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acourtofwhatthefuck · 7 months

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Practice On Me — Part Eight — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Everything is starting to get on top of reader and tensions rise. Azriel takes a trip to Fenlaros and comes away with a headache. Cassian does what Cassian does best. A friendly face swoops in to save the day.

Word count: 8.3k.

Warnings: A little freaky deaky 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

Azriel’s kiss is a burning brand.

It’s fire and ice and earth and rain. It tastes like freshly set snow, and it feels like the refined touch of a steeled warrior.

He kisses you like he aches for you. He pulls his hands away only to remove his gloves and chuck them aside, and then he’s clasping your face once more, skin on skin. He’s always so warm — a part of him you’ve missed.

And a part of him that drives you to kiss him back with barely any hesitation.

This — his mouth on yours — feels like the answer to a riddle you’ve been puzzling out for days, weeks, months, years. You’re gasping for air, and his tongue is sliding between your lips, and his taste overpowers you so thoroughly that you think it could break something inside of you.

There isn’t much furniture left in here. A few scattered tables, a shelf or two hanging off the wall. Not much to work with, and yet it doesn’t matter, because you and Azriel will have each other however you can. You’ve spent a lifetime making do with whatever you’ve got. This is no different.

Azriel’s hands fall down to your hips, and he’s lifting you so abruptly that a yelp leaves you and lands straight on his lips. Your arms loop around his neck, and he’s fastening your legs at his waist and stumbling with you — stumbling towards one of those old tables. A plume of dust erupts around you as he sets you down and slots himself between your legs.

“I fucking miss you.” He groans, grabbing your face. “I miss…us.”

You feel so many things. There’s no chance to sort through them, verbalise them, before his mouth slants over yours again. He’s hungry, needy. Hot and sinful. This Azriel is a far cry from the one who coyly confessed to his inexperience. This Azriel writes poetry onto your lips and paints masterpieces on your tongue. He kisses like eternal happiness depends on it. He kisses as though he’s been an artful lover for centuries.

He’s been practicing, the thought pops into your head.

Not with me, the realisation follows.

And that feels like being thrown stark-naked into the snow. It’s not a nice feeling — to realise that Azriel may be treating you to skill refined elsewhere. Not when you think about kissing him more than you’d like to admit to yourself. Does it make you a gods-damned hypocrite after what you did with Cassian? Perhaps.

But none of this — not one bit of it — is reasonable, or rational, or logical.

All you know is that your stomach lurches suddenly, violently, at the thought of where else Azriel’s lips might have been. And that’s all it takes for you to shove him away.

He stares at you, wide-eyed. Perplexed.

“I needed you.” You pant, the words tumbling from you in a flurry of charged emotion. You’re not sure you planned to say it. “On Solstice — I needed you.”

Azriel’s face changes in the blink of an eye. The hunger is gone, replaced by…something else. “Y/N—”

“I needed you, and you weren’t there. You promised me.”

“I know I did. And I’m sorry—”

“Did you even think of me?” It’s awkward, but you try to scramble back on the table. You just…need that distance right now. “Did you not wonder how I might be doing, how my day might be playing out in that hellish house, before you jumped into bed with Kaeda?”

“We didn’t—”

“Did you think of me?”

“Y/N, of course I thought of you.” He tries to clamp down on your legs, but you’re moving further away, damn near falling off the table in your efforts. “But you — you said you would come and find me. I waited for you—I—”

You’re really not sure if it’s a strangled sob or a choked laugh that fights its way up your throat. Perhaps it’s both. The sound of it is jarring, and it echoes around the armoury and reminds you of where you find yourself right now. The situation you’re in. How different things might be had Kaeda not come onto the scene.

“You waited for me?” You repeat, righting yourself. “And—what? Did you get bored? How do you think it felt, Azriel, when I came to find you — the only person I wanted to fucking be around in that moment — and you were busy with Kaeda on top of you? As if I needed my heart breaking any more that night.”

You hate it — hate it so viscerally that the words won’t stop coming. That you’re bringing your heart into this and allowing it to be stomped on again. Your eyes are watering, and you turn quickly before Az can see.

For a moment, he says and does absolutely nothing. And then he takes a step closer to you.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Believe me, I am.” He says. There’s another step. Another. He’s hovering at your back and you know he’s wondering whether he should reach out and touch you. “But, Y/N…you encouraged me to pursue things with Kaeda. Am I to apologise for that?”

You blink at his words so abruptly that your tears spill down your cheeks.

Now you’re laughing.

It’s a humourless laugh — a hysterical one. It breaks from you in a series of fractured, incredulous noises. At least the emotion boils your blood so thoroughly that it warms you from the inside.

“Apologise?” You round on Azriel, balling your fists at your sides. “No. You don’t need to fucking apologise. But you also don’t need me to practice on anymore, do you?”

He clamps down on his jaw, a telltale muscle moving. “I didn’t kiss you for that—”

“You kissed me because you miss me. Because I am…I’m just a security blanket, aren’t I? I’m what’s familiar, and you’re used to being around me, and having distance between us has fooled you into thinking that you want to kiss me.”

“No—”

“But you’ll kiss me…and make me feel good..and then the novelty will fucking wear off, and you’ll be running straight back to Kaeda because she is who you’ve wanted all along. Not me. Never me.”

“Cauldron, Y/N, will you just let me speak?!”

No.

You will not.

You can’t.

You can’t do this. You can’t break in front of him. You refuse to.

You want to sound strong, and sure, and unbothered, but you open your mouth, and the words are watery and broken. Weak.

“No.” You swallow a lump down. “No, I won’t. Just…just go, Az. I need some time.”

“We’ve spent the last week apart. That’s plenty of fucking time—”

“Go! Go back to Kaeda. Stop…stop pretending like this could play out any other way. It can’t. It won’t.”

“I’m not leaving on an unresolved fight. You and I don’t do that.”

You are far too beaten down to discuss this any longer. You shrug, and the gesture is an effort in itself. “I’m not sure I know what either of us do or don’t do anymore. Things have changed. Go.”

“Y/N—”

“Go!”

Finally, it seems to dawn on him — the realisation that you’re serious. You won’t be discussing this tonight. You’re not strong enough for that yet.

He falters a moment longer, so clearly not wanting to walk away. The two of you have never been like this. You can fight like the best of friends do, but you’ve always made the effort to resolve things, to not part on a bad word.

But things are different, now. You know it. Az knows it.

“…Fine.” He rasps after a long stint of silence. “I’ll go.”

You nod. If he’s expecting you to suddenly change your mind, he’ll be gravely disappointed.

His eyes sweep you once more, and then he’s turning. Dragging his feet to the door like a kicked animal.

“Az?” You call quietly, and he stops.

The hope in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder almost breaks your resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Yes?”

“Send Cassian next time.”

He doesn’t deign to reply.

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Azriel is not well-versed in the world of dinner parties and propriety.

He has a few decent shirts he reserves for special occasions — like when Rhys’s mother cooks a nice meal, and he and the others dress up out of respect.

Y/N would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him right now.

A thought that stings almost as much as the intense, burning gaze of Tathaln Baralas, Lord of Fenlaros.

He’s a mammoth, domineering presence at the head of the dinner table, seeming to command every bite that each person takes of their food, every sip of their wine. It’s silent unless he speaks. It’s tense because he makes it tense.

He watches Azriel as though he’s going to finish his food and then take a bite out of the shadowsinger himself. Az’s shadows are taut around him, not wanting to make a spectacle of their brilliance. The dinner so far has felt like one big, held breath.

But finally, Tathaln clears his throat, and Kaeda and her brothers sit up straight. Az does the same.

“I trust your friends have fared well since your little adventure in my camp.” The Lord addresses Azriel. “I hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. I did many similar things in my youth — though I can’t say I was ever quite so bold as to venture into a rival territory.”

Azriel inclines his head slightly. “I wanted to apologise again — for what happened. Things got out of hand.”

“I’m partly to blame, father, as you know.” Kaeda adds. Azriel damn near jumps out of his seat as her hand lands on his thigh beneath the table. “It was my idea to invite my friends from Windhaven. An oversight, perhaps, on my part. I was eager to show Azriel what Fenlaros has to offer.”

Tathaln seems to think on that as he chews his food. He washes it down with a gulp of wine and reaches for the carafe to refill his glass. The whole thing feels like somewhat of a performance, and nobody speaks a word as it plays out.

This family dynamic is…odd. Not that Azriel has much experience where normal family dynamics are concerned. But there’s a formality with which Kaeda and her brothers — not that the two males have breathed a word this entire meal — address their flesh and blood. Like he is their Lord first, and father second.

And that isn’t unusual for Illyrians — not at all. Offspring are, more often than not, treated like a prospective trophy to be paraded in front of competing families. The fiercer, more ruthless the child is, the prouder the parent will be. It’s a brutal, ugly way of living that never changes, no matter how many generations stack up.

But perhaps Azriel is at fault for having too high an expectation. Perhaps he shouldn’t ever have been fooled by Kaeda’s wings and spirit being left intact, unlike most females around her.

Tathaln is a puppeteer, and Kaeda and her brothers are his dutiful puppets.

“There was no particular harm done.” The Lord eventually says — rather reasonable, for an Illyrian. “I imagine you received a stern talking to. Revoked privileges, perhaps?”

“Lord Devlon saw fit to lecture us, yes.” Azriel concurs with a nod. “But besides that, we weren’t really handed any punishment. It was my friend, Y/N, who bore the brunt of his wrath. She’s been forced into homelessness as a result.”

A sudden, sharp kick lands on Az’s leg from beside him. He glances at Kaeda in his periphery, eyes the fierce expression with which she looks at him. It seems to be communicating, don’t bring this up now.

But Az wants to bring it up. He’s pissed off; more so than he initially thought. At himself, mostly, and at Devlon, at Rhys’s father, maybe even a little at Kaeda — at everyone really.

Tathaln pauses, his fork mid-air. And then he sits back. “Right — the girl that was here. Why has she been made homeless?”

Girl. It’s a sneer of a word in Illyrian mouths. Azriel has to clamp down on his jaw and remind himself that confronting the sexism that runs through their veins is a fruitless task in that moment.

And Kaeda sighs at his side. As if she’d rather be talking in great detail about the roasting of a boar, than about Y/N.

But it answers a question that’s been rattling around in Azriel’s mind all evening — that no, Kaeda had clearly not mentioned Y/N to her father, as she said she would.

“Her father kicked her out on Solstice.” Az explains. “He’s not a good male, to say the least. Y/N was living with myself and my friends, but after the events that unfolded here in Fenlaros, she was sworn off having any contact with us, because Lord Devlon seems to think that she’s the driving force behind any and every bad choice we make. She has nowhere else to go. It’s…worrying.”

“Perhaps she’ll think twice before wandering into rival camps.” Finally, one of Kaeda’s brothers speaks. Arlen, Azriel thinks his name is. Clearly the idiot doesn’t see the irony of his statement.

Or perhaps Kaeda doesn’t have to adhere to the rules that every other female is strictly held under.

“Arlen.” The Lord shoots him a warning glance. He turns back to Azriel. “I would argue that Lord Devlon is full of shit.”

Azriel stops. Blinks. That…that’s not what he was expecting.

“How so, father?” Kaeda’s brow furrows.

“It’s his job to keep the soldiers under his command in line, no?” Tathaln’s dark, feline eyes are assessing Azriel as he speaks — seeming to read his response. “If he finds that a single female is the cause of such disruption, perhaps it is himself he should look at. He can’t be a great leader if he has to resort to such extremes just to keep his soldiers under control, now, can he?”

Az stares back at him. The question is meant for him, but it all seems too…too easy. Reason and logic are simply not a common thing among these people. The words sound almost…false. Forced.

“No.” Azriel agrees. “I suppose not.”

“Do you find him to be an adequate leader?”

“I’ve never known any different.”

Tathaln’s mouth tips up. “That isn’t what I asked.”

No, it isn’t. But this is a fine line Azriel is treading. He positively despises Lord Devlon — thinks him an arrogant brute who uses his title to flout camp laws and customs and turn everything in his favour. Not to mention the fact that he and his cronies are so clearly threatened by Az, Rhys and Cass — an undoubtedly formidable trio. Azriel is sure that if Devlon had his way, the three of them would be slung out by their necks. Or hung by them.

But his personal feelings towards the Lord of Windhaven doesn’t change the fact that openly disrespecting him — and to the lord of another camp — is a huge dishonour. One that could blow up in Azriel’s face if this conversation were to somehow make its way back to Devlon. He has to choose his words carefully.

“He has a method of leadership that I can’t say I’m in agreement with.” Gods, he is the epitome and personification of diplomacy, if he does say so himself. Ten points to the shadowsinger. “I’m not sure that using his power to target vulnerable females was ever part of his job description. I’m sure, as a father to a female of the same age, you can see where I’m coming from.”

Tathaln takes another pensive sip of his wine. He inclines his head. “Indeed, I do. I think it’s terrible leadership. And I think you’re wasted in Windhaven.”

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

“There is no need for modesty, Azriel, the shadowsinger.” As he speaks, the Lord’s eyes inch towards those very shadows. He studies them with a strange expression that looks almost like…hunger. “Do you know why I sent my Kaeda to your camp? I may as well admit, I have an agenda.”

Azriel glances at Kaeda. She’s staring at her plate, shoulders squared. “Oh?”

“I sent her there to scope out the quality of the units that are being trained in the Windhaven Camp. My sons were sent on similar missions to other camps — Camp Theriel, Camp Steelshore, Camp Aruin. The consensus of what was reported back to me regarding each camp was that potential is not being filled. Quite frankly, a mockery is being made of Illyrians by the poor training of these legions. If war was waged tomorrow, half of our race could be wiped out.”

Bold, bold words.

Azriel finds himself stunned silent.

“We are Illyrians, no?” A thick, callused finger traces the rim of Tathaln’s chalice. “We are a warrior race. We have birthed some of the fiercest warriors in Prythian’s history and decimated tens of thousands across battlefields. And yet, it would seem, these days, that our camps are producing fewer warriors, and far more lazy, unambitious brutes who care only about drinking and fighting and fucking. Our reputation could be destroyed yet.”

This is…bizarre, Az thinks.

He also thinks that it’s a little unfair. He’s the last person to ever defend the creatures around him that are supposedly his brethren, but he also thinks that Tathaln’s assessment is wildly exaggerated.

Illyrians drink, yes, and fight, yes, and fuck, yes. But they do so in between harsh, gruelling training. They drink to forget the brutal nature of their life’s work. They fight each other because they’re just as angry as one another, and that needs an outlet. They seek pleasure, because it’s one of the few good things to be found in these parts.

Their training is not for the faint of heart. You train well, or you die. It’s that simple.

And if Tathaln, Lord of Fenlaros, truly has such concerns, Azriel doesn’t understand why the fuck they’re being presented to him, of all people.

“Is this something you’ve raised with the High Lord?” He asks — he isn’t sure he even means to say it.

Kaeda tenses beside him, and Az wonders if, perhaps, he’s overstepped the mark. But Tathaln seems somewhat pleased by the question — seems pleased that Azriel is engaged in the discussion.

“It is.” The male answers. “And I think he finds himself agreeable to what I’ve had to say. However, I haven’t yet presented my solution — what I believe to be the right course of action.”

Az takes the bait. “Which is what?”

“Eventually,” Tathaln says, “I would do away with the individual camps entirely. I would have one, sole camp to train Illyrian warriors, overseen by the most powerful members of our race. Members with rare, unique powers who can draw on the Illyrian potential and make our people what we were always supposed to be. What we once were, before we became too complacent. Better, even.”

And just like that, it makes sense that Tathaln is sharing such things with Az.

Rare, unique powers. Powers like that of a shadowsinger. So incredibly unique that Azriel has never met another of his kind.

Tathaln has ambition — he covets power. He has a vision that needs backing.

It’s like everything suddenly clicks into place in Azriel’s mind.

He finds himself looking at Kaeda, not her father. Finds himself wondering if she ever had genuine interest in him, or if that interest came entirely from Tathaln. Finally, she lifts her gaze to his, and she wears a strange, pleading look.

“Don’t get me wrong, shadowsinger.” Tathaln says. “This is not a goal that could be achieved overnight. Power takes time to build. I couldn’t take this idea to the High Lord without something to back it up — something to get him on side.”

Azriel shrugs. “But what would you have me do? I’m just a soldier in training—”

“You are a shadowsinger. Do you even realise what an asset that makes you? Perhaps your poor start in life, your mistreatment, has caused you to downplay your potential. But I see it. Your power could be a lethal weapon on a battlefield. And off a battlefield. There is so much you could be doing, and yet Lord Devlon has you landing punches on a sparring dummy and calls it training? You are made for better things than that.”

Praise is…it’s a rare thing, in Azriel’s world. And he doesn’t care about that, because the little praise he does get comes from the people who matter, and that’s all he needs.

But hearing somebody other than his close friends — his family — speak so highly of him, is…new. And he’d be lying if he claimed not to like it.

Still, Tathaln is clearly beating around the proverbial. Azriel almost doesn’t want the discussion to go any further, because his head is already full to the brim with swimming thoughts and close to exploding. But they’ve come this far already; he may as well learn what his role in this bigger agenda would be.

“What is it you want from me, my Lord?” He asks.

A small smile plays on Tathaln’s mouth. His eyes, yet again, are on Azriel’s shadows, rather than Az himself. “As I said, change cannot be made overnight. It would take years — generations, perhaps. I would need enough males — strong males — backing my cause, before the High Lord would even hear of it. But I am a patient male. I know what I want, what is right for Illyria, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Starting with strengthening my camp. Being known as the strongest of all camps. And strengthening my influence, too.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Having your power on my side could be a good thing for me. And I could hone you. I believe this mission starts with you. Abandon Windhaven and take up residence in Fenlaros. Train under my command. Come and see exactly how wasted you are in that place. Come and see what we could build together.”

“You want me to be your pet?” Azriel raises an eyebrow. “Your project?”

“I want to hone your potential and show you what an asset you are. I want Illyrians to be a feared people once more. I want to build the strongest, most powerful army in all of Prythian and make Illyria what it was always supposed to be.”

In the wake of the impassioned speech, silence sweeps in. Azriel is staring at his plate, and he thinks he might be feeling cold all over. There’s a strange tingling at the back of his neck — like a warning sign.

