#he is a machine made to fulfill a purpose

[crabsnpersimmons]

thanks @random-tail and @enamoredfey for the questions! i'll let Sun himself answer:

long-story short, Sun doesn’t believe he has emotions since he is a robot 😔

of course, he sees Moon and Eclipse emote all the time. he usually attributes it to Moon being a fool (believing he is something he's not) and Eclipse being manipulative (given that he was originally built for the theater)

but there is a part of him that wonders if he is missing something—he just doesn’t understand what that is

Note: i should also mention, his voice is almost completely monotone. the closet idea of a voice claim for this Sun is Greg Chun's voice for Lukas from Fire Emblem Echoes—fairly even in tone, somewhat soft

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

hmm liu bang being a verified member of the baby-tosser's club is not as cut and dried as i thought, apparently it's only mentioned in xiang yu's biography but is omitted in his. that's a conflict of interest if i've ever seen it. that being said, u gotta admit nothing about han gaozu make this seem at all out of character for him.

[pucksandpower]

That’s That Me, Espresso

Charles Leclerc x barista!Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen seem determined to fight over the heart of their favorite barista … but soon they learn that sharing can be much more fulfilling

Warnings: 18+ content

You tie the green apron around your waist, smoothing out the wrinkles as you get ready for another day behind the counter. Working as a barista in the paddock club is not where you imagined you’d end up, but it pays the bills. And there are some nice perks — like getting to see the drivers up close when they come in for their daily coffee fix.

Two drivers in particular have caught your attention recently: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen.

They started coming in separately a few weeks ago, always ordering the same drink — a latte with an extra shot of espresso for Charles and black coffee for Max. At first it was just polite small talk as you made their drinks, but gradually you’ve gotten to know them both a bit better.

Charles is charming, with an easy smile and a quick wit. He asks you about your day and remembers little details you’ve told him before. Max is more reserved, but has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh. You find yourself looking forward to their visits, wondering when you’ll see them next.

It’s another race weekend and the paddock club is buzzing with activity. You’re kept busy with a steady stream of drinks orders. A loud group of sponsors clusters around your counter, loudly debating team strategies. You handle their complicated orders, foaming milk and steaming pitchers like a pro.

As you hand off the last drink, you look up and see Charles walking in. He locks eyes with you and grins.

“Busy today, I see,” he says, sidling up to the counter.

“The usual?” You ask with a smile. Charles nods.

You turn to make his latte, hyperaware of his gaze following you. The espresso machine hisses as you pull his shots. You take your time with the milk, adjusting the froth just so.

“Here you go,” you say, placing the latte in front of him with a flourish. Your fingers brush as he takes it from you. Was that accidental or on purpose? His eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Looks perfect. You always make it just how I like it.” Charles takes a long sip, foam coating his upper lip. He swipes it away with his thumb. “Delicious. I don’t know how I’d get through race day without this.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment. Before you can respond, Max walks up to the counter, focused on his phone. He glances up, does a slight double take at seeing Charles already there, then looks back at you.

“Morning,” he says briskly. “The usual, please.”

You nod and turn to make Max’s black coffee. As the coffee drips into the paper cup, you feel the awkward tension behind you. Charles and Max eye each other warily, a silent stand-off you don’t understand. You glance between them nervously as you hand Max his coffee.

“There you go. Enjoy!” Your voice comes out too bright and cheery.

Max takes the coffee without looking away from Charles. “Thanks,” he mutters. They keep staring at each other for a beat too long before Charles clears his throat.

“Well, I should get going. See you around,” he says lightly, with a meaningful look at you.

You nod, perplexed. As soon as Charles is out the door, Max seems to relax.

“So how’s your morning been so far?” He asks, taking a sip of coffee.

You make polite small talk, but your mind keeps going back to the weird tension between him and Charles. What was all that about?

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of foamed milk and espresso. Before you know it, it’s nearly closing time. You’re wiping down the counters when you hear footsteps approach. You look up to see both Charles and Max walking toward you, stopping short when they notice each other.

“You again?” Max frowns at Charles. “Does Ferrari not have their own coffee?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Charles shoots back. He turns to you with an easy grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The usual, please?”

