
Her two attacks and their names speak volumes about her own ways of thinking. Power is violent, power is not something that a judge should have so carelessly, but it is allowed in the name of "justice". Justice in quotations.
And then, actual justice is a rare occurrence, being merciful is not something that rules and the law take into account, but it's needed for those who cannot defend themselves.
On the subject of Dikke's backstory.
There's no resolution to this point, it just came up randomly while writing the previous one, because it just hit me that Dikke's Cover profile does not list where she was born. And that got me thinking about the fact that before settling down, she traveled all around Europe.
First of all, the Roman Catholic Diocese of Pamiers is an extremely specific location - one that has ties to the Inquisition, as a very important document regarding the Inquisition's procedures during a very specific trial was found there, as far as I know with my surface level research into history references. This document also talked about how, within this trial, the inquisitor and the bishop had "almost equal responsibility".
We can assume that this is the place where Dikke became bishop officially, if this was her final destination.
This starts to fall within headcanon territory, since it's mostly speculation, but I feel that the 02 Story takes place before she becomes bishop and settles in Pamiers - as a member of the inquisiton, she must've traveled all over Europe to do her job.
There might also be something related to the name mentioned, "Murville", but I don't have time nor the brain to start connecting the dots with actual french history. All in all, I like to think that Dikke was given the position of bishop as an attempt to distance her from, you know, killing every single corrupt person in a position of power by keeping her in a single place.
None of her voicelines give away anything about her life prior her entire journey of justice, as far as I can tell.
If we take Dikke's ties with Joan of Arc, maybe she was a common girl roped into things beyond her control. But I personally don't like the interpretation of Dikke's ideals being born from divine intervention instead of her own experiences, seeing the crimes committed against arcanists and realizing that she would like to do something about it.
Another option I'd like to explore about her background - maybe Dikke did have a relatively safe and normal childhood, away from the stigma and persecution. A nice, gentle life that she willingly gave up after she was confronted with the reality of the state of the world, without Jean of Arc's holy realization. To me, there needs to be an emphasis on Dikke's choice and decision to fight corruption. Making this dedication a result of "God told me to do this" would render her a little shallow - not to say religion cannot be part of her character, but in my opinion, Dikke is best when the focus of her moral compass is a genuinely care for the weak and the defenseless.
On the subject of Dikke and the loss of humanity.
Yes, that's THREE characters in a row that I analyze and that have themes of loss of humanity. There's just so many characters who've lost or given up their own humanity for the sake of something greater or something wicked.
Pavia's was a result of how he was mistreated and as a way to reclaim power, Forget Me Not's was a self-imposed torture originating from his inability to take responsibility. Dikke's seems to be self-imposed as well, but unlike the previous two, her loss of humanity is more of a sacrifice she makes for the greater good.
In her voicelines, we see that she leads a very strict schedule - she's straightforward and curt (but never impolite!) with Vertin, alluding to how simple justice is (if one commits a crime or abuses power, they shall be dealt with regardless of their social status) and how her body is "a representation of justice". Dikke has become a symbol for an idea, the concept of a fair system - she is no longer an individual but a savior, an executioner, a violent ghost, a witch, a threat, etc etc.
The loss of humanity is obvious in the way we do not get to know Dikke outside of any themes regarding justice. It's extremely hard to gleam any information about her childhood, her family, her interests and so on because they've all been displaced by this identity as justice itself. To me, this speaks about how power and responsibility on this scale will inevitably separate you from the people, THIS is the Sword of Damocles, now applied to Dikke as much as it applies to those in line for her judgement.
And yet, there are still very small hints of humanity left within her (still related, in a way, to her goals) in her care for the weak. Dikke's quote on her hobbies in a way reminds me of Sonetto.
The idle chatter of the people is entertaining, but 'tis more entertaining that they are always the first to know about the corrupt behavior of nobles.
Sonetto is a character that is similar to Dikke, in the sense that they both became the embodiment of concepts that ultimately stripped them off their individuality. Sonetto by fulfilling her training at the Foundation and becoming the PERFECT example of a military dog, a child martyr who struggles to connect with others because she was only taught how to exist FOR the Foundation. And Dikke, by all the things mentioned before.
But both of them have very endearing hobbies. Sonetto reads newspapers and collects them to find TYPOS IN THEM. Dikke's hobby is to listen to people talk as they go on about their day, not gossiping but to just listen to people exist.
In the main story, Sonetto's upbringing causes her to have a barrier with the people she truly wants to connect to (Vertin, namely) and Dikke's goal causes her life to revolve around a single thing, now only able to engage in mundane things from an outsider's perspective. She listens to people, she doesn't talk to them. She protects people, she doesn't live among them.
I like to think that, even so, this is when Dikke is most at peace. That she enjoys people watching, knowing they're safe and sound - because it validates all her efforts, it means that what she's doing is, in the end, worth it. This might also be why Dikke tells Vertin that they might be on the same path - Vertin, slowly figuring out the truth behind the Foundation and Manus Vindictae and acting as a saviour for those stuck in the middle.
As for headcanons, here's a couple I have!
Dikke has such a dry and deadpan sense of humour that only Vertin can understand it.
Sometimes, very rarely, Dikke will chime in with the most outlandish reply - straight out of the blue, spoken in the most serious and monotone voice. Those who aren't close to her will most likely brush it off as yet another intimidating thing they can't understand about her, but those close to her like Vertin?
It's THE funniest shit in the world and Dikke, who is very aware of the image and respect she commands, knows it.
Dikke and the artifact that follows her are friends.
Quite literally, that thing is the hand of justice. I like to think that Dikke can communicate with it non-verbally, even though it's implied that the artifact is not created by her arcanum.
Part of me likes to think that Dikke insists on said artifact being just her partner in her long journey of bringing justice to the world, but due to all the years spent together and all, the artifact itself (and whatever entity that shows up in her Ultimate) have come to see Dikke as their protégé.
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