He still doesn’t understand why he’d be integral to such an agenda. He’s a shadowsinger, yes, and that is not to be downplayed, but he’s just Azriel. He’s just an Illyrian who trains to fight, and fights to kill, and to one day be killed. That is simply how it is.

And Windhaven — ugly and cold and harrowing as it is — is his home. His family is there. A cottage that is far too small and cramped to house a group of adults but is always a beacon of light and hope and warmth. A place in which he’s made wonderful memories and felt genuine happiness. He’s happy to tolerate the hellish ways of life around him, because he has beautiful things in front of him.

Beautiful things that wouldn’t follow him to Fenlaros. Yes, he may have broken a rule and breached a camp to attend a party — but doing so under casual circumstances is wildly different to doing so under official ones. As a soldier of Fenlaros — as one of Tathaln’s puppets — he would be expected to adhere to the strict rules and standards that he metes out. Fenlaros would be his territory, and there would be no blurring of those lines.

But could Tathaln really be seeing more potential in Azriel than had ever been noticed before? Could it truly be that Fenlaros has more to offer him? More to be done for him?

“I would be turning my back on everything I know.” Az says, the mere words tasting sour in his mouth. “My loved ones. The family I’ve built. They would be left behind. I’m not under any illusion that you’d allow our two camps to interact if I came here.”

Tathaln dips his chin. “I am not going to sugarcoat that. It would be an adjustment, and a painful one at first. But there is far more for you here, shadowsinger. I simply ask that you consider it. Just as I believe your two brothers would consider it, if I were to present the offer to them.”

“And why haven’t you? Presented it to them? Why me?”

Those dark, calculating eyes swallow him up. “I need a shadowsinger. It starts with you.”

Azriel isn’t even sure what that means, and he doesn’t want to think about it any longer. There’s a lump in his throat. His appetite is well and truly gone. He might even be sick.

He couldn’t possibly leave his family. The thought makes him violently ill.

“As I said, all I ask is for your consideration.” Tathaln watches him. And then his eyes slide to his daughter. “As this meal is clearly over, perhaps Kaeda should show you around Fenlaros. Show you what this place might have to offer. Give the shadowsinger a tour, my sweet.”

Kaeda smiles broadly. “Yes, father.”

Az wants to refuse, but he can’t find the words. Too much is going on in his head. He wants to get out of there and go straight back to Windhaven, where it’s familiar and where love waits for him. He doesn’t want to be a component in a greater agenda.

When he met Kaeda, it was simply about…exploring attraction. About experiencing. Not about this.

But he can’t fucking speak. He stands without telling his body to stand.

And for some reason, when Kaeda slides her hand into his, murmurs a soft “come, Azriel”, he doesn’t protest.

Numb and stunned and sick to his stomach he may be. But he follows.

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Azriel isn’t sure if he’s heard a single word that has left Kaeda’s mouth.

She speaks, and yet it’s simply background noise. He can’t hear around the screeching in his head.

He should really just take to the skies and fly home, but perhaps he’s already a puppet — his feet stay on Fenlaros turf. Kaeda guides him around the camp as though the conversation at dinner never happened. She shows him her favourite haunts and introduces him to people whose names he forgets instantly.

It's up on a viewpoint overlooking the camp, just he and Kaeda alone, that he finally releases a slow, weary breath. He folds his arms against the railing and welcomes the cold air biting into his skin. Kaeda stands just a short distance away.

“We call this area the Widow’s Watch.” She says, daring a step closer. “It’s said that centuries ago, at the end of battle, the camp wives would gather up here with firelit torches and await their husbands’ return. If their husband returned, they’d extinguish the torch. Those that were left burning signified who did not return from war.”

Azriel says nothing; isn’t sure he’s capable. He digs his fingers into his arm.

Eventually, Kaeda stops at his side, also bracing her arms on the railing. She looks out over the camp wistfully, as though she can see hordes of wounded soldiers returning home. “I can’t imagine how eerie that sight must have been — the beacons of the dead painting the sky with fire.”

“No,” the agreement leaves the shadowsinger unexpectedly — surprises even him. “Neither can I.”

It’s then that Kaeda angles herself towards him just slightly. He meets her gaze. She’s so very beautiful — the kind of female that artists beg to paint. Her cheekbones are high and defined, her lips full. Her eyes look like shards of glimmering green rock. Never is there a hair out of place. Never a stray lash or smudged rouge. She is, quite simply, a vision.

But Az finds himself wondering if he’s ever known any part of her, or if she’s just following orders.

“I know you must have questions.” She eyes him cautiously.

“So many that my brain can’t keep up.” He takes a small step away. “Have you ever been genuinely interested in me?”

“I have.”

“Your father literally sent you to cozy up to me.”

Her eyes shutter, thick lashes fanning against her skin. “It wasn’t like that, Azriel. I mean — it was, to some degree. You’re right that my father sent me, and that he already had his sights set on you. I work for him. I’m training as his spymaster.” She opens those eyes again — wide. “Yes, he told me to get to know you. But he didn’t say romantically. That was all me. I just…like you.”

Gods, it should feel good, feel like a positive thing, to hear that. To know that the beautiful female he’s been getting to know these past months has genuine interest in him.

But he feels…nothing. No sense of relief. Only the anger that’s still simmering at this entire thing being orchestrated by her father.

“Does it not bother you?” His tone is brusque, sharp, as he stares Kaeda down. “That your father has you do his bidding? You’re a pawn in a game.”

“My father has a vision. It is an honour to serve him, and to be a contributor to that vision eventually coming to fruition. I will not apologise for that.”

“A vision. To create…to create one fucking super camp that he is to oversee? It sounds to me like your father has a hunger for power. Things have worked this way in Illyria for millennia. Why should they be changed now?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Things aren’t working. That’s just the problem.”

“You—”

“Are you proud to be an Illyrian, Azriel?” She steps closer to him; perhaps too close. “I’m not. Not with how things are right now. But I want to be. We are a warrior race. We are supposed to train, and fight, and protect. We’re supposed to be formidable. We’re supposed to be feared. But with the way things are going, fewer and fewer of those things are remaining true. If we don’t change how things are run across these camps and light a fire under our soldiers’ asses, half of our people could be wiped out when the next war comes. The Illyrian race could cease to exist entirely, and our legacy will be left at the mercy of rhyme and tale. We can’t allow that to be the case.”

Azriel studies her.

Her passion is…intense, yes, but also strangely beautiful. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that is so rare among a people who live and breathe misery; whose lot in life is to die.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that he appreciates Tathaln’s scheming, nor Kaeda’s. But they’re not exactly wrong in that ambition is a rare commodity these days. Those who can train for the Illyrian army do so because it’s what is expected of them. Those who aren’t cut out for it make do with everyday jobs around camp. Nobody has pride or passion. Nobody is prepared for war.

So Azriel’s shoulders relax just a little, even though his scepticism remains very much present. “I still don’t understand why I am being scouted for this cause, though. Why not take it to the High Lord? Or why not get Rhysand on side?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “As my father explained, we simply don’t have enough backing to go to the High Lord about this idea — not yet. He knows of my father’s opinion and even agrees that things need to change, but such a complex idea requires careful handling. And conspiring with his son about it would surely not put us in his favour.”

“So…what? I’m the next best thing?”

“After Rhysand, you’re the most powerful, yes. Your influence could aid us greatly. I don’t think you realise how highly coveted you are. Every other camp is aware of the fact that Windhaven has a shadowsinger. And they’re equally aware that your abilities aren’t being put to their full potential under Lord Devlon’s command. Changes will be made whether you accept my father’s offer or not, Azriel. But the changes we’re proposing are the best ones. The right ones.”

“I don’t see what’s right about having to leave my friends — my brothers—”

“Gods, Azriel, just…just take the emotion out of this for five seconds and listen to me.”

Az’s jaw clenches. “I am listening.”

“Then hear me clearly. Change is coming. It’s inevitable. And one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that even if you weren’t to come to Fenlaros, you would still be separated from your friends, or your brothers, or whatever you call them.” She hovers close enough to touch, now, mere inches from him. “One thing I’ve picked up on in Windhaven is that Lord Devlon is very intimidated by the strength of you, Cassian and Rhysand being together. The older you get, the more powerful you’re becoming, and people are growing aware of that. Devlon intends to separate the three of you, and by any means necessary. He can’t risk the threat you pose to him. He’ll tear you apart.”

The information doesn’t surprise Az one bit. He’s sensed a growing panic amongst Devlon and his cronies. They don’t stand a chance against the future High Lord and his two closest friends. And Azriel doesn’t doubt that if physical separation didn’t work, the callous bastards would resort to something far, far worse. Or try, at least.

But still, none of this is making any fucking sense to him. He needs a stiff drink. Or twenty. “How would coming to Fenlaros solve that in any way?”

“Beating Devlon at his own game — separating yourself from your brothers — will lure him into a false sense of security. With you gone, it’ll be one less problem to worry about. He’ll let his guard down. Meanwhile, we’ll be building our influence here and forming a case that can be taken to the High Lord. With his support of our changes, we’ll have the power to do more. And then eventually…eventually, your brothers can join you here. When we have more ground to work on. My father would never begrudge the bond the three of you have. He’d see it as a positive…having three such powerful Illyrians under his command.”

Too much to think about. Way, way too much. Azriel just wants to get out of there. He wants to lie down in a dark room and pretend nothing and no one exists.

But he stares at Kaeda. And he asks, “And what of Y/N? Could she come here, too?”

There’s a very slight hesitance — small, but certainly there. But then she purses her lips, and she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He’s not sure she means it. And that…that’s a whole other rabbit hole he’s not sure he can face going down right now. Another situation entirely.

Before he can say anything else, Kaeda closes the gap between them. She cups his face and leans up, close enough that their mouths are almost touching.

“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” She says. “I really do like you, Azriel. And I really do think we could have something. Think of what we could do here, together. Of what we could be. We could make history. Just…promise me you’ll think about it.”

His lips part with a response he hasn’t even thought of. But there’s no chance to speak it as Kaeda slants her mouth over his and kisses him slowly, softly. Deeply.

Her fingers sink into the strands of his hair, and she breathes a muted hum into his mouth. She tastes like peppermint and sugar, and she kisses as though she hasn’t just laid the weight of the world on Azriel’s shoulders.

And that weight might be why he’s stiff as a board, barely reacting. Or it might be the horrible feeling of dread that this is all wrong. He kissed another female, earlier today — and that kiss had felt like burning, eternal sunshine.

This one feels like…like a ploy.

“Just promise me.” She pulls away just enough to whisper. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

There’s no way he can’t think about it. The seeds have been sown. And perhaps he feels a little slither of guilt for how rigid and cold he currently is, because he doesn’t shoot her plea down like he should.

He sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head.

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll think about it.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The fucking wall is Azriel’s fucking face.

At least, that’s what the fuck you tell yourself as you send a dagger hurtling at it and watch it bury its point into the surface. Another scuff mark to add to the growing smattering, all courtesy of you.

Fuck. Him.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so angry in your life, and Cauldron knows, you’ve had ample reason to. But this anger is…it’s consuming. It’s violent and jagged and nauseating. It’s claws sinking into your heart and your brain and dissecting everything that plagues you in both sleep and consciousness.

And it’s this severe because you care. You care so very much.

You’re sick of caring.

Why would he kiss you, after all that has happened since the last time? To taunt you? To grab your feelings in his fist and twist them? To practice on you?

And to think you almost gave in to that strange, carnal need to have his hands on you again. You cannot — will not — allow yourself to think about which deeper emotion or desire that need is rooted in. Thinking will lead only to realisations that may destroy you yet.

And he’s probably with Kaeda right now, too. Perhaps losing himself in her, forgetting all about you with the aid of her touch—

You scowl and march to the wall, yanking your dagger out. Your anger and your need to just…move, is keeping you warm, at least. Nighttime in the old armoury is about as pitiful as can be imagined, but the relentless cold is actually a strange…relief. It hurts in a satisfying way.

How fucking dare he, your mind chants, not for the first time, as you stalk back to your spot. How dare he treat you as though you’re nothing? You brace yourself and send the dagger hurtling towards the wall once again—

The door is suddenly bursting open, and the weapon only just misses Cassian’s face on its journey as he strides in, arms full of items you don’t care to look at.

He stops abruptly. Blinks. “Did you just throw a dagger at me?”

“No.” You immediately scowl, stalking over to retrieve it yet again. “Fuck you.”

“Ouch. Fuck you right back. I brought blankets and food.”

“Shove them up your ass.”

“I’d really rather not.” He kicks the door shut behind him and strides over to the pile of your scant belongings, dropping his items and freeing his arms. He turns back to you with raised eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a little storm cloud, or is it just a way to pass the time?”

Finally, you sheath your blade — partly because you’re not sure you trust yourself with it right now. You face your friend, fully aware that you’re out of line and fully resentful of the fact.

“I had an argument with Az.” You admit, not even certain you mean to.

Cassian’s eyebrows raise. “Well, that explains why he nearly bit my head off earlier, too. What did you fight about?”

Do you tell him? Do you confess all your complicated, messed up feelings — the bizarre circumstances that brought them about — when you haven’t even sorted through them yourself? No. You can’t. It’s a bit too soon for that.

“It was…nothing.” You stalk over to your things. “Just nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing—”

“Thank you for bringing me these.” You toe a thick blanket with your boot.

Yet again, Cassian’s eyebrows go up. “Are you hinting at me to leave?”

“Just because I have to face the night in this hovel, doesn’t mean you should be subjected to the same fate. I wouldn’t expect that of you.”

“Well, fucking expect it, because I’m staying—”

“Cass—”

“Come here.” He opens his arms. “Right now.”

You stare at him. And in that instant, with him seeing you — seeing everything you are, everything you’re feeling, what you need — your anger simmers, and it threatens to turn into tears.

“You clearly need a hug.” He points out softly. “And I’ve missed you this past week. So come here.”

In an instant, you crumble. You’re stepping forward and damn near falling into Cassian’s arms. He catches you, just like he always catches you.

His arms band around you, warmer and more secure than any blanket. He pulls you tightly against him, and you allow your arms to snake around his waist. It’s only then that you realise how much you need the firmness of his body to hold you up. He’s like a huge, supporting wall that stops you sinking to your knees.

“I’m so sad.” You whisper, nestling your face into his chest. His scent and his warmth permeate his clothes, and they combine and wash over you in a soothing combination.

“I know.” His broad hand cups the back of your head. “Everything is a huge mess right now. But we’re going to get through it — together.”

You hate that you can’t believe him; not right now. Everything is too up in the air, too uncertain. A dark mass has followed you around this camp for the entirety of your life, and it’s closer than ever to closing in and snuffing out who you are.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask. “I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore, Cass.”

He pulls back to study you. To cup your face and look into your eyes. “Yes.” He says firmly. “You do. You always have and you always will. There is nothing — nothing — you can’t face. I truly believe that, Y/N.”

Staring back at him feels just like…like the night in the cottage, when you lost yourself in him. Him being there for you, speaking the words that are so hard to believe and yet so what you need to hear. The same urge arises in you to give over to those feelings. Do something for yourself for once.

You think Cassian might read that thought on your face. Perhaps you wear it shamelessly.

He studies you closely — studies you hard. And his throat bobs as his eyes flit down to your lips.

“Y/N.” He says. “Let me make you feel good.”

You swallow, also. And you don’t need to think about it. “Yes.” You nod. “Yes.”

In a flash, he’s closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours. The hot and heavy weight of his lips is a relief. One that makes you release a soft sigh.

You don’t let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing Azriel in this very building only earlier. Nor about the fact that it could have gone much further than that. Cassian gives you himself, and you take, your hands bunching in his jacket as you haul him against you.

His hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to him. And as his mouth stains yours with his urgent need, he’s backing you up, walking you back and back until you collide with that very table that Az kissed you on earlier. Cassian picks you up in an easy sweep and places you on the tabletop. He parts your legs and slots himself in between, his mouth never once leaving yours, never once faltering.

Until he parts from you and says, “Lie back.”

With his hand guiding you down, you do just that. You sprawl out on that table, anticipation coiling in your stomach. It warms you from the inside, makes your skin too hot and your clothes too heavy.

Cassian doesn’t mess around with teasing or taunting. He drags his hands over your breasts, your stomach, and down to the laces at your breeches. You don’t care about the cold air. You lift your hips and wish only for him to undo those laces faster. You want your skin bare, and his touch marking it.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time.” Your friend pants, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Will you let me now?”

Goosebumps erupt over you skin. You grip onto the edges of the table and breathe, desperately. “Yes. Please.”

So boldly, he yanks your breeches and undergarments down in one go. His fingers find the very centre of you, already soaked, already ready for him. What he finds there makes him groan.

“Here? You’ll let me taste you here?”

“Please.” You pant again. “Just…please, Cass. I need this.”

“I know.” A kiss lands on your skin. “I know.”

His hands drag down your legs at the same time he sinks to his knees. You bow your head forward — just to watch the predatory grace with which he aligns his face with your sex. He licks his lips like you’ve presented him with his most carnal desire.

He inhales slowly — breathes in your scent. A growl rips from his throat.

And then he dives right in.

His tongue licks a stripe up your centre, from your entrance, up to your clit. Your hips buck at the contact, one hand moving to bunch within his hair. As his tongue swirls over your clit, pleasure barrels through you that ends in a cry.

“Your taste is fucking divine.” Cass groans, and his hands pry your legs further apart. He wastes no time in lapping at your juices, damn near fucking drinking you down. He drinks and drinks like a male parched. “Gods, Y/N.”

“More.” You gasp, thrusting your hips towards him. You grind your cunt against his face, and you can’t stop your body jerking, your head lolling back. “Gods, Cass, more.”

“More?” His teeth graze against the sensitive nub. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your mouth. Fingers. You.”

A delicious, sinful chuckle, so incredibly deep and lilting, breaks from Cass and vibrates against you. He lands a harsh suck on your clit. “I love how filthy you are.”

And he shows you how much he loves it, as one finger suddenly gathers up your wetness and teases your entrance. You moan, plead, beg him to slip it into you. He does so at the same time that he fastens his lips to your clit and strokes at it with his tongue.

You feel him smile against you. Your responses seem to provide him with almost as much pleasure as your touch would.

“Just like that.” He growls the words onto you, sliding his finger out and back in — adds a second one. “Take what you need. Fuck my fingers.”

You need this pleasure. This release. He has no idea how much you need it. Nobody does. You need to feel like somebody else, feel like you’re somewhere else. You need to feel something other than…blinding pain.

And so you take what you fucking need, undulating your hips and moving yourself on his fingers, against his tongue. Cassian follows your lead, keeps up with your pace. As your moans pick up, so do the thrusts of his hand.

“Going to come for me?” His hand moves faster. “Come around my fingers?”

“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Fuck—Cass.”

“Come.” He growls. “Want to feel you.”

It’s as if your body is fully under his command, because the words have your climax bursting through your body and chasing you from every negative feeling that’s been plaguing you. It feels beautifully catastrophic, fucking mind-altering. It feels like an out of body experience.

You know, somewhere in your mind, that you’re being loud, but you don’t give a single damn. You welcome your orgasm and allow it to consume you. You allow your loud, gasping noises to echo around the building.

But perhaps it’s the loud volume of those noises that prevents both you and Cass from hearing the door open behind you. Perhaps it’s the heat of your passion that makes you immune to the sudden gust of cold air.

Whatever it is, neither of you notice a third presence until a voice bellows behind you.

“Cauldron fucking boil me, my eyes!”

Both you and Cass rise with a start, you scrambling to cover yourself. A horrified expression stares back at you both.

“Roza.” You both say at the same time. Both blink in shock, too.

Rhysand’s mother covers her eyes with her hand and turns her back to you.

“Please correct yourselves before you traumatise me any more.” She says. “Can’t turn my back on you idiots for five gods-damn minutes.”

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

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nunalastor · 3 months

Note

I have a lot of ideas, mainly duckiedeer tho, so this might be long, feel free to ignore it if you don't want to read it, lmao.

One where Alastor is greyromantic, so he has never felt romantically towards anybody.

Lucifer moves in and their bickering just increases, and he does what he has always used to do with his rivals and he starts flirting with Alastor in whatever way will piss the radio demon off the most. With the time Alastor catches feelings and at first he doesn't get what they are, but after seeing the way Husk and Angel act he gets it, and he hates it. The solution? Make their bickering everyone's problem by being as loud as he can, to convince himself he still hates him and he's just confused.

Lucifer catches feelings as well a while after, he realizes after noticing the sarcastic flirting is losing the sarcasm, he tries and fails to ignore the feeling, and just increases when he goes to bed and can't help but think about Alastor's seemingly redder face, from a fairly adorable pick up line he tried earlier.

Now you have two idiots aggressively pinning like highschool girls and both very angry with themselves about it, both try to get rid of the feelings just to end up falling deeper.

This is just Alastor, you know, since he was alive during WWI, I thought maybe he fought on it. Before WWI he didn't have any immoral tendencies, he was just weird, then he fought on WWI, and the feeling of killing someone sunk on him. By the end of the war is when he actually became a serial killer.

Back to radioapple.

Charlie gave Lucifer a 50,000 piece puzzle once they finished the hotel, the picture was a mountain of rubber ducks, so you could tell it took him a lot to get any of it done since the pieces where all really similar with mainly yellow. They placed it on a big table near the bar where everyone usually hung out, so if anyone wanted to help the were welcomed to, he sat there for hours everyday for a few months trying to advance with it.

One day Alastor, pretty annoyed that the puzzle was taking all of his pathetic love interest arch nemesis’ attention, he did the only logical solution which was helping him out with the thing. This helped to:

1. Understand what was so appealing about the thing that Lucifer wasn't interested on hating him as much anymore.

2. Bicker with him as they assembled the thing.

The plan backfired, Alastor ended up loving the puzzle just as much as Lucifer, and now they have something to bond over. Neither knows how to feel about it.

Lucifer gets really depressed from time to time, and he gets nightmares.

He used to cuddle Charlie and Lilith before when this happened, but Lilith wasn't here anymore and Charlie slept with Vaggie, so he couldn't just ask to sleep with them like he was their child. So somehow he ended up on Alastor's room and cuddled up to him, and now it was just something they did every time Lucifer had nightmares, if somebody knew this happened they didn't dare to bring it up.

Subsequently, one day Alastor just came up to Lucifer and gifted him a giant Duck plushie to cuddle up to the nights he wasn't at the hotel, the duck had a duck-adapted version of Alastor's outfit and it smelled like the raio demon.

Lucifer keeps a radio hidden on his room, he listens to Alastor's broadcast when he feels low, nobody knows about this.

Alastor keeps an apple shaped ornament on his radio station where he can see it while broadcasting, Lucifer keeps an Alastor duckie on his workshop.

Giving the “Alastor gets a celestial wound after Adam's fight that can only be cured by Lucifer” trend a twist for my slowburn fan ass, Lucifer takes several days to heal Alastor's wound, at first, he doesn't let Lucifer come near his body, which only slows the process, but then theystart bonding and he slowly starts to let Lucifer make physical contact with him, first they are quick touches through his clothes, then he let's Lucifer linger his hand directly over his wound.

Alastor drags Lucifer to overlord meetings, Rosie is delighted to meet him the first time he goes to one, then the three of them just have their own private conversation while ignoring wherever topic is being discussed that day.

Husk asks Angel out solely because he sees how pathetic Alastor and Lucifer look pinning on eachother like that, and refuses to look life that himself.

10.

Lucifer and Alastor leave gifts in eachother's rooms on increasingly unhinged places (e.g: inside the pillows, taped to the ceiling) Alastor makes a point to leave them on tall places as well, with petty notes attached on them (e.g: Bambi looking ass). They deny the gifts being actually meaningful, despite the presents being sweet (e.g: chocolates, books, scented candles with eachother's favorite smells).

11.

Lucifer loves sweet and sour flavors (chocolate milk, apple juice, sour candy), while Alastor prefers salty and bitter (black coffee, unsweetened tea, chips). They hate on each other's tastes, but secretly try some of the other's favorite foods out of curiosity.

I'm going to stop there because otherwise this thing will go on forever :3.

🔥 so many!!

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #appleradio #radio apple #apple radio #lucifer #alastor #headcanon

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merakiui · 7 months

Text

long-distance love.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, phone sex, obsession, power imbalance, kidnapping, implied (cyber)stalking, non-con touching, characters written as 18+ note - sea witch, the magicord mod you've had intimate online relations with, is closer than you thought.

Sea Witch is a busy man.

His weekly schedules are almost always packed to bursting, each event meticulously arranged into open slots as if aiming to form a perfect puzzle. Times never conflict; he’s particular about how he spends his hours, and very rarely does he allow himself a break. It has always been work, work, work. He’s one of the city’s most affluent, eligible bachelors and yet he’s married to his business. Those who lust after him think it’s a wasteful shame. Azul finds it to be a relief far greater than any he’s ever known. He will never compromise the enterprise he’s built from the ground up just because of some flimsy, fickle feelings.

Originally, he had no interest in Magicord, a messaging platform that grants people from all over the world the chance to congregate on specific servers for mutual interests like anime and gaming. He only downloaded it because Idia Shroud, a fellow friend and business partner, lived and breathed the app, his online presence so profound it was almost like a second home. He’d swipe away notifications from his actual messaging app, too busy in a voice call with his group of dungeon raiders to bother answering important calls.

So he resolved to get on Idia’s level in hopes of improving communication. Although Idia’s level, as Azul often noted, was not exactly a place he wanted to be. While Magicord could be used for business purposes, that wasn’t what drew people in. Azul of all people knew very well which target audiences were being reached with apps like Magicord, and he was not one of them.

“To think I’d stoop as low as this,” Azul had once groused over a phone call with Idia, who was giving him quite a lengthy, not-very-needed-but-also-very-much-needed rundown on Magicord’s inner workings. “I hardly have time to play games, let alone socialize on this…app.”

“Aren’t you always going on about how adaptable you are?” Idia sniped back, not in the mood for normie criticism. The sound of clacking keys could be heard on his end. “And you’re the one who asked. Kinda defeats the purpose of learning if you’re just gonna complain.”

Azul rolled his eyes. “I fail to see the logic in downloading another app just to ensure my messages reach you. Honestly, you ought to start checking your email. Or, at the very least, go through your missed call and text logs.”

Alas, Idia had been stubbornly adamant about his preferences and so, much to his displeasure, Azul was forced to undergo something of a Magicord Training Camp until he emerged a pro. And being a pro meant knowing how to navigate his own profile and toggle between that and Idia’s, which was really the only tip he needed because that was all he’d use the app for.

But Azul has always had an innate itch for wanting to know something from top to bottom, inside-out, and the idea of not knowing every little detail about Magicord drove him insane. If there was an opportunity he could capitalize on, why should he risk squandering it with his elementary-level knowledge? So he spent his rare slivers of free time playing around in there, creating a server and wondering who could ever become so attached to an app when the world beyond the screen was filled with just as many, if not more, social encounters.

His introverted side understood the appeal. In fact, he loved the idea of hiding behind a manufactured persona online. He didn’t have to be Azul Ashengrotto on Magicord. Rather, he could rid himself of his dislikable traits and become an entity—an idea or a concept—rather than a flawed man who others might scrutinize ruthlessly.

So he became Sea Witch, and within just a week he’d constructed quite the comfortable server. The invite link was spread throughout the various branches of Mostro. It would provide employees with an online sanctuary, where they could easily connect should doing so in person prove complicated (as had been the case regarding Idia, which was the sole reason he’d even poured so much time into this effort). Most of all, it gave Azul the chance to keep watch from afar, silently sitting in wait and curating a collection of mostly unimportant intel. Mere gossip, if anything.

But gossip is just as good as the next scandal. He likes to be prepared, a razored edge on all sides.

As far as the company was concerned, no one knew who this Sea Witch character was and no one knew who spread the link. And as far as individual employees knew, this was likely just some overworked intern’s labor of love—a well-crafted server intended to function as a digital gathering place for those exhausted after a long day. And that was mostly true, but all of the potential blackmail he could gather, the information he could glean, and even the people he could keep a closer eye on in an online setting—all of that paled in comparison to the real prize he’d attained. This was of great importance. It was something that altered the course of his life, opened his eyes to the brilliant beauty of a first love.

It was there in that undersea-themed haven where he met you, the one who would add flavorful spice to the once bland, boring meal that was his life. And just after a few weeks of simple, cordial conversation, he realized a single taste of your kind companionship wouldn’t be enough to sate him.

Greedy to a fault, Azul wanted you in your entirety.

Which brings him to the present, where he’s currently leaning back into the expensive leather of his driver’s seat. He’s parked on a silent strip of road, in a more residential part of the city. It’s not very busy here, and his windows are tinted to avoid immediate recognition. Rush hour won’t hit until later, and he’s not due for any conferences. He has time. Plenty of it to spare on this little excursion.

“I wanna meet you, Sea Witch,” you admit, nearly whining through the phone. “Where’re you from? Maybe we’re in the same area.”

Azul smiles at your impatience. You just can’t get enough of him, can you?

Every weekend, you hop into a VC with him and chat for hours on end. At first he simply provided a listening ear when you wished to rant through text or call. You’d voice all sorts of complaints. Azul filed them away in the event that they might be useful in the future, initially intending to use such information to ruin you should you prove to be someone worth ruining. But the more he spent listening and scrawling notes on blank paper, the more he realized you were just overworked and struggling financially.

Upon making these connections and learning all sorts of facts from you regarding your life beyond Magicord, he felt compelled to help. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course, ever the benevolent saint. And you weren’t complaining when he offered to pay you for your time. In exchange for two hours of conversation, he’d provide you with the funds you needed to afford your necessities.

Somehow, throughout many months of give and take—with his giving being on the jaw-droppingly exorbitant side, always one to top his own ludicrous generosity—your hours-long conversations would sink beneath the surface of mere companionship. It was one-sided intimacy. Azul was careful with what he shared, building a mostly secretive profile for himself. He didn’t want to risk tarnishing your fondness for Sea Witch by sharing details that felt more like Azul and less like the effortlessly funny, charming, and eloquent Magicord mod you’d originally made contact with.

You didn’t seem to worry about compromising your own privacy, easily divulging a variety of fun tidbits about your life. You’d share the tiniest of details and he’d eat it up every time, hungering for more than just crumbs. That time you sent him a photo of the octopus macarons you’d bought from a local bakery because you were thinking of him? He remembers it well, and he’s constantly reminded of it when you text him about things you did over the weekend or hobbies you basked in. Sending photos of your houseplants, asking him for his opinion on clothes you were hoping to buy (which he was always more than willing to sponsor; all you needed to do was send the link and he’d purchase it), and even trusting him enough to fall asleep in the VC with him (arguably one of his favorite things about your unique relationship).

And he called it unique not because it was a bad sort of strange. Rather, it was unique in the refreshing sense. He’d never had an online friend before, let alone someone who would so willingly and readily indulge him. Granted, this willingness stemmed from the deal he’d cut with you and so you were really only doing these things for your own gain. But then so was he. It was a relationship built upon necessity. You needed money to survive, and he needed you.

So it was okay to fall into sleazy fantasies. It was all an act anyway, and it wasn’t like you judged him or his preferences. At least, not outright. If you did, it was silent. You were considerate and sweet; and you really did consider him a friend. Or so he hoped. If your casual conversations were any proof, it was obvious there was some sort of enjoyment and trust there.

Friendship or something more, he would have you. Whether that meant in the safety of his pocket, enclosed within his mobile phone forever, or in his penthouse, tucked away in his bedroom—he’d have you.

“I’m from a city, yes,” he answers, purposely cryptic.

“Obviously. Come onnn, Witchy. Don’t you wanna meet me, too?”

“I do, and one day we’ll meet. I promise.”

He listens to your irritated groan and his cock twitches in his slacks. Good god, your voice is a blessing—more heavenly than a cherubic choir.

“One day isn’t today, though.”

“Perhaps not.” He speaks to distract you from the rustling fabric of his pressed suit as his hand strays further. He spies his reflection in the rearview mirror, notes the flash in his irises. If only you were here, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. If only he could slide his own seat as far back as it would go, lie still and serene, and let you climb into his lap to spear yourself on his erection. Genuine leather be damned. He wanted your scent, your essence, your everything engraved into the very interior. “Humor me—if we were to meet right now, what would you like to do?”

“Mm, I’d want to get a good look at the man I’ve been talking to for nine months now.”

“Oh, you’ve kept track?”

“You haven’t?” Your laughter is fluffy and light—authentic amusement. “And I’d want to memorize your face so that I’ll never forget it.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m so curious! You know what I look like—”

“Not entirely,” he interjects, sly and silver-tongued. “You’re a portrait half-finished in my mind. Not yet sketched to completion.”

And it’s true. From your shoulders down, you are a faceless beauty. He’s seen you nearly naked and fully clothed, in frills and lace, in latex and ribbons, in satin and chiffon. And yet, for all of the skin you’ve shown, he can’t place a face (or a real name, for that matter) to your body.

“Okay, poet,” you tease, and he’s already palming himself through the fine fabric of his trousers. “But I’ve still never seen an inch of you. You’ve never even sent a dick pic.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Can I have one now?”

“Nice try.”

“Asshole!” you gripe, clicking your tongue in disappointment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he hums, squeezing himself, his breath coming out faint and haggard.

Yeah, he’s the worst. But then you’re the best at eliciting these sorts of reactions from him. The effect you have on him is utterly enthralling. Your ability to reduce him to a pliable puddle in just a few words—a mere few lighthearted, hollow insults—is truly impressive. He’d feel ashamed of himself if it wasn’t so good.

“You’re probably not even that big.”

“Would you like an exact measurement?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to measure it in person? See how many inches I could fit inside. I’ve been practicing with that dildo you sent me—the one shaped like a tentacle,” you purr, frustratingly coy. He wants your sinful lips wrapped around his dick right now—wants to fuck your throat sore and raw. Wants nothing more than to spill heavy and hot on your tongue so you’ll taste him for days. “If we met up, we could make that happen. Sooo, where’s my Sea Witch from? What part of the world?”

“Patience, angelfish.”

Even though he says so, he’s practically vibrating with excitement as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon. So soon. Very, very soon.

And then…

He imagines you rolling your eyes with your next words. “Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. But that’s not gonna stop me from fantasizing.”

“Well, what do you think I look like?”

“Now isn’t that a fun question?” You mull it over. He can tell because you mutter a variety of ums and hmms in that soft, sweet voice of yours. “I think you’re tall and you have a handsome face that matches your equally handsome voice.”

“Yeah?” he encourages, undoing the belt, button, and zip on his pants one-handed. “What else?”

Your giggles filter into his ears, seeming closer than they actually are due to the wireless earbuds he’s wearing. “From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have expensive tastes.”

Sitting in his lavish, one-of-a-kind, custom-made sports car, Azul thinks you would be correct.

“I wonder what gave it away…” he drawls, his voice creeping an octave lower.

He places his phone in the cup holder, reaching to open the glove compartment and retrieving a tiny bottle of lube. Squirting a scant amount on his palm, he fishes himself, throbbing and pathetically hard, out of his boxers. His slick hand is a warm, welcome embrace around his silky-smooth shaft. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, I wonder. It’s not the fact that you told me I should just buy a designer bag for work when I asked for recommendations. And it’s certainly not your ability to get me lots of nice gifts as if it’s nothing. So maybe it’s just your excessive generosity that makes you seem so rich?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Speaking of that, what do you do for a living?”

“Guess.”

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious… Um… Hm. I think you’re a pilot.”

The whiplash that assumption brings is so seismically jarring he thinks he might go flaccid. Gripping himself with renewed vigor, he slides his fist along his length, slow and perfunctory, picturing you under his desk, your mouth open wide to receive him…

“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”

“Aw. My second guess was gonna be a contract killer. They make lots of money.”

“You have quite the wild imagination, angelfish. Even if I was one, do you think I’d admit that to you?”

“Maybe,” you tease. He pictures your smirk as it twists your perfect, pretty lips into something wicked. “For the right price, yeah?”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Please. Please keep going. Don’t stop talking. I need to hear you, closer, louder, clearer… More.

“What sort of price would I have to pay to get Sea Witch to spill his secrets?” you muse, your voice a tantalizing curl of syllables, but he suspects you already know the answer to your hypothetical. “I can’t offer you money, so you’d have to settle for something a little more…physical.”

He shivers, nodding his agreement even though you can’t see it. “Physical’s good,” he mumbles, foregoing eloquence in favor of filth. “Much better than—mm—than money…”

“Yeah? All right. Let’s see… You’re well-off and you might or might not be a contract killer. Do you wear suits?”

“I do.”

“Ooh, so you’re one of those contract killers.”

Azul can’t help it; he laughs, the sound tumbling out in a breathy gasp. “I prefer looking nice at all times.”

Languidly, his hand continues its idle pumping. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Even if you’re just going to get messy?”

“Explicate the situation that’s leading me to soil my clothes. Details, angelfish.”

“Well, if you’re a killer who wears suits, you wouldn’t like even the smallest stain. It ruins your image, but if it was me…” You pause, probably for effect, and it works. His back arches with anticipation, fingers closing tighter. “You’d make an exception.”

“I would,” he admits far too quickly. “Always.”

“So you really would out yourself as a killer if I spread my legs for you?”

“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”

“Good. They’ll look better on the floor anyway.”

His breath hitches. Fuck, your every word is a siren’s song, leading him deeper into mist-clouded waters. He’d keep you pinned on his cock all day if he could. Why should you continue to work your mundane job when you could spend your precious hours with him instead? He’ll be your job. Seven days a week, during each of the breaks he’ll pencil into his schedules, you can visit him and he can empty all of his stress into you. And you’ll take it because you’re such an obedient sweetheart for him, always so ready to please your master.

He prays you can’t hear the salacious squelch of skin on skin as he works himself towards the edge, but a nastier part of him wants you to listen in so you’ll be reminded that this is your fault. No one else can possibly make him this messy. No one else is capable of rendering him a clumsy, lovestruck fool. You’re probably well aware of these facts, having brought him to this same edge numerous times in the past. Sometimes you would reach that tipping point alongside him, your gasps and groans joining his in an obscene duet.

Neither of you decided upon today’s development, but he thinks—knows—you’re intentionally stringing him along. You want this as much as he does.

“So was I right? You’re totally a contract killer?”

“I’m a businessman, angelfish,” he corrects, a silly, drunken smile softening his jaw. You make him feel so stupid, so warm and fond.

“So basically the same thing. Just as ruthless, no?”

“Please, you wound me. I’m always kind.”

“Ah, so there are others who get this treatment? And I thought I was the only one…”

“You are. No one could ever compare to you.”

He intends to tack my love onto the sentence’s end, but he stops himself. You’re not his love. Not really. You’re his angelfish, sure, but that’s different. That’s just a pet name befitting the aquatic theme he masquerades behind. And you’re not really Azul’s. You’re Sea Witch’s.

It’s Sea Witch you know and love. Beyond that, Azul is just Azul. And he’s nothing like the ideal he’s cultivated on Magicord.

He sighs and forces himself out of the turbulent trenches of his withering self-esteem. Now is not the time to contemplate which version of himself you’d be more preferential to.

You’ll have no choice but to love the real him. Soon.

“Really? I feel so special.” Impressed, you whistle and add, “I’ve gotta make you feel special, too.”

“You already have—”

“Not inside the VC. Come on, Sea Witch, don’t you wanna meet me?”

“I do. I really do,” he babbles dumbly, grinding his thumb into his slit and smearing pre-cum. He grits his teeth and tamps down a colorful word. How he yearns for this to be your hand wrapped around his length, tugging him to that far-off finish line. “I want nothing more than to—t-than to see you, all of you, in person…”

“So what’s stopping you? I could do a lot more in person than I can over the phone.” He has a smart reply for that, but it sticks in his throat. Pitifully, like the rightful debauched mess he is, he groans, low and guttural. “Let me turn the question on you, Sea Witch. If we were to meet today, what would you like to do to me?”

So many things, he thinks, a litany of smutty imagery flickering through his head.

But Sea Witch is classy (most days) and today is one of those instances. Or at least he’s going to make an attempt, however weak it may be.

“Take you to dinner,” he mumbles, executing jerky, quick motions in a daze, his cock weeping for release. He throws his head back, peers up at the interior roof of his car, and inhales sharply. “Take you all over the city if it pleases… I’d spoil you with so much finery—dress you up and then tear every article off…”

“And then?”

“And—god, fuck—wanna be inside you, angelfish… So badly—need you so badly. I wanna feel you and kiss you and hold you.”

He’s unraveling, strings pulled taut and fraying to extremity. Azul bucks into his hand and imagines it’s you, tight and warm, a sweet, snug embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, intending to beg you for more, but all that slips out are the tiniest huffs and grunts. He’s so wrapped up in his own ardor that he almost misses your quiet pants, every breath squeezed out of you as if you’re struggling to withhold your gratuitous moans. And it’s deplorable, really, the way his ears prick at these muffled sounds, the way his cock stands rigidly at attention, the way he’s falling through fragments of filthy fantasies, each one so close and yet impossibly far.

“I want you, too,” you mewl, tone wavering between shameless thrill and some sort of seventh heaven.

He wonders what you’re using to pleasure yourself. Are your fingers, slick and curled, rubbing up against those perfect, pretty spots that have you seeing stars? Or are you using the toys he purchased for your enjoyment? Maybe you’re lowering yourself onto the dildo right now, gummy walls clenching around girthy silicone. And maybe you’re tugging at your nipples, massaging them between the pads of your fingers, or maybe you’ve swapped skin-to-skin for a bullet vibrator instead.

Maybe—just maybe—it’s the mere thought of him that sets your flesh aflame with an intoxicating desire.

“And I want you—” you gasp, and his mind travels to all of the risqué photos you’ve sent, each one saved in a password-protected album on his phone— “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I want you to show me that no one else can compare to you. I want you to—mmh, hah—to hold me down in bed and fuck me until my legs are sore and I can’t walk.”

I will, he thinks, lashes fluttering on his cheekbones. He strokes himself quickly, chest heaving, tongue near-lolling out of his mouth as he pants like a hound in heat. I’ll do all of that and so much more. I’ll fuck every coherent thought out of your pretty head, keep you just smart enough to rely on me, turn you into the prettiest sea flower who’ll only blossom for me.

“I promise, angelfish. I promise I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he vows, his nerves alight with lustful delight, “and you’ll never know misfortune again.”

“I—oh! I’m close, so close! Please, Sea Witch! Please don’t stop. Please fill me up and make me yours!”

The sheer vulgarity twined through amatory vehemence, coupled with his own hurried pace, has him tumbling down the slope, arousal peaking and spilling over in thick, creamy spurts. He has half a mind to catch his spend before it can ruin the pristine interior of his car, and he blinks down at the semen sullying his palm. Idly, he rubs his fingers together to test the viscosity, wondering how his fluids would look on your face, your stomach, your ass—or even pooling out of your hole in plentiful amounts.

That fantasy is enough to send blood rushing right back to his softening cock, and he wills those thoughts away with logic—complex calculations and the financial forecast for Mostro. There will be plenty of time to indulge in sexual cravings later. He reminds himself of this while he tamps down his zeal, his heart relaxing in his ribs as he sits with the slowly ebbing aftershocks of orgasm.

You seem to be doing much the same, for you’ve gone perfectly quiet.

“Everything all right, angelfish?” he whispers after a few minutes, his breath now evened out.

“Mm, yeah. All good over here. Messy, but good.”

“I’m comforted knowing we’re in the same boat.” He chuckles while fumbling to dig a cotton handkerchief from the depths of his suit jacket. He cleans the cum and residual lube from off his hands and dick before neatly tucking himself away. Soon, there will be no need for this charade. Soon, he can adore all of you from beyond the screen. “Angelfish, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What’s up?” you murmur, your own voice settling into its usual cheery cadence. He suspects you’re just putting on an act to sound happier. That will change when you’re reunited in person because it will be real. Because there will be no point in pretending through the phone.

“Well…” Azul smiles, folds and unfolds the sodden handkerchief, and then straightens his posture. He should be on his way now. “Ah, it’s nothing. Never mind it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Whaaat? But you’ve made me so curious now. Don’t just leave me in suspense!”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in that suspense indefinitely.”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”

He knows you don’t mean that.

“I’ll tell you soon, angelfish. Exercise a little patience. There’s no rush.”

“Easy for you to say. You know what it is.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, considering his next words. “Would it help if I left you with a word of advice?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

“Um. Okay, sure. Hit me. What’s your advice?”

Azul buckles himself in, starting his car via push button. It rumbles to life, smooth and steady. “Don’t fight so much, my dear.”

“Don’t what? Sea Witch, what are you talking—”

Your words are interrupted with a startled yelp. Azul listens to the struggle as if it’s a podcast enjoyed at sunrise. Things are toppled in the chaos; something shatters. He catches the beginnings of a blood-curdling shriek before it’s swiftly silenced. There’s more muffled scuffling before, eventually, absolute peace.

It’s broken by Floyd’s petulant whine. “Maaan, Shrimpy was so difficult. Thought you said they were easy, Azul.”

“Understandably so,” comes Jade’s astute reply. “We did catch them when they were most vulnerable.”

Floyd hums his agreement. “Y’know, Jade, Shrimpy’s kinda cute…”

“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, perish it right now,” Azul hisses, features twisting into something dark. “Keep your slimy mitts off of my angelfish.”

There’s an unsettling silence. Azul rolls his eyes. They’re fishing for a reaction he refuses to give.

“Clean up whatever mess you’ve made.” He takes his car out of park and eases into drive. “And don’t let anyone see you. It’ll be a hell of a pain if neighbors make unnecessary reports.”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard ya loud and clear.”

“Very well. Farewell for now.”

The call is cut. Azul grips the steering wheel, smug.

Soon waits for him on the horizon. He will not be a minute late.

You wake on a bed, in a spacious bedroom with exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows, many stories up in the clouds. A brightly lit cityscape sprawls beyond the confines of this room, illuminated with the deceptive shine of promise and success. At first it looks foreign. But then you recognize notable buildings, each standing tall and proud amidst the rest, and it occurs to you that you’re in a stranger’s home, in the heart of the big city.

The room itself is plainly colored; it reminds you of a hotel or a room you might find in a real estate catalogue. Perplexed, you sit up and take pause as your unfamiliar surroundings prove to be more frightful than your own confusion.

Pasted to the walls are various printed screenshots from Magicord, each one detailing a conversation of sorts. You stare at the wall behind you, the one in which the bed is currently pushed against, and peer closer at the contents of these messages.

They’re all from you.

Endearing terms you’ve called him in passing. Gentle insults. Lewd flirts. Vents and rants. Photos you’ve sent of very insignificant things—houseplants, meals, clothes. And then there are the photos of your body in skimpy lingerie and cosplay, all taped to the wall like this is some abstract museum of the digital you. The you who, despite being honest most of the time, took solace in the world of Magicord. The you who’d grown close with the mod from that whimsical ocean-themed server. The you who is now trapped, your ankle enclosed in a cuff. There’s a lead that only allows you to meander into the attached bathroom if you so please, and you suspect it’ll pull taut if you try to leave the room.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, your stomach twisting with disgust.

You look down at your clothes—you’re in someone’s collared shirt, intentionally designed to be oversized so that it drapes like a nightgown—and horror prickles your skin.

And then he arrives.

He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, primly tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You stare for a long moment, studying his features as his familiarity dawns. Your mouth falls open in a muted scream.

He smiles sweetly, stepping further into the amber glow from the bedside lamps. “It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Sea Witch.”

But that’s not what’s shocking about this. The real shock—the thing that has your brain stumbling in an effort to put the pieces together before the picture can crumble—is far more jarring than the kidnapping and the captivity. You find your voice then, and before you can stop yourself the words are falling out in a hurry.

“CEO Ashengrotto?!”

Sea Witch—CEO Ashengrotto—stiffens, his brows furrowing immediately. He gives you a sharp, dangerous look. A look that seems to radiate one unspoken question: Where did you hear that name?

“You… You’re A-Azul Ashengrotto,” you continue, swallowing thick trepidation. “CEO of Mostro. You opened a new restaurant last year—Crave, right? And the menu features celebrity favorites—celebrities like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.”

He laughs his disbelief, carding a hand through soft, silvery locks. “How…do you know this?”

“I work there. You visited once with your secretary for quality checks. We even crossed paths.”

Azul gawks, realizes he’s gawking, and clears his throat. “I… I see. Well.” He inhales, holds his breath for three seconds, and exhales. “This makes things rather…awkward.”

“When you said businessman, I didn’t think… I mean, how was I supposed to know? Your voice sounds so different over call than it does in interviews.”

“Of course it does! I never use the same inflection for those things.”

This cannot be real, you think, watching him flounder anxiously. Azul Ashengrotto is Sea Witch. This whole time… Nine entire months… I was talking to the CEO—to the city’s most popular bachelor—and I didn’t even know it. They write articles about this guy! He’s all over the TV! How did I never realize?

And then a very mortifying thought worms its way in: Oh my God. We both know each other’s preferences. He saw so much of me—more than I’d ever want him to see—and I heard too many private things during our calls…

“Let’s just…” You rub circles into your temples to quell the incoming migraine. “Let’s never talk about this again. You can buy my silence and I’ll move on with my life. I’ll even forget all of…” You glance at the Magicord conversations stuck to the wall and then the chain binding your ankle. “All of this…stuff. We’ll agree to call it a misunderstanding and life will be good, yeah?”

The bargain doesn’t seem to reach him. He continues to stare at you, his eyes glazed with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s stormy and dark. You don’t like it, and you shrink away when he steps closer.

“All this time you were right under my nose…”

Azul climbs onto the bed with you, the mattress depressing under the additional weight. Framed by the hypnotic radiance of the skyscrapers climbing heavenward, he’s certainly earned his place in every celebrity gossip magazine you’ve ever read. Articles debating whether he’s secretly committed to a relationship. Articles theorizing what his life plans may have in store for him. Articles discussing whether he’ll ever get married, if he’ll remain single for the rest of his life, if he’ll ever open his heart to the many people who hope to earn his romantic affections.

No one knows it—how could they when he’s so tight-lipped with the paparazzi?—but you are the secret variable the articles have yet to discover. You are the covert partner, the one who has won his heart, the one who now sits shackled on his bed.

What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?

You scoot further up the bed, your back pressing against the ornately extravagant headboard. Your knees are pulled into your chest, a futile attempt at protection.

“All this time you were so close to me…” He marvels at this, his baby blue hues locked permanently on you. “And neither of us knew. I could’ve had you much sooner had I just realized…”

You blink at him, your heart sinking with every passing second. “Mr. Ashengrotto, what do you mean by that?”

A pout tugs at perfect, pretty lips. “Why so formal, angelfish? We’re much closer than that, surely.” His hands settle upon your knees, gently pulling them apart. Your blood curdles with fear. “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s only me.”

“No… Please wait. Hold on!”

“Hm? If I’m not mistaken, this is what you want. You were rather vocal about your desires. You’ve always been. So why are you looking at me like that? I’m not scary, am I?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please let me go…”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his tone patient despite the subject. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But you… You kidnapped me! Y-You had those guys hiding in my home and they…” You shake your head, unable to describe the sheer terror that had overwhelmed you when those creepy twins descended. Hopeless, you open your eyes to give him your most despairing look. Tears brim in your eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest prodding.

“Oh, my dear, did they scare you? They’re brutes who know nothing of how to treat a person with adequate care. You needn’t worry anymore. I’m here for you.” He cups your face in a fond hold, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. “Don’t cry, angelfish. You’re in good hands—my hands. And have they not been the most generous?”

“You’re crazy. Obsessed! How can you think any of this is okay? Look around at the walls! You’ve pasted our conversations everywhere—they’re practically the wallpaper!”

“What of it?” His hand slides down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet him at eye level. “I love you. I have for months now. And if those are the ways you choose to classify my care, so be it.”

Tear trails trace down your face. He leans in to kiss the rivers away, but they morph into the saltiest of seas.

“You may not approve of my affections right this very moment. You may hate me, think I’m monstrous, a culmination of all things foul, but you will love me. In due time, my dear. And when you do, the world will open and the chain will come off and you will know freedom under my roof.”

He has the gall to worship you with a loving smile. It poisons you with newly brewing abhorrence.

“So cry your heart out. Scream and kick up a fit. Do what you must. And when the floods subside, we can learn to love one another. Both at our best and our worst, within and beyond Magicord.”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #n/sfw

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bowtiepastabitch · 5 months

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Historical Analysis: class and injustice in 'The Ressurrectionists' minisode

Alternate title: why we're tempted to be upset with Aziraphale and why that's only halfway fair

Okay so first off huge thanks to @makewayforbigcrossducks for asking the question (and follow-up questions lol) that brought me to put these thoughts all together into a little history nerd ramble. That question being, Why is Aziraphale so clueless? Obviously, from a plot perspective, we know we need to learn some lessons about human moral dilemmas and injustices. But from a character perspective? A lot of this minisode is about Aziraphale being forced to confront the flaws of heavenly logic. This whole idea that "poverty is ineffable" basically boils down to 'yeah some people are poor, but their souls can be saved just as if not more easily that way, so it's not our problem and they probably deserve it anyway for not working hard enough,' a perspective that persists in many modern religious circles. Aziraphale isn't looking at the human factor here, he's pretty much purely concerned about the dichotomy of good and wicked human behavior and the spiritual consequences thereof, because that's what he's been told to believe. His whole goal is to "show her the error of her ways." He believes, quite wholeheartedly, that he's helping her in the long run.

"the lower you start, the more opportunities you have"

So here's what we're asking ourselves: Why did it take him so bloody long to realize how stupid that is? Sure, he's willing to excuse all kinds of things in the name of ineffability, but if someone in the year of our lord 2023 told me he was just now realizing that homelessness was bad after experiencing the past two centuries, I'd be resisting the urge to get violent even if he WAS played by Michael Sheen.

Historical context: a new type of poverty

Prior to the 19th century (1800s), poverty was a very different animal from what we deal with now. The lowest classes went through a dynamic change leading up to the industrial revolution, with proto-industrialization already moving people into more manufacture-focused tasks and rapid urbanization as a result of increasingly unlivable conditions for rural peasantry. The enclosure of common lands and tennancies by wealthy landowners for the more profitable sheep raising displaced lots of families, and in combination with poor harvests and rising rents, many people were driven to cities to seek out new ways of eeking out a living.

Before this, your ability to eat largely would have depended on the harvest in your local area. This can, for our purposes, be read as: you're really only a miracle away from being able to survive the winter. Juxtapose this, then, with the relatively new conundrum of an unhoused urban poor population. Now if you want to eat, you need money itself, no exceptions, unless you want to steal food. Charity at the time was often just as much harm as good, nearly always tied deeply up in religious attitudes and a stronger desire to proselytize than improve quality of lie. As a young woman, finding work in a city is going to be incredibly difficult, especially if you're not clean and proper enough to present as a housemaid or other service laborer. As such, Elspeth turns to body snatching to try to make a better life for herself and Wee Morag. She's out of options and she knows it.

You know who doesn't know that? Aziraphale.

The rise of capitalism

The biggest piece of the puzzle which Aziraphale is missing here is that he hasn't quite caught onto the concept of capitalism yet. To him, human professions are just silly little tasks, and she should be able to support herself if she just tried. Bookselling, weaving, farming, these are all just things humans do, in his mind. He suggests these things as options because it hasn't occurred to him yet that Elspeth is doing this out of desperation, but he also just doesn't grasp the concept of capital. Crowley does, he thinks it's hilarious, but Aziraphale is just confused as to why these occupations aren't genuine options. Farming in particular, as briefly touched on above, was formerly carried out largely on common land, tennancies, or on family plots, and land-as-capital is an emerging concept in this period of time (previously, landowners acted more like local lords than modern landlords). Aziraphale just isn't picking up on the fact that money itself is the root issue.

Even when he realizes that he fucked up by soup-ifying the corpse, he doesn't offer to give them money but rather to help dig up another body. He still isn't processing the systemic issues at play (poverty) merely what's been immediately presented to him (corpses), and this is, from my perspective, half a result of his tunnel-vision on morality and half of his inability to process this new mode of human suffering.

Half a conclusion and other thoughts

So we bring ourselves back around to the question of Aziraphale's cluelessness. Aziraphale is, as an individual, consistently behind on the times. He likes doing things a certain way and rarely changes his methodology unless someone forces his hand. Even with the best intentions, his ability to help in this minisode is hindered by two points: 1)his continued adherance to heavenly dogma 2)his inability to process the changing nature of human society. His strongest desire at any point is to ensure that good is carried out, an objective good as defined by heavenly values, and while I think it's one of his biggest character hangups, I also can't totally blame him for clinging to the only identity given to him or for worrying about something that is, as an ethereal being, a very real concern. Unfortunately, he also lacks an understanding of the actual human needs that present themselves. Where Elspeth knows that what she needs is money, Aziraphale doesn't seem to process that money is the only solution to the immediate problem. This is in part probably because a century prior the needs of the poor were much simpler, and thus miraculous assistance would never have interfered with 'the virtues of poverty'. (You can make someone's crops grow, and they'll eat well, but giving someone money actually changes their economic status.) Thus, his actions in this episode illustrate the intersection of heavenly guidelines with a weak understanding of modern structures.

This especially makes sense with his response to being told to give her money. Our angel is many things, but I would never peg him as having any attachment to his money. He's not hesitant because he doesn't want to part with it, he's hesitant because he's still scared it's the wrong thing to do in this scenario. He really is trying to be good and helpful. So yes, we're justifiably pretty miffed to see him so blatantly unaware and damaging. He definitely holds a lot of responsibility for the genuine tragedy of this minisode, and I think Crowley pointing out that it's 'different when you knew them' is an extremely important moment for Aziraphale's relationship with humanity. Up until now, he's done a pretty good job insulating himself from the capacity of humans for nastiness, his seeming naivity at the Bastille being case in point.

In the end, I think Aziraphale's role in this minisode is incredibly complex, especially within its historical context. He's obstinate and clueless but also deeply concerned with spiritual wellbeing (which is, to Aziraphale, simply wellbeing) and doing the right thing to be helpful. While it's easy to allow tiny Crowley (my beloved) to eclipse the tragic nature and moral complexity of this minisode, I think in the end it's just as important to long-term character development as 'A Companion to Owls'. We saw him make the right choice with Job's children, and now we see him make the wrong choice. And that's a thing people do sometimes, a thing humans do.

~~~

also tagging @ineffabildaddy, @kimberellaroo, and @raining-stars-somewhere-else whose comments on the original post were invaluable in helping me organize my thoughts and feelings about this topic. They also provided great insight that, in my opinion, is worth going and reading for yourself, even if it didn't factor into my final analysis/judgement.

If I missed anything or you have additional thoughts, please please share!!! <3

#this was a monster of a post to write #in no small part because I was relying more on my own historical knowledge than usual so I had to double check myself constantly #but I had a lot of fun and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did #good omens #good omens 2 #neil gaiman #good omens analysis #good omens meta #the resurrectionists #good omens season 2 #good omens minisode #nerd shit #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens

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bloodsbane · 2 days

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what i love about laios is that he's actually very good at putting puzzle pieces together BUT HERE'S THE THING 1) he needs to HAVE the information, and 2) (this is important) he needs to KNOW it is information he should care about

and i think this could be said of anyone but the thing with laios is that people tend to view his lack of awareness wrt social etiquette and memory problems as pure indifference and/or obliviousness; sometimes they misinterpret his motives based on their inaccurate expectations of him and therefore don't give his thoughts on a subject the credit he deserves

one of the most obvious examples of this happens at least twice in the manga as i remember it, but the most recent incident was when they were trying to resurrect falin. there's a moment where laios mentions reconstructing both of the warg skeletons, as their bones are mixed in with hers. both chilchuck and senshi balk at this, with chilchuck complaining aloud, questioning laios' priorities,

and laios quickly, angrily retorts. his reason for making the suggestion is perfectly logical and practical, but because his friends are used to his interest in monsters influencing his judgement, often in ways they see as frivolous or dangerous, they don't come to the same conclusion. one which i'd argue is kind of obvious considering the situation

we see it again during his fight with toshiro, where toshiro demands to know what laios plans to do to save falin. laios takes a minute to answer, but he DOES answer, following the logic that if falin is a chimera because of (and controlled by) the mad mage, then the logical next step is to confront/defeat/usurp them

then in the following episode, when chilchuck brings it up again, laios explains what he (now) knows about thistle, mentioning that he's the same elf that laios saw in the living paintings, which is why he knows thistle's connection to delgal. the party reacts like this:

i'd say this is an example of them feeling frustration over laios' habit of having 'bad timing', not knowing when or how to speak at appropriate moments. theyre judging him for not saying something earlier, as if he already knew all this but didn't think to mention it when it was relevant, when the reality is that laios only just now had all the pieces he needed to understand the full picture

and i mention this bit specifically because i think it's a great way to explain what i mean by point 2: laios needs to know when information is important and worth considering

which, again, feels fucking obvious. but as someone who ALSO has debilitating issues with remembering important shit, i find this particular element of it pretty relatable and critical to my overall point. it's not laios' fault that he didn't know who thistle was or his significance - why the hell would he assume that a person he met in a living painting, presumably long since dead in reality, should be someone who's face, name, or motives he keeps in mind?

ultimately, i guess what i'm trying to say with all this is that the way others treat laios' intelligence is not congruent to how actually smart he is. one of the things i love most about laios, what is possibly his biggest strength and the reason he is such a great protagonist, is that laios is willing to think things through and find the most logical conclusion to a problem, no matter how outlandish or dangerous or seemingly impossible that conclusion may be. sister got eaten? race back down to go get her. can't afford food? fight, defeat, and eat dangerous monsters. sister's fully digested? use black magic to bring her back. now she's a chimera? defeat the mage controlling her and use that power to fix it.

anyways. what was even my point with this post? i guess it is that laios is smart, at least as smart as anyone else in the cast, arguably smarter than some. he is intelligent and utilizes that intelligence in many ways, not JUST when it comes to monster info (though that is his best and sexiest brand of knowledge)

and also please be nice to your friends with memory problems. it's rough out here for forgetful bitches

#banebabbles #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi meta #cant remember if that's my tag for it. oh well #this post is kinda messy but it's fine it doesn't matter #i just had to express some thoughts after rewatching some eps w partner #i was fumbling w my closer but i guess it really is just that like #i have a lot of feelings about anyone calling laios dumb or dense or totally oblivious #bc he's not. he just doesn't think The Same Way as the other chars and also #is at a DISADVANTAGE. bc of the AUTISM. can you believe it #he gets taken for granted and others' perceptions of him influence how they treat him in lots of way #including his intelligence. unfortunately. and you hate to see it

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7-wonders · 5 months

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whenever the fates called morpheus love or dear it just gives me this image of morpheus coming to meet reader at their volunteer job at an old peoples home and all the elderly ladies giggling and calling him such a handsome man and why if they were a few decades younger they'd have him for themselves you're standing in the background not knowing how to reply to any of that

(This was like pulling teeth. When will my ability to write return from war?)

There are many little quirks when it comes to being in a relationship with a primordial, all-powerful being such as Dream of the Endless. One such instance is that time does not run the same for an Endless as it does for a human. Morpheus can lose minutes, hours, days to his duties between one blink and the next.

The Dreaming, that fantastical kingdom that your lover rules over, runs on the same logic. You can spend what feels like an hour in the Dreaming, only for it to be an entire day later in the Waking. Likewise, weeks in the Dreaming can be merely an hour in the Waking. It's disconcerting to creatures that have lived far longer than you.

All of this is to say that your meetings often don't have a specific date or time when they're in the Waking, simply because Morpheus doesn't know. He tries, though it's difficult: clocks do not work in the Dreaming, and Matthew is too important a raven to be constantly flying to the Waking to check the time so that Morpheus can "run off" (Matthew's words) with you. You've actually started to look forward to the spontaneity—it helps that he usually gets lucky and catches you when you're home or alone and don't have to worry about explaining how he just randomly appeared out of thin air.

Though it's rare, him coming to the Waking to see you and you being in public has happened before. This time, he shows up when you're just finishing up at the retirement home you volunteer at a couple times a month—you're in charge of what's supposed to be a crossword puzzles group, but what is mainly just a gossip group.

Most mortals aren't able to see Morpheus when he doesn't want to be seen. You're not most mortals, however, and you've gotten pretty damn good at sensing when he's around, which is why you're the only one that notices him lurking in the corner closest to the door.

"Hi," you mouth, trying and failing to hide your grin as you give him a discreet wave.

Your excitement must be palpable, because the women quickly pick up on it and thus catch sight of a tall, dark, and handsome stranger across the room. Ethel, the boldest of the group by far, grabs your arm and yanks you down to her level. "Is that the boyfriend?"

"Yes, that's the boyfriend."

They all know about the boyfriend because you've gushed about your beloved to this little group more than a few times. How can you not, though? Especially when you're surrounded by those who enjoy living vicariously through you and thus cajole you into sharing such stories about your love life.

"She thought he was fake, y'know," Ida informs you.

"Did not!" Ethel retorts. "I was just curious because you never showed us any pictures!"

"I've told you before that Morpheus is a little camera-shy." You don't actually know if that's the case or not; you just haven't yet figured out how to ask the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares if he wants to take a cute couple's selfie.

"Morpheus! Oh, how exotic." The little group titters, thrilled at having learned his name.

The man (-shaped being) of the hour has moved, placing a hand on your lower back so as to not frighten you when he suddenly stands next to you. You smile up at him and are greeted with the smallest of smiles in return while the sounds of your seniors oohing and aahing fade into mere background noise. Surroundings tend to become meaningless when you see Morpheus; all that matters then is you and he.

Morpheus is the one to remind you that you have an audience when he turns his attention upon said audience. He bows his head politely and says, "I greet you, ladies."

As you expected, they go absolutely nuts when they hear his voice.

"Oh my!" Ida blushes.

Ethel beams. "Aren't you a handsome one!"

"Why, if I were a few decades younger..." Shirley, who has absolutely no filter whatsoever, winks at Morpheus.

You sputter, your eyes wide and blood rushing to your cheeks. "Shirley!"

"What? I have eyes!"

While you're ready to hide your face in your hands and die (maybe you should see if Death has a cell phone), Morpheus simply hums in amusement. "You are very kind."

"And you are a sweetheart."

"Okay, that does it for me today," you interrupt. It's not a lie; you were literally saying your goodbyes and on your way out before Morpheus arrived! "I'll see you guys in a couple of weeks."

"You bring Morpheus around any time, alright?"

You can't get out of there fast enough, and Morpheus lets you practically drag him towards the parking lot. Once you're out in the fresh air (and away from any of the windows that your favorite gals could be spying from), you bury your head in Morpheus's shoulder and groan.

"I'm sorry. That was so embarrassing," you lament.

"Why? They were...sweet, if not a little overt in their affections."

You lift your head up to meet his eyes. "That's why it was embarrassing, my love."

"You are very clearly dear to them. They simply want to see you happy."

"I'm assuming you know that with your super special dream magic?"

"Daydreams and hopes are quite loud, starlight." He smirks because you know damn well just how loud some daydreams can be (specifically yours when you're thinking about Morpheus) before pressing his lips to your forehead.

"Well, you're certainly in their good graces now. They've been so nosy since they found out I'm seeing someone."

"So I lived up to their expectations, then?"

Now it's your turn to smirk. "Baby, you were beyond their wildest dreams."

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman

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sonicblueartist · 1 month

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What about a one-shot or just a suggestive story where Shadow takes advantage of y/n?

A/n: I'm probably gonna get all the fans' attention with this one huh? I normally don't write anyone but Tails but I am making an expection for some reason today. Have a good read I guess! Idk why I write what I write today XD Sorry for the long wait.

I left you guys in a cliffhanger. hah! idk if I would continue tho

Masterlist

Pairings: Shadow x Reader

They/them // She/her // He/him // Other

Summery; Eggman made a new weapon out of Shadow. Let's see what it is

Warnings: smut, lemon, suggestive themes, blood, marking, biting, tearing flesh, attempted rape

Word Count: 1371

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

As your eyes flickered over him in fear, you were instantly struck by the sharp and scary aura emanating from his breathtaking violet eyes. Shadow stood before you, his chest heaving rapidly as if he had just completed a long and demanding marathon. His fur was damp, drenched in sweat, and his claws peeked out menacingly from his gloves. His fangs were visible, adding to the unnerving sight that confronted you. But what puzzled you most was the absence of any evidentiary explanation for his condition, except for one haunting phrase that echoed in your mind.

"What do you think is the most natural instinct of an animal, the most wild and scary one?" Eggman's voice resonated in your head, reminding you of his words moments ago. "Their bloodlust? Hunger to stay alive? Maybe. But there is something else that is much *more* dangerous and entertaining. 'The will to do anything to death for their mate.' "

The memory of Eggman's sinister revelation half an hour ago flooded your mind. You hadn't expected this game of catch to turn into something so disturbing. Though you had managed to catch your breath, your heart still raced uncontrollably, struggling to make sense of the unsettling situation unfolding before you.

Your eyes widened in fear as Shadow took deliberate steps toward you, raising the possibility of him falling victim to Eggman's trap, turning against his friends. A sense of terror gripped you, leaving you feeling trapped with no way to escape. Desperately, you scanned your surroundings, searching for an exit, but found nothing. You found yourself backed into a dead end.

"And to mate, of course." Your throat tightened as you heard Eggman's words reverberating in your mind. The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—Shadow was hungry, thirsty for you. Eggman's twisted plans had successfully turned him, and now the true extent of Shadow' instincts became clear. No, this couldn't be true. Shadow wouldn't do this to you, would he? The shocking dishonor of Eggman's manipulation left you bewildered, unable to fathom the torment inflicted upon your friends.

"C-come on, Shadow. This isn't you," you started nervously, your voice shaking. "We both know that you don't wanna do this. Behave yourself! Think logically, like you always do! We're still in Eggman's base. He's playing with you, with your mind, your instincts! You are the ultimate life form, damn it! You can't just succumb to Eggman like that! There are Badniks running around, and if they find us, we're finished-"

Your plea was interrupted as Shadow forcefully pinned both his hands beside your head, a whimper left your lips in fear. A deep snarl escaping his lips as you attempted to slide away. Trapped between him and the wall, you realized the extent of his transformation. No longer the loyal companion you once knew, he approached you with predatory purpose, garnered by one sole instinct—breeding. You were left with a terrifying decision. Would you become the first to fall at his hands before the Badniks got to you?

After examining his prey's frightened face for a while, Shadow slowly lowered himself, his nose skimming along your neck. His actions mirrored those of a true animal, inhaling your scent as his salivating mouth revealed his primal desire for your presence. The sensation of his warm breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the horrifying nature of the situation.

Attempting to muster the strength to push him away, you fought against his grip, but his strength surpassed anything you could have imagined. Like an iron vice, his grasp held firm, rendering your efforts fruitless. In spite of the predicament you found yourself in, you couldn't help but be mesmerized by Shadow' well-built form, his muscles flexing in the most hypnotic manner.

You quickly shook away such distracting thoughts, forcing yourself to concentrate on finding a way out of this nightmare. Every fiber of your being screamed for escape as Shadow began to suckle at your neck and shoulder, exhaling his hot breath in sporadic bursts. The sounds he made only served to further ignite the blazing heat that reddened your face, flooding you with a mix of desire and terror.

Suppressing a moan, you desperately struggled to redirect your focus, your mind racing for an escape plan. Yet, how could you concentrate on anything other than the overpowering dominance Shadow exhibited? Pressed against the wall by his scorching body, each breath and moan he emitted only served to remind you of the pleasure he was experiencing.

Amidst his sloppy kisses and teasing nibbles, you fought fiercely against the sensations threatening to consume you, trying to maintain your composure. However, as Shadow momentarily eased the pressure of his body against yours, he replaced it with his leg pressed against your groin, effectively preventing any escape. The mix of pain and pleasure elicited a whine from your lips, pushing Shadow to suckle at your shoulder with renewed vigor.

Finally, he got bored and withdrew from his sloppy territory. The room grew suffocatingly silent as he moved his fangs along your throat, gently biting a few places, feeling your heartbeat increasing. He licked his lips and shifted his attention to your other shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses and sucking hungrily, leaving little marks. But it seemed like that wasn't enough for him anymore; he growled, as if yearning for something more primal.

With his fingers deeply entwined in your hair, he pulled, causing you to gasp, displaying your neck like a plate of meal to him. Without warning, he sank his teeth into your shoulder, his fangs piercing through your skin. Tears slipped from your eyes as you cried out in pain. He let your arms go and held you tightly from your waist, as you gripped his back for support. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth, and unwillingly scratched his back in pain. It felt as though his teeth were digging deeper into your shoulder, testing your limits.

Shadow let out a pleasured sigh through his nose, not yet satisfied. He continued biting harder than before, his eyes closed as he let out an animalistic growl. The realization that he could break your neck in half if he wanted sent a shiver through your spine. He sucked your blood with such thirst leaving you weak as you sobbed silently, drinking and swallowing it all as if he hadn't had a drop in weeks.

Before things grew any wilder, he pulled back, a string of blood and saliva still connecting the two of you. Panting for air, he tried to lick all the blood flowing from his mouth with his tongue, his breath hot against your face. Your blood flowed from your shoulder to your chest.

Satisfied with the mark he left on you, Shadow now went for your lips. Gripping your form, he forced his lips onto yours, connecting them. You hesitated, not wanting to taste the disgusting blend of your blood and his saliva. He pulled your hair once again, and when you whimpered in pain, he immediately seized the opportunity and engaged in a fierce kiss, taking your breath away.

Your heart raced as his hand wandered across your body in a manner both unnerving and inquisitive. He marked his territory, staking claim to every inch of your being. Your mind battled to comprehend the situation, as your body responded to his predatory touch.

Fighting the rising panic, you summoned your inner strength you managed to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt to distract him. As your lips collided in a feverish kiss, you hoped to manipulate the situation to your advantage.

To your surprise, he welcomed your advances. He tilted his head, letting out a low, carnal moan. Sensing that this could be your one chance to regain control, you decided to play along. You pushed aside your feelings of self-disgust and harnessed your newfound determination.

As you passionately kissed, your mind churned, searching for an escape plan. With each stolen moment, you became acutely aware of his animalistic nature, his primal desires, and his desperate need to assert dominance. Yet, instead of submitting to the imminent danger, an idea began to form in your mind.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic characters #allenwrites #sonic #shadow x reader #shadow #shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow the hedgehog #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedghog fanart #shadow the hedgehog x reader

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 5 months

Text

Poly! Jegulus x gn! Reader - When there is no logic, look deeper

A/n: I decided to go with a different analogy for James's and Regulus's relation than I normally do (and what everyone else normally does.) So have fun with this little drabble!

Summary: Your relationship with James and Regulus through Remus's perspective.

Warnings: Swearing, brief mentions of child abuse, brief mentions of mental health issues (if you squint,) I think that's it? You have been warned!

The Three P's:

[Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic!) (poly!) jegulus x reader, (romantic!) wolfstar, (platonic!) marauders]

I do NOT support J. K. Rowling, or any transphobic/homophobic things she says (or anything she says really), or TERFS!

Regulus and James fit together, in a neat messy puzzle. James's darker skin contrasting with Regulus's more pale, like the sun and it's moon. Recently, Remus had been reading some muggle plays of man named Shakespeare, and just by looking at the two, he could tell that he would've written down every piece of their love story, until he knew it by heart.

The enigma, the question, he just couldn't find the answer to was you, because Regulus and James were different sides of the same coin. Slytherin and Gryffindor, light and dark, sun and moon. You just didn't fit as nicely into the big picture.

That's what he used to think anyway, before the marauders and everyone else had gotten to know you. To Remus, he used to think of you as a temporary escape for the two boys, as you were the only one out of the three who had a normal life. It was harsh, but it was the only answer to the equation he could come up with.

Remus's life hadn't been full of answers, maybe that's why he tried to find the solution, so there would be no more variables. So he didn't have to attempt to find the solution later, when they most needed it most. So maybe, just once his life could be left with more answers than questions.

Action reaction, like getting bit by a werewolf - he was one of them now. Finding Sirius, James, and Peter on the train - becoming friends. Gaining feelings for Padfoot, confessing them and becoming a couple. (Okay, maybe there were multiple steps to that equation.) Everything had a solution, something he liked to find to keep himself sane. When everything else in his life was swirled with insanity.

You fitting into the equation didn't follow a path of logic, it was completely and utterly crazy.

Now, he sees what he didn't before, the way you would stay with James even when the smile slipped from his lips. How you would listen to Regulus, and give him space to talk about his family troubles, why he stayed.

You would let James cry, and make Regulus giggle, the planets didn't just revolve around the sun now. Now the moon and it's star revolved around you.

You were a nebula, because when a person looked at you, they gasped in wonder. Everything unknown and beautiful was you, a glittering cloud of normalcy and love. Nurturing but fleeting if need be.

One time, Sirius said he and his brother were the stars, and you only laughed, shaking your head.

"Regulus is like the moon, for so long we thought we couldn't reach him, until we did."

Remus's boyfriend looked startled, Remus could agree with the feeling. How had you, just made sense of someone so complex, with so many strings and layers, with just a sentence?

The werewolf wanted to see how you would respond if he asked you about everybody at Hogwarts, about the ministry, his family. Instead, he asked you about your other boyfriend.

"James?" You smiled softly, and for some reason it warmed Remus's heart, that when you thought about his friend, you immediately were happy. As if just thinking about him was enough to revel in his sunlight.

"James is the sun, he's bright, but sometimes his brilliance gets the peoples eyes, it can annoy them. Until he gets farther away." You still had a pleasant look upon your face, but your eyes were brightly alight with sadness. "Then it's winter, and they long for summer again, because then the sun could be there to warm them a second time. Regardless of its blinding sunlight."

Remus thinks, that was the moment that he started to understand why James and Regulus had both fallen for you. You were the beautiful unknown, a nebula, out of reach, but oh, so beautiful to gaze upon.

Remus still didn't quite comprehend how you fit into the grand scheme of things, but he thinks, he starting to see the big picture.

Words 670

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Hp Taglist: @regulusblackswhorecrux

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

Text

Ataraxia.

Yan Xiao x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, implied kidnapping and isolation. Word count: 2k.

You think you may live in a painting.

It sounds like a romantic notion if taken at face value. The idyllic beauty that surrounds you could inspire the most prose-averse individual to take a brush to paper, creating line after line of wondrous descriptions. Blades of emerald grass, running streams with water so clear one could see the smooth pebbles resting at the bottom, white clouds as puffy as cotton floating without a care in the sky. There’s wildlife in abundance too. Frogs make a perch of the numerous lilypads dotted throughout, fish swim in their crystalline exhibit, and birds sing the same melody as if they shared sheet music.

If you dared to venture to the edge of this canvas, an invisible force would inevitably block your path. The tall stone peaks in the horizon hinted at more, an empty promise. You could only go so far. Out of curiosity, you once threw rocks to test the boundary and found they were granted passage. Other materials followed the same logic. Where they ended up, you hadn’t the slightest clue.

All you know is that they’re freer than you are.

Presently, you sit crisscross on the edge of this elaborate hoax crafted with adepti magic. The grass which never grows or withers brushes your bare thighs, the sensation far from unpleasant, for the unpleasant does not exist here. The temperature is always moderate; the breeze, always soft.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

So sickeningly perfect.

Taking in a deep breath, you ready yourself for the trial ahead. Delight in it, almost. You tire of these calm waters. You long to see ripples, towering waves strong enough to capsize ships.

“Xiao.”

The intended effect is instantaneous. There’s a culmination of energy, wisps of dark black and green, solidifying into the image of a figure you once read about in history books growing up. Gauging his mood is impossible, so you don’t bother trying. You stare straight ahead, into the false sunset which hides behind mountains that might as well be mirages.

“Did you need something?”

The clipped, almost business-like tone he uses once made you wonder if you were a bother. Time dispelled this notion and made way for a bizarre truth. He acts this way because you put him on edge. You cause his mind to wander in directions he never knew it could traverse. In truth, you might understand why you’re here better than he does. Your scant wardrobe was your first hint — every garment shows a surprising amount of skin. Low-cut collars, skirts stopping over your thighs. Then there was the staring, the peculiar gift-giving, and what you assume to be attempts at small talk.

He’s courting you, whether he knows it or not.

This is something you can work with.

“I was hoping you would come sit with me,” you pat the empty spot beside you. “Unless you’re too busy?”

There’s an intentional lilt in your voice — you let it grow smaller, almost as if his potential rejection would hurt. He has an out, but it’d come at a cost. He’d be dissatisfying you in some way when you haven’t done anything to earn it. He likes to please you, you think, if the countless trinkets he’s wordlessly left in your room are of any indicator. Whatever you pay the most attention to, he brings more of. It’s a silent give-and-take that neither of you acknowledges.

No, you preferred to store the information away for later usage.

After giving it some thought, he situates himself where you motioned. You can see the tension in his taut muscles, clear as day. A beat of silence passes. Now that you’ve confirmed he isn’t going to run away (as he had in the past when you came unexpectedly close), foreign confidence fills you. You’re putting together the puzzle that is Xiao piece by piece.

“It must be getting close to this year’s Lantern Rite,” you give him a closed-mouth smile. Xiao’s diamond-shaped pupils flicker down to your lips, then back up again, his face temporarily giving the impression that he’s in pain. He regathers himself in the blink of an eye. “Are you looking forward to it? It always ends up being such a spectacle.”

Xiao inhales sharply. “It… has already passed.”

“Oh.”

You curl into yourself. Not enough to send any alarms ringing in his head, since he never knew what to do with himself when you cried. The threat of tears is more effective. He shuffles slightly, betraying his growing unrest, yet doesn’t grumble a lackluster excuse and leave. Hopefully he doesn’t catch how relieved that makes you.

Unbeknownst to him, you’re aware that Liyue’s hallmark event has finished. You’ve been dutifully tracking the days in a little notebook he gave you. Bringing it up and being let down is your way of setting the stage. Earning some sympathy, no matter how tiny a grain it may be. For your ultimate design to come to fruition, you must use every resource available.

“I can get you a lantern, if you want one.”

An olive branch. His eyes silently plead with you to take it, rather than scorn the concession as you had in the past, foolish creature that you were. Playing rough never got you anywhere. That’s why these days, you’ve taken to playing nice.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

He nods, undoubtedly grateful that you didn’t choose to linger on why you couldn't see this year’s Lantern Rite. Your mind wanders — you recall overhearing village wives giggle about how they use their feminine wiles to win over their husbands on sore subjects. In a way, you suppose that’s what you’re doing, but what you long for is such a simple goal. To even label it a goal feels wrong.

What you want more than anything, is to go outside.

Into the real outdoors, not this fake, implausible rendition. A mockery of reality.

You speak his name again, for you know he likes hearing it from your lips.

“We’ve fallen into a good routine, I think. I know I had a rough time, way back in the beginning, but I see things differently now. I feel different too.”

He frowns, cautious of where this could go.

His curiosity wins in the end. “Different… how?”

“I was scared at first. I didn’t know what was going to happen, if I was in danger or not. That didn’t last long though, right? I learned you want to keep me safe. When I realized I wasn’t in danger, I stopped being difficult,” you lean in, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Since I’ve been good… would you hear me out on a request? Just one?”

The slightest blush dusts his cheeks at your closeness. “I’ll listen. You shouldn’t get your hopes up, though.”

As if he needed to remind you.

Your heart whirrs to life within your chest. This is it, there’s no turning back now. The outcome of this interaction will bleed into your future.

“I want to see the real world.”

Emotions pass over his countenance in quick succession. Confusion, surprise, and then mild indignation. You’re broaching a taboo topic. He knows it, you know it too. The Yaksha must be using every ounce of his strength not to immediately shut the subject down. He clenches his jaw tight, yet keeps his lips pursed, allowing you to further plead your case.

“You want to keep me safe and— and I get that. I really do. I’m sure that during your long life, you’ve encountered evils I couldn’t even begin to fathom. Despite that, you’re still here, because you’re strong,” in a bold act, you place your hand to his forearm. His muscles stiffen beneath the touch. “It doesn’t have to be long. Thirty minutes. Fifteen, even. You can choose the time, the place. Just… please, Xiao.”

“You’re… asking for a lot.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

You fight the urge to shrink back at the sharp inflection in his voice. Sensing this, he sighs, tearing his gaze from you and staring ahead. “If it’s a change in scenery you want, I can manage that. So long as it’s in here.”

Another olive branch. Held out more tentative than the last, above an ever-growing pile you yearn to incinerate.

“That isn’t what I want,” you say, licking your dry lips. This gets him to look at you again — out of the corner of his eye, but you digress — an idea forming as a result. If anything remains of your pride, surely this next query will do away with it. “If you do this for me… maybe you can get something out of it.”

You press the swell of your chest against his arm. He snaps his head in your direction, the blush that’s ever-present on his face whenever you’re around spreading to his ears. Touching him feels wrong. Repulsive, even. You’re giving him what he wants when he’s taken everything from you. Freedom, autonomy, and any chances at a regular life; these essential tenets will never be yours again. You have to barter for their cheap imitation.

“I can smile more. Wear whatever you’d like. I can welcome you when you come home after a long day, run to embrace you, wipe the remnants of blood off your face. I’d dote on you and you could dote on me. I’ll let you. You can hold me to this.”

A shaky hand rises to cup your face. You will yourself to stay still, to prove your resolve, no matter how nauseating it is to be in physical contact with him. He’s fixating on your lips again. The air around him is thick — a consequence of his karmic debt — which causes your ears to ring and your head to ache from pressure.

“I didn’t bring you here for that.”

You wonder if that was intended to convince you or himself.

“I made this place for you. Nothing can go wrong here, there’s no risk of you being harmed. Mortals… mortals are fragile. It takes almost nothing for you to get hurt, or sick… and then…”

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to.

You’re losing him. Losing the chance for a rough gale to take your breath away, or witness a thunderstorm with booming thunder and threatening clouds. This isn’t living, this is existing. Trapped within a frame where everything is in perpetual stasis. Nothing grows, nothing changes, it remains as it has been and always will be. Your mortal existence he goes to such lengths to coddle isn’t meant for this.

In the distance, a finch sings. You’ve heard the song enough to commit it to heart. Without the passing of seasons, the wildlife never changes. The stars don’t reveal new constellations. The moon is always full. The frogs sit in the same place, the fish move in a predictable loop. Once you start noticing these details, you’re cursed to catch them everywhere.

“I’ll still get you the lantern,” he reluctantly draws away from you. “You can release it here.”

You look up at the sky. At this time of day, there’s always a cloud that looks like a silly little mouse. You found it cute at first. Then you saw it again the following day. Then the next. And each day after that.

You hug your knees to your chest. “Don’t bother. There wouldn’t be a point.”

He quietly says your name and you ignore him.

You don’t know why he’s sticking around. Whenever he’s upset you before, he’d leave at the first opportunity, rightfully finding the situation beyond his abilities. Is it because he got so close to what he truly wants, the ugly truth hidden deep beneath his claim of keeping you safe? You’d prefer it if he came to grips with the fact. Then he wouldn’t have to bother with all the lies. He isn’t very good at it, anyway.

“You said you can change the scenery here, right?”

He nods.

“Please get rid of the birds, then,” you mumble. “I don’t think I can take hearing them for much longer.”

Xiao considers you for a long moment. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

It isn’t, but if you’re forced to occupy this constructed wonderland, it might as well look as barren as it feels.

#xiao x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

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transhawks · 1 month

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Probably because Dabi is not a child lmao. It is cringe af to want to see an adult man acting like a little pet to his childhood abuser and think of it like a nice cute thing. As if Dabi wasn't already fucked up enough.

This is a pretty fucked up way of looking at it.

"pet". So, a lot of abused as kids adults still have contact with their abusers. Maybe they have no other way of having survival and do it for financial reasons, maybe the abusers are their only support network. But aside from the "having to", you're missing another big part of the puzzle here. A lot of us love our abusers and acknowledge that as a part of them. And while the kneejerk reaction is "you shouldn't, they don't deserve it", I want to point out how fucking invalidating it feels to be told that it's "hate your abuser for what they've done" or "they're your family, you must forgive" as the only options. I've always said I want more media and stories where people like me can walk away or cut ties with abusive family because I don't think there's enough of them BUT I also don't want to shame or hurt people who want/need their own resolution of still being in contact or considering their abusers family. It's unfair to act like this a zero sum game.

No one wants Touya to "be a little pet" to Endeavor. Or at least I don't. But acknowledging it's love that fuels this and it's love that is very much a solution is a core part of the manga. It's sickening to me that you reduced the complexity of the Todoroki storyline like this, not going to lie.

And! He's fucked up! The whole story is fucked up! The whole point of Dabi, and Shouto, and just the Todoroki family is about how abuse and their societal expectations can fuck you up! Abuse doesn't often produce well-adjusted, logical or rational individuals, you have to work to undue to the literal brain damage it does to you! That's one of the whole issues with ABUSE, you know????

Dabi was emotionally abused and neglected and the root cause is so much because he genuinely loved his father, who did not know how to be an actual father and was too scared to learn/own up to his own failures. That produced this cycle. Wanting that core characterization of him to be acknowledged in fanon is not wanting Dabi to be a pet. It's wanting people to actually fucking engage with the material we are GETTING.

Let's be clear - the manga is ending with Dabi reuniting with his family. He's currently passed out and his father essentially trying to shield his family's bodies with his own body. This is not the kind of thing that's going to lead to "well, damn, i'm out of here" from Dabi. Maybe it will in a few years when there's so much more agency on Touya's part where he can choose the relationship he wants going forward. Recovery is never a straight line, and each child can define the relationship on their own terms, but it's absolutely clear that Dabi wanted that closeness and acknowledgment from his family NOW. He literally asks why it took so long in his near-death heat haze. And that means Touya and Enji will have to figure out a new relationship. If that bothers you, if you really wanted a revenge fantasy rather than an ending that relies on empathy and accountability going forward, then this is not the manga for you.

#asks

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mari-lair · 7 months

Text

Kou never mistakes Hanako for a human, and I find that interesting.

He heard about Amane from Nene, who had front roll seats to his past and gained an intimate wake up call that "Hanako is not a 'magic being' from a fantasy book, he was a student, who is now dead"

His death is not a conflict for Kou though, is just who he is. He is well aware the ghost is dead, so what Nene shares isn't a revelation, is just small pieces of the puzzle that is Hanako: the understanding he used to study here.

Kou has no real link to Amane, he never met the guy. Even when explicitly talking about Amane, Kou has no mental image of this 13-year-old who killed his own brother, he can only picture Hanako, the ghost.

Kou doesn't interact with 'Amane' in Picture Perfect either, the very few interactions they have are super short, and always started by Hanako in his Amane disguise.

The one time Kou approaches him is because 'Amane' was carrying an unconscious Nene, so he gets curious, and shows that he doesn't trust him.

But when he learns it's Hanako, he is delighted. It doesn't matter that Mitsuba is acting weird, and that he still didn't get any answers, cause is Hanako! Hanako his buddy!

He never had a wish for Hanako to be alive, to be his classmate, so he doesn't feel any desperate attachment to the idea of 'Yugi Amane' like he did with the idea of 'Mitsuba Sousuke' only ever seeing him as a wrong version of Hanako from the start. Is not real, so of course he doesn't trust him.

His view of Hanako cannot be separated from him being a ghost.

Hanako is the one who properly introduced Kou to the world of supernaturals and served as an informant on the Far Shore when Teru kept him in the dark. He teaches Kou about rumors, boundaries, supernatural festivals, and introduces him to the complex feelings some of the dead may have about lingering on the Near Shore.

There are two main mentalities Kou has when it comes to Hanako, the first is 'I don't know enough about Hanako to tell if he is a threat, he is so weird, I want to learn about him' The second is 'he helps me and Nene. He looks after us, he is our friend.' and usually he focuses on the second.

But the "i need to gauge if he is a threat" mentality is just as important as his attachment to Hanako.

It's what makes him keep an eye on him and occasionally act like a judge, trying to figure out what is going on with him, which is a hard task.

Hanako does a lot of good and bad things to Kou.

He sealed his exorcist staff, which debilitates him through basically the whole manga, but he helps and saves him and Nene when called, he lies and is selfish, but he seems to only lie for silly things or what Hanako seems to believe is the greater good (the tears eye drops, Nene's lifespan). He seems guilty and burdened by his murder but he did murder someone. He is important to Nene, he is important to Kou, and so on.

Is too much to keep track of. Too hard to give a judgment.

So he focus on his feelings way more than logic, and he is very inclined to have a positive view of Hanako. He wants Hanako to be good. To be a friend.

He does notice his slimy behavior and he does change his perception of Hanako, slowly understanding him better and growing more wary of what he says, more careful when trying to read him.

But his doubts aren't nearly as heavy as his hopes for Hanako: He believes he wants the best for them.

If we go back to the scene where Nene is talking about Amane, there is something she says that sticks with Kou, something that immediately catches his attention "Maybe I shouldn't be his friend"

Unlike his death, this is a conflict Kou relates to.

He is making donuts for Hanako as they speak, absorbing everything he learns about the guy and using the information to help Hanako because he wants to cheer up Hanako.

Hanako being important to Nene is important to Kou. They are a group to him, and he isn't alone in his uncertainty.

Kou keep this mentality of just doing what he wants for a while, childish as it is, but slowly, he is forced to give Hanako more thought, to take him seriously.

His view on Hanako has been tipping to the negative recently. He always knew about Hanako being strange and full of secrets but he can't dismiss it anymore, since the ghost started lying about big things, like trapping Nene in a fake world and exchanging Aoi's lifespan for hers without Nene's consent. Is not like his usual avoidance and silly lies, he is getting harmful.

Hanako gave Kou plenty of glimpses into his more 'inhuman' mentality. He has shown Kou a lot of hints that pratically scream "Stop trusting me kid."

It piles up.

It becomes harder to know what is a lie. What isn't. What is okay and what shouldn't be forgiven.

Kou keeps trying to understand him and give him the benefit of the doubt , he truly doesn't want to believe Hanako is just an 'evil spirit' after everything they've been through. He is a supernatural but he is his teacher and friend too, that got to mean something.

But he doesn't have a clear answer. He can think as hard as he want, he still has no idea what is going on inside Hanako's head, he just wants to believe is something for Nene's sake. Because even if he isn't sure what Hanako thinks of him, he wants to believe he wants Nene to be happy, that his care for her is strong and genuine.

Besides the conflict between "he is an apparition, he is a friend" There is also the way Kou is dependent on Hanako.

Hanako is extremely helpful, he gives him all the answers related to supernaturals. Even when Kou didn't trust Hanako, the ghost already took the role of 'the guide' in the group, offering Kou something he always wanted: Information on supernaturals. A ticket to be part of a world Kou had always wanted to be part of, but his brother had sheltered him from.

Kou always goes to Hanako when he is in trouble. Regardless of how shady he acts, Hanako always helps.

So when he tells Kou he is incompetent, it gives him a wake up call.

Kou always had an inferiority complex, but this puts into perspective how he relies a lot on Hanako. He doesn't solve anything by himself, he either follows Hanako's lead, or faces a dead end.

Kou has a lot to think about after that. He doesn't want to keep relying on Hanako, he wants to take action himself, to be something that doesn't follow Hanako or Teru's lead.

He focuses mostly on Mitsuba, convinced the supernatural needs him, but also goes back to the promise he made with Teru.

This 'what do you want to do?' moment gives insight into a lot of relationships, but I'll only focus on what it says about Kou's view of Hanako here.

Kou is usually very sweet with Nene, but he is direct to the point of being cold here, he calls Hanako "The evil spirit of a murderer" as he had when he first met him all the way back in chap 3, It feels like an ultimatum. A judgment.

Hanako is dangerous, he needs to exorcise him. Part of him wants to exorcise Hanako. But he doesn't want to exorcise his teacher, his friend.

This brings me to his wish on the Red House.

Before talking about his wish I want to point out what his wish isn’t: Kou doesn’t want Hanako’s help, advise or support. He doesn’t want Hanako to give up on trying to help nene either, so he is still depends on Hanako's actions to save Nene to some extent, he doesn't believe he can do it himself, nor does he want the pressure of being believed.

He wants Hanako to be a problem that’s easy to deal with, an evil spirit that’s undeniably evil.

Things would be much easier if Kou could exorcise him: It would prove it to himself, teru, and Hanako that he can be an exorcist, it would eliminate any possible anxiety about what Hanako will do next, and it would give Hanako what he wants, Kou wouldn't disappoint him again.

When he pictures Hanako, he is happy and sweet looking, almost innocent. He may have decided he need to exorcise Hanako at some point, that is the right thing, but he doesn't really... want him gone.

He consistently has exorcism in mind when it comes to Hanako post-severance, but he also consistently pictures him happy and friendly. .

"I want to be a bigger help" implies he wants to work with Hanako, so the two help Nene instead of him being the sole person in charge of her lifespan, which is a big big difference from his self-destructive desperation to be the one to help Mitsuba.

"I need to get to the point where I can exorcise him." As it is, Kou does not believe he can exorcise him. He realizes he should, but also that he can't.

What he says when he fights Teru fits into that.

He doesn't agree with Hanako, and he denies the idea that he is doing this for Hanako, choosing to focus on his bond with Nene instead of his exorcism dilemma.

He and Nene have a simple camaraderie he can rely on, a mutual lack of understanding of what to do, but even this more 'safe' decision to be on her side instead of trying to keep discovering his own path got Kou the same reprimand Hanako had given him "You have big ideas but you can't back it up."

Both of the people he looks up to give him guidance told him he is useless. He can not fully relate to exorcists, or supernaturals, the path he is carving for himself, his beliefs, are unclear, easily shaken, and likely useless.

He still wants to be an exorcist, deep down, delighted when Teru gave him a chance. But he can't be an exorcist. Not when he thinks so much about the supernatural, unable to reject them but unable to truly understand or relate to them either.

It makes me sad that Aidairo pushed Kou and Hanako's situation aside, cause they still have a lot to explore, yet all we got recently is these crumbs:

Kou is keeping his eyes on Hanako, his attitude half "I am your friend, I care about you", half "I don't trust you anymore, don't scheme again, bastard" but they don't have meaningful talks with each other anymore.

Hanako will save Kou if he sees him in danger, I'm sure. And Kou will do the same. But their trust is... shaky... and they will never talk about it. Kou won't share that he wants but can't exorcise Hanako and Hanako won't share how much he values Kou. They won't seek each other for help either. Both will slowly yet consistently focus on someone else instead, like a weirdly passive attempt at detachment.

So I have no hope for more meaningful interaction between them. Not anytime soon at least... Is truly a shame.

#i know no one cares about them anymore but it's something to pass the time while the chapter is being translated... I guess #ngl I didn't go very in dept... This is half an analysis half me going 'i miss them :('#tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #hanakou #kou minamoto #minamoto kou #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #character analysis

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elysian-i · 6 months

Text

Interesting Creatures

Summary: The reader doesn’t know that Ghost and Simon Riley are one person. He finds it rather funny.

Warnings: Probably has a thousand inaccuracies. Just fluff or crack i’m not sure. Medic!Reader. Age Gap. Reader is shorter than ghost. He’s down bad but doesn’t show it. Rushed, maybe bad writing.

a/n: actually haven’t written in like a year so 🤩 that’s that. this is very short.i also love that picture of addison.

NAVIGATION

“Just saying– man seems like an interesting creature” The voice seemed to be coming from nearly a foot below him, Simon looked downwards, tilting his head and could see only a small head covered by a black hood and light blue trousers on their legs.

“Anyways– this Simon Riley, I'll get to him in a while then” She says, nodding at the officer behind the desk and turning round on her heels. She only acknowledged Simon with a nod, not giving him another glance as so many others do, as though it was an everyday thing to see a man with a skull on his face.

He pauses for a moment, because she is quite– pretty. Lovely enough to make one stop whatever preoccupied them and just admire the sight presented in front. He looks away quickly– because good god, that not who he is, he doesn't go around gawking at women, but he wants to gawk this one as long as she would let him.

She squeezes past him and leaves the office. The man on the desk grins knowingly at Simon. “Why does she know my name?” He inquires. “Well she doesn’t actually does she? Ghost and Simon are separate to her.”

“Yeah I figured” he says huffing.

“I just needed a few signatures from you, she was gonna go and get them”

“Shouldn't you call ‘er back? I’m here, might as well get it over with” He's not sure what makes him say that. Whether it was logic and reason or whether it was the urge to see that scenery again.

“I’ll save her the heart attack– for now, you'll be back her at your desk by the time she comes to it. Let’s talk jus’ now” He smiles and Simon nods, taking a seat. Behind his mask he smirks faintly, thinking just how entertaining it could be, seeing her put together the puzzle as she’d enter his office. See the look of terror in her face, it was the one thing recruits were good at anyway.

—

There is a knock at his door, it’s small, hesitant. Then there's that voice again. “May I come in?” It asks.

Come all you want he thinks to himself. But he clears his throat and tells her to come inside. The door opens and she steps in with the same attire. But she stops right as she enters, looking at him. Eyes pinching, head turning back to look at the plate drilled on the door, then she looks back at him.

"No. Uhm- no- Lieutenant Riley?"

"Yes?" he answers back, grinning ear to ear under the mask. But he withdraws any playfulness from his voice. He sighs.

"You're at the right door, I do believe I am the interesting creature."

Her little face goes blank for a moment, looking away from him and straight and the wall, she doesn't move or breathe. He notes the scrunch of her nose. Then she looks at him and smiles ever so awkwardly. Her eyes crinkling with fear still. “I - did not- that was- what? That was a compliment”

He likes that and he’s not sure why, he likes that she is flustered and bothered. And that he’s the one teasing her, he’d never been one to indulge in these sort of habits but he thinks, just this once.

“S’that so?”

She’d gone red, ears and cheeks scarlet bright, he eyes her again for a moment. His eyes fall down to her- what were those- fucking crocs? With stickers on them?

He’s amused, so amused. He notices the way she hides them away. Pushing them behind each other.

“Well, what’cha want?”

“Ah. l– need you to sign a few forms.”Her voice so much smaller than before. But she steps towards his desk and hands them over. Her hand only reaching the ends of the boards as she grips it while his own almost covers it whole.

Simon looks them over, printing his signature on them in a neat scrawl. She doesn't even look at him, her sole focus on the walls and the floors and the windows.

“You new?”

“Hmm?” She raises her brows questioningly, as though brought back from another world and carelessly brushes aside the tufts covering her pretty eyes. Her hood is down and her hair is tied into a fussed up pony tail.

“Oh- yes fairly”

He gives her a nod and goes back to reading the document. She smelt nice, he thought. There were small ripples of fragrance coming off of her. Fresh and maybe a little floral. So unlike the usual smell of dirt and dust. It was like sitting next to an open window.

After several more minutes, she speaks. “I’m sorry– that I– called ya a creature. Wasn’t nice”

She seemed to be a bad conversationalist, more so than him even. Simon dismisses her words, he only asks, “Name?”

She says it, and Simon repeats it, feeling it dance off his tongue. Beautiful sounding name for a beautiful looking person and all that. “You're a medic then?” He questions, though there’s no need to, she held that Dr. in her name with pride.

“Yes sir”

He holds her gaze for a moment. Then gives her back the forms and such. And as she begins to leave, he wraps a finger round her wrist and feels her go frozen. “Don’t go around telling my name to people. Address me only as Ghost. Got that?”

Even through his glove, he could feel the smoothness of her skin. He feels a burn go through his stomach, her wrists would fit so easily in one palm, they’d melt in it. And he knows, that it’ll never be so. Because he’s him.

"Yes sir"

And he lets go.

—

(follow @spilled-inks to get notified or sumthing)

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spectersgirl · 7 months

Note

Harvey and the reader get into an agrument (something juicy? About scottie?)at the office and she storms off.

And welcome to the perfect plot for part 2 of my mini-series! If you didn’t read part one, here it is

I didn't really proofread this too much so if you see something that doesn't make sense, no you didn't <3

This part is angst but it does have a happy ending

Something More (p2)

Harvey Specter x Reader

———

It had been six months since that first night with Harvey, and ever since then he’d been nothing short of a perfect gentleman. He made it a point to always open the car door for you, made surprise dinner reservations after secretly checking your calendar, and you frequently came into your office to find flowers, breakfast, coffee, or just little notes from him. They were little things, but they were things that no guy had ever done for you before. You never exactly announced your relationship to the office, but everyone had mostly figured out that something had been going on.

"Oooh those are pretty, I wonder who those are from" Rachel teased as she walked into your office, nodding at the rather large vase full of flowers. She knew about you and Harvey, of course.

"Check out the card, it says it's from a secret admirer" You said, handing her the card that came with the flowers.

“For the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, I am so lucky to know you” she read the card aloud. "So I take it things are still going well with you two?"

"Honestly, things are really great. I know it’s pretty early still but, I can’t help but feel like this is the real deal. We've been opening up a lot to each other, he's been really sweet." You gushed.

"That's amazing! How did it go after he told you about Scottie? I mean I don't even know how I'd react"

You were puzzled, of course you knew about Scottie, everyone in the office knew about her and Harvey’s former relationship. For Rachel to bring her up like this, something else had to have happened.

"Told me... what about Scottie exactly?"

Rachel's froze, realizing that Harvey in fact had not told you about the recent development regarding his ex-girlfriend.

"Um, she's going up against Harvey on a case. She'll be in the office this week for a deposition. I'm sorry Y/N, I really thought you knew." Rachel apologized, feeling awful she had to be the one to break the news to you.

You’d known about his history with Scottie for a while now, he’d mentioned her to you and, through the work grapevine, you’d gathered that at one time Scottie meant the world to Harvey. The logical part of your brain knew that he wouldn’t leave you to go back her, but the fact that he hid it from you that she was coming into the office, gave you a pit in your stomach anyways.

"It's ok Rachel, don't worry about it. On an unrelated note, I'm going to see Harvey. Thanks for letting me know." You said, standing and smoothing out your dress before marching down to Harvey's office.

He looked up too briefly to notice the look on your face before he spoke.

"Hey babe, sorry I didn't come see you yet today, I've just been swamped."

"So swamped you couldn't seem to find the time to tell me you have a case against Scottie?"

"Excuse me?"

"Harvey, why did I have to find out about your ex-girlfriend coming into our workplace from someone who isn't you?" You pressed further, the anger bubbling inside your chest.

The look on Harvey's face was one you'd never seen pointed in your direction before, but you weren't about to back down.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't think it mattered!" He said, raising his voice now.

"Why would you think that wouldn't matter to me? You had a serious relationship with her and she's opposing counsel on your case, that's something you should at least consider sharing with the person you're dating!"

"What exactly do you think is going to happen in that room? I have work to do during a deposition, and the last thing that would ever be on my mind is sleeping with another woman who isn't you!"

"It isn't you I don't trust Harvey! How do you not see that? I don't know this woman, how could you expect me to trust her? I know she was in love with you, and I know that things have heated up with you two during cases in the past. I don't understand how you're blaming me for feeling like this."

He sighed, clearly irritated. He focused his attention back on the paperwork he had on the desk, not even bothering to look up at you as he spoke. His voice was quieter now, but still every bit as angry.

"I can't believe you're being this insecure over something so stupid. If you can't believe me when I say that I won’t allow anything to happen between me and Scottie ever again, then maybe we shouldn’t be together after all. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not that guy, and I thought you knew me better than that." He responded coldly.

You scoffed in shock. You couldn't believe he was actually serious in turning this around on you. Your stomach turned now.

"Insecure? Right, okay. You know what, why don't you call me when you have your shit together enough to figure out why I'm angry right now, and why that was fucked up of you to say." You said loudly, turning on your heel and storming off, back to your office.

You faintly heard him call your name as you walked, but you didn’t dare turn back, and he didn't follow either.

Not two minutes after you returned to your desk, Donna was in your doorway, a sheepish look on her face.

"Donna, it wasn't your fault." You said, not giving her a chance to even blame herself.

"I know, but I should've known he hadn't told you. I told him you'd want to know, I just figured maybe he'd listen for once." She explained.

You sighed, your eyes landing on the vase of flowers from that morning. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, but you were fighting them hard.

"For what it's worth, he may be an ass but I know he cares about you, more than anyone I’ve seen him with. He can't see anyone else now that he's with you, I really wouldn't worry about Scottie. Harvey shouldn’t have said what he said to you, that was totally out of line. He’ll figure it out soon and probably come baring more flowers.”

The dam broke, and the tears fell. The hurt you still felt from Harvey’s words combined with Donna’s reassurances were too much.

"Thanks Donna" You said, sniffling.

She gave a sad smile before letting you know she had to get back to work, leaving you with a ‘hang in there’ as she departed.

You took a few deep breaths and wiped your tears before getting back to work, throwing yourself deep into your files. Maybe not the best coping mechanism, but it kept you busy enough to not think about Harvey. This worked for a little while, but slowly his harsh words would creep back into your mind, making you cry fresh tears all over again.

As time went on and the sun had long gone down, you felt your head start to pound. The time on your laptop showed 9:15 pm. You stretched a little, deciding to call it a night and head for home. It seemed that everyone else had left the office a while ago, if the silence of the halls rather than the typical hustle and bustle was any indication. The closer you got to the end of the hall, however, you heard music floating through the silence. If the office at the end of the hall belonged to anyone other than Harvey, you’d think this was the beginning of a ghost story about a haunted office building. The melody was somber. You walked forward, slower now, as you neared his office.

“Shit, why is he still here?” You thought. “He’s normally gone by 8 latest”

You stood there in the hall only inches from his door, debating on what to do. You knew he’d see you when you walked by, and even if he didn’t he would surely hear the elevator ding.

As you weighed the possible outcomes, you really had no time to react when you saw him suddenly walk out of his office, pausing too when he noticed you.

“Oh, Y/N. Hey, I was just coming to see if you were still here.”

“I was just going home.”

“Your home? Or mine?” He asked, in a tone that sounded like he didn’t want to know the answer.

You’d been sleeping at Harvey’s many nights since you started dating, in fact you weren’t even certain of the last time you’d slept in your own bed.

“Mine. After what you said to me, I don’t think I feel welcome at yours right now.”

It was only then that Harvey took in your appearance, and his heart dropped. You looked completely exhausted, the mascara on your eyes was long gone, and your cheeks and eyes were tinted red. He knew you’d been crying, and the look on his face was one of pure agony. He felt awful.

“I… Y/N I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Scottie. I just really didn’t think you’d care since I know how much I trust you. I lashed out and I yelled at you, and I shouldn't have done that. I didn’t think about your perspective, and I’m just so sorry. I never should’ve said that stuff to you" He said, slightly out of breath from his passion.

Tears openly fell from your eyes once again as you listened. You stepped forward, not responding. He reached for you, wiping the tears gently from your cheeks. You buried your face in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you firmly. He rested his chin on the top of your head, whispering how sorry he was.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly after a moment of silence.

“Please”

He didn’t waste another second before locking your lips with his. The kiss was full of longing and despair.

“I thought I lost you, and it was all my fault. I've never felt like this about anyone else, and the second I realized what I did I felt sick that I made you feel that way. I didn't know what to do.” Harvey rambled.

“Shhh, Harvey, It’s okay now. I’m right here, and I'm not going to leave you.”

He sighed in relief, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again and looking into yours.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"It helps that you're handsome." You said, a smile growing on your lips.

Harvey chuckled, placing a hand on your lower back and walking you into his office so he could grab his stuff and lead you to the elevators.

"I'd love to have you over tonight, but I understand if you're not ready."

You smiled, grabbing his hand and kissing the back of it.

"If you want me to come, then I'd love to come over"

"Good. I don't think I could've gone another minute without you"

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harvey specter x reader #suits fics #harveyspecter #angst with a happy ending #fluff

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bluginkgo · 1 month

Text

Welp, ep7 didn't kill me! ... the depression post ep might- (Theories/Rambles)

Anyways! Ep7 oh boy, it was full of surprises even for me. The animation, the intense battle scenes, everything about it was AMAZING! Of course, that's just my opinion :3 (feel free to yeet it into the stratosphere)

Get ready for word diarrhea and some shaky and loose thoughts on the ending and what may happen next. Fair warning, my theories are pretty wacky, so somethings may sound way out there. XD

Spoilers duh, oh and gore warning? Kinda?

I mean... that scary *ss mother facking thing towards the end- you know what I'm talking about if you watched the ep 😅

This puzzled me a bit, but the more I thought about it, I suppose the more it makes sense (give me a hot minute, I'm slow ok 😅).

The lockers act as a storage container for the solver drones. But what about the image from ep6? It seemed like they had free reign over the office and could come and go. Even as far as a sentinel cuddling up to Nori. But that's the thing. Later we see that Nori and Yeva were the only ones that have been the MOST successful with the absolute solver experimentation. The others, were either corrupted or were unaffected.

That means, in the time that the patches were given to the drones experimented on, was the time that they were allowed to be in the office. But as the patches and experimentation progressed, they were moved down for more security.

Soooo V. What are my thoughts on her and her whereabouts? The shot of the hall with the sentinels did not make it into the ep. Sure, it is probably fairly easy for them to get that shot. Especially if they kept the rig of the hall, throw around some sentinel bodies, and make the light go out. But this lack of V is what's making me still believe she's out there. Delusional, I know. But we don't get to see her eldrich form. This is the Absolute Solver that has been chilling in the labs, and simply recreates the hologram of all the drones it was ever a part of.

If V does not return by ep8, then I will lay her to rest properly. Until then, I'm marking her as MIA. She may be out there, she may not.

Alright, so the crucifix is also recounted as "failsafe USB (606b)" or at least that's how I see it, given the crucifix is just one fancy usb.

Now, the other time we did see the 606 was in the beginning of ep5.

wdOS_606 is basically the code that kills the drone and its core. So, effectively, that crucifix works as a kill code for the absolute solver. The timeline of events probably happened like this: Nori was showing signs of the Absolute Solver progressing much faster than any other drone the teams have worked with. One time, Nori went Absolute Solver crazy, the placement of the image that is also seen in ep6 suggests that this was the first or one of the first times Nori went rogue. The teams then decided to contain her better and suspended her by the chains, all the while waiting for the failsafe USB to be completed. At least, that was the plan. "Don't all die and almost let it out again lol. We're pretty mad but mostly scared about that." subtitle backs it up.

Now this.

This entire sequence seems rather interesting. Absolute Solver, at its best, understands emotions on logical level. Its more like a math equation for it. As in: Bad things happen = changed and more subdued personalities. But with N, I suppose it found it rather interesting to watch him. Despite all of the bad experiences he may have had, he remained his happy self. The solver even went as far as quoting him.

That type of innocence, despite the horrors he has seen and committed, most likely amused the solver. So it allowed the team to retain those personalities and traits- also knowing that it could easily get rid of them if it really wanted to.

Uzi's administration rights still hold up. It seems that in this moment, the solver attempted to completely corrupt N and have him as a mindless drone that followed orders. Buuuut Uzi's admin rights denied that, saving him from becoming the solver's puppet and being what he was back on Earth during the massacre of humans.

Eating is often referred to in this episode. Seems that I was somewhat right in regards to the Absolute Solver being the core of Copper-9 now. It has grown rather large, and taken possession of the entire planet. To maintain that, it needs sustenance. Be it in form of biological and mechanical life, or the planet itself.

So J destroyed the only means of getting off the planet, and the possibility of saving themselves or the planets for the gang- of course there's still the pod that J is using, but that will not be given up without a fight.

The issue here I have is... to whom did J give her loyalty to? Couple theories:

To Tessa- J has NO idea this is not Tessa, and is following her old boss just like in the days of the manor.

To Absolute Solver- J knows this is not Tessa, but still is loyal to it.

Issue: If number 1 is correct, then why follow through the plan with destroying the pod? It seems that was the case all along when Tessa told J to "mind her ship." Furthermore confusing to me is her comment.

Tessa: Her (Cyn) last known act was siccing you lot on other human exo-planets.

N: But why?

J: That's what we're trying to figure out, bozo.

J's line can be taken both ways. As 1- J is actually trying to figure out why Cyn is acting up. As for 2- this was simply a cover up for the whole plot.

It seems here that the drones that were previously worked on simply stayed in their lockers and their corrupted form. But that was something that made me wonder. The drones were all corrupted with the Absolute Solver to some degree. They were all given patches of the solver- some had effect and others didn't. But that still means that there were a lot of drones that had their cores corrupted and look like Heart. Here's the question.

Why didn't they simply leave? Nori's corrupted core is fully sentient, despite being possessed by the solver the most. Of course, there is the possibility that whatever Nori created in the cathedral simply took those cores and dragged them into the center. Further growing itself. Ah, well I kind of answered my own question there.

So the largest number I could count was 129 on this list. Meaning, there were at least 129 drones experimented on. Seems to follow the crazy theory I had of the Absolute Solver taking control of the core. 129 minus 2 (Nori and Yeva) cores will definitely make a great impact/engrave itself into the planet in such a way and thus manifest the corridors of flesh and hands that go all to the way to Cabin Fevers camp ground.

It also seems that the Absolute Solver, instead of being injected straight into the drones, was done in patches. Now, my knowledge in computer language and science is non-existent, but it does make me wonder. Yeva has 2.1.8 patch, while Nori was still "in progress." This either implies:

Nori had a newer patch and this was the one that caused her to go so berserk they had to restrain her in the cathedral.

Nori did not have a new patch, the one that Yeva has was the latest one and Nori simply was not faring well in the transition.

Something I noticed/finally grasped on my 3rd watch through:

Who the hell is "they?" Well, my tired brain finally decided to kick in and work. "They" were the scientists. So the crucifix was something that the humans only now figured out how to make. The kill code that would put the Absolute Solver down. That was why the Solver was on Copper-9. It needed that crucifix, so it could get rid of it. "They kept cutting my feed." Most likely referred to when the hosts would become possessed by the solver. Just as seen with Nori, the second they went crazy, it was a quick shut down, thus cutting the feed for the Absolute Solver as it tried to figure out what they were doing.

So, just as many have theorized, Nori did cause the core collapse, but not in the way that I expected it. It's rather funny that instead of this being like a full Absolute Solver possession that caused this on purpose, was simply one bad event after another. And I love the show for this. Despite having the route that the Absolute Solver could have just imploded the planet on purpose and on its own (by possessing a host), it was instead a sequence of events that is similar to humans and their downfall. Nothing orchestrated, but just a compiling effect that created one huge problematic black hole.

So this page does give some insight. The Absolute Solver sent DDs to wipe out the other solver hosts. (I'll touch on this in a different post) And the DDs were either referred to as "pets" by the Absolute Solver (which is more likely, as it called Uzi a "puppet") or a term that Nori coined. "Puppet hosts with nerfed ___ the entity-ensures control" The nerfed ___ is most likely their cores/thought process. As in, Administration CYN is what nerfed their abilities to remember anything regarding their past, and used that to control the DDs.

This was something I couldn't kind of settle with. Events wise, it can be assumed this is all happening at the same time. Just as Uzi is getting through the mine shafts and picking up the lantern, Tessa is blowing up the computer and nomming on Doll, and N is being dragged through corpse walls and being saved by Heart.

It was Doll- Although, the more I looked at this thought, the less likely this became. Doll's was intact when she came to warn Uzi, and stayed there until Tessa entity ate it towards the end of the episode. We have yet to see an instance where a core entered the Absolute Solver form and returned back to the core form without taking any damage. Specifically in J's case, the solver form was blown up and only then returned to the core form. Nothing was in the mine shafts that could have possibly injured it enough to go back to the core form and sneak back into Doll's body.

Tessa...uhh whatever the fack she is- Based off of Doll's getting attacked scene, the entity seems to have a rather quick ability in switching forms. So I wouldn't put past it that the entity attacked Doll, saw that another part of the Absolute Solver was trying to chase N down, and just went along with the rest of the solver to hunt him down.

On my first watch through, I was worried that N would go crazy from breaking rule 1 of robotics: Not to injure humans. Granted, in the first watch through, everything went so fast that I barely had any time to grasp anything. After the second watch through, it becomes quite clear and apparent. The Absolute Solver took the rules of robotics out of the DDs. I mean, how else were they supposed to attack and kill the humans back on Earth. Furthermore, Tessa was not a human. So even if N did still have the rules of robotics programmed into him, they might not have set off. Why the "might not?" Because of the sentinel. Perhaps because the sentinels were created by humans, their ai is much simpler, but when that dingo bit Tessa, it had an aneurysm. It detected blood, and thus, the ai deduced that the sentinel just injured a human and decided to alt f4 itself. Would the same happen with N? I'm not quite sure. Given that the solver programmed the DDs, it could be either instance: Take the rules out completely or enhance the rules so that blood isn't what triggers the rule breaking.

This is something that made me wonder. Did the DD trio go to any other exo-planets previously? I took this scene in two ways:

This has happened before. The solver knows that N will continue to forgive the Absolute Solver because something similar has happened before. As in, the solver is out to kill a planet, it does that, but in return sacrifices any DDs that might have been there to get rid of the potential solver hosts. The backups are booted and sent to a new planet.

This is the first time this happened, but the solver has previous experiences. Just as the solver had made N forget about his time in the mansion and the bloodbath of killing humans, it can do the same thing. Kill N, and make his backup version forget this ever happened.

This one single frame made me wonder a bit too hard. The little nulls I assumed to be miniature and contained blackholes. But then when N dove under one... there was collision? A black hole, as far as I understand (which isn't very much ;w;), is something that cannot be touched. It warps time and space, so how are you supposed to be able to touch it? But I'm quite sure my tired brain is just thinking too much about simple details.

For some odd reason, I always thought that the solver wings were more flesh, and thus couldn't take too much damage. Proven wrong again! Uzi withstood N's firing and her wings came out undamaged.

Main question for me: Why would the Absolute Solver eat the core? Specifically in drone form/possessing a host. If it was the hole that's in the cathedral, I can understand that somewhat better. But what does a solver drone gain from eating another corrupted core?

Perhaps acts as a power boost? Whatever the corrupted core can do, the powers are transfered uhh... somehow?

Simply sustenance, and a way to get rid of Heart, you're thinking too deep into this Ginkgo (more likely option) Plus, backed up by Tessa entity eating Doll's core and being unaffected. Perhaps it just remains in the body as a source of energy.

IC-0n IS THAT YOU?! XD But in all seriousness, this scene was intense. The animation, the music and sound effects, the lines, everything was executed perfectly and created the monstrosity that may or may not haunt my nightmare tonight :3

My first thought was, "OH YOU! YOU FINALLY SHOWED UP! ...... GO AWAY!" This entity... uh I'm not quite sure what to call it yet, has been teased all the way back to the poster. And I would like to bring back something I said a bit while back. "What if the double x'ed character is someone we already know... but is dead? A character that is confirmed/somewhat confirmed to be dead can return back to life, and their body forced to move by the absolute solver." (I will be delving deeper into debunking this in another post.) Welp, that does it. I had the idea, just didn't know who the fack it was. XD So we get a drone, wearing Tessa's skin.

In hindsight, there was a big fat foreshadowing that I took for granted. This thing.

The drone body is a WD, and clear as day 1001 written on the core. What does it mean? Ah well, I'm actually not too sure. Going with the 002, 048, 029, etc. numbers, I can only assume 1001 is something the Absolute Solver made and gave it that number, possibly suggesting that there is more of these monstrosities out there.

So. Another "sacrifice." Why the quotation marks? Well... the first "sacrifice" was V and I'm still calling her MIA. Ginkgo, its clearly shown Uzi is most likely not gonna make it out of this one- shhhhhhhh, there is no war in Ba Sing Se. I will call Uzi MIA as well.

She's dead. The core was charging up behind her, much like it did when Nori's null hand fell, and when IC-0n- I MEAN- Tessa? The entity, jumped in. Uzi might just be the thing that sets the next core collapse- even the planet collapse- off. What Uzi is seeing, is just something that the Absolute Solver might have conjured up as her last memories before the imminent shut down.

She isn't dead. You see, this entire shot has me puzzled (nothing new lol). Your evidence for this one Ginkgo? Two images.

These scenes might not be much, but I will try to grasp at air here. It's unclear where Heart goes to. I mean there are two routes, one of which sounds more likely. First, she's going into the core because it connects to the entirety of the mine shafts and the core. Second, she's gonna use a door off to the side to go to the mine shafts and the same place that N gets dragged through. Why am I using these as poor evidence? Well, we've had 2 characters enter dark spaces full fo solver flesh and still make it out. Ginkgo, Uzi is literally falling in that scene, there is nothing to stop her fall. Yeah I know, like I said, I'm grasping at air with this one. Buuuut, the mind scape theories sound more fun, promise! ^w^

First off, where the HELL could this possibly be?

A memory/mind scape the Absolute Solver created: This has to be Copper-9, based off of the two iconic moons to the top right. A memory, because this could be either the first core collapse, or Uzi viewing the destruction of Copper-9 from another solver entity's point of view. Mind scape as in this is where the solver drone minds go to. Every solver drone that has been consumed by the large Absolute Solver in the cathedral, had their own personalities and thoughts. To keep them all from clashing and acting out, perhaps the solver takes the hive-mind plane and creates spaces that the solver drones can warp through.

The "ascension" plane: Ginkgo, that's it, to the hospital you go chop chop. /j Anyways, why am I even bringing something like this up? Well, Uzi's mural says this.

There are two routes here: succumb to be the host of eternal entity, or ascend. Ascend to... where? And how? Here is where the more intense crack theories enter (or at least for me). This space is the hive-mind of the solver, yes, but this is where Uzi's internal battle against the Absolute Solver will happen. We all know that the last mural will be of N fighting off the Absolute Solver (most likely). But what if he had outside (inside technically?) help. While N may hold out against the solver, he may need help to finally break through and finish it off. Who would be a better candidate than Uzi? She has now, for better or worse, become part of the large amalgamation that sits in the core. Perhaps with the strongest hosts in the hive-mind: Uzi, Nori, Yeva (maybe, I'm not quite settled on her yet), and Cyn, they will all be able to stop the solver for good on Copper-9. This process is the ascension. Instead of succumbing to the Absolute Solver within the hive-mind scape, she will fight once again. This time around, coming out victorious and ascending to uhh... I'm not quite sure yet? Robo-heaven? Returning back into her corporal body? Becoming the next Absolute Solver but with less need to rule the world? (Ah, well she might still actually rule the world just for the fun of it XD) Honestly, it's far too late for me to be thinking any more. I might add on to this later on.

Is it a rather optimistic take on the ending? Perhaps, but I need a little optimism right about now. ;w;

Want more of my stupid rambles? This has 3 other parts! ;w;

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