You nod uncertainly and set to work making their drinks on autopilot, feeling the heavy weight of them watching your every move. The silence hangs heavy in the air. You can feel the animosity rolling off them in waves.

You finish the drinks and set them on the counter. “Here you go.”

Neither makes a move to take their coffee. The tension coils tighter. You glance between them nervously.

Finally Max turns to Charles. “Why do you keep coming here for coffee? Don’t tell me it’s for the scintillating conversation.”

Charles bristles. “Why do you care where I get my coffee? Unless ...” His eyes narrow. “Are you trying to keep me away from something? Or should I say, someone?”

You freeze. Are they talking about you?

Max scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to get my daily coffee in peace.”

“Oh really? You seem to be going out of your way when you could easily get coffee from Red Bull hospitality. Admit it, there’s another reason you keep coming here.” Charles crosses his arms.

“I could say the same about you! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you flirting with her every time you’re in here.”

You nearly drop the rag in your hand. Heat floods your cheeks. They are talking about you.

Charles laughs sharply. “Look who’s talking! The man who makes eyes at her whenever you think I’m not looking.”

“Makes eyes-” Max sputters. “You’re delusional.”

“No, you’re just blind. Anyone can see she likes me better.”

“As if! She obviously prefers me over some pretty boy.”

They’re nearly nose to nose now, fists clenched at their sides. You stand frozen behind the counter, heart hammering in your chest. This can’t be happening.

“Why don’t we let her decide then?” Charles turns to you. “What do you say? Want to settle this once and for all?”

Max whips his head toward you eagerly. You open your mouth but no words come out.

Charles barrels on. “You don’t have to say it out loud. I already know the answer.” He winks at you.

Max makes a disgusted noise. “Don’t listen to him. He’s so full of himself.”

“Better than being full of overhyped energy drinks and bad decisions like you!” Charles shoves Max’s shoulder.

A flicker of rage passes over Max’s face. He shoves back, hard. “Watch yourself, Leclerc.”

Charles stumbles into the counter, jostling your arm. You cry out as the steaming pitcher of milk spills down the front of your apron. Pain scalds your skin. You inhale sharply as the hot milk soaks through your shirt.

Charles grabs a damp dish towel and presses it to your arm. “Let me see.”

You lift the cloth with a wince. An angry red welt is already rising along your forearm.

“That looks bad,” Charles murmurs. “You should get it treated properly.”

Max edges closer, brows drawn together. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry-”

“She needs medical attention,” Charles interrupts. He takes your elbow gingerly. “Come on, I’ll take you to the medical center.”

Max puts a hand on your other arm. “No, I’ll take her. This is my fault.”

Charles tugs you toward him. “Back off, Verstappen. I’ve got this.”

You stumble between them as they play tug-of-war with your arms.

“Stop it!” You cry, wrenching away. They freeze. “You can both take me or I’ll go myself. But I am not a rope in a game of Red Bull versus Ferrari.”

Charles and Max have the decency to look ashamed.

“Of course, sorry,” Charles says quickly. “We’ll take you together.”

Max nods, biting his lip. You follow them from the paddock club to the medical center, cradling your arm. Mercifully they stay silent, the fight drained from them for now.

The medic clucks over your injury, applying a cooling gel and clean bandages. You sag in relief as the medicine soothes the burning. Charles and Max hover anxiously until the medic shoos them away.

“All done,” she announces. “Keep it clean and covered. Should heal in a few days.”

“Thank you.” You slide off the exam table, flexing your freshly wrapped arm.

Charles jumps up immediately. “How’s it feeling now?”

“Much better, thanks.” You offer him a small smile.

Max steps forward. “I’m really sorry about this. Let me make it up to you — can I take you to dinner tonight?”

Charles makes a strangled noise. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think?” He turns to you, expression earnest. “Please, allow me to take you to dinner instead. It’s the least I can do after you got hurt.”

You stare between them incredulously. Are they serious?

“Um, I don’t think-”

“Come on, what do you say?” Max presses. “Dinner, just the two of us.”

Charles crosses his arms. “Don’t listen to him. Let me take you out.”

“You already ruined her day,” Max snaps. “I’m not letting you mess up her evening too.”

Charles bristles. “If anyone ruined it, you did by shoving me into her!”

“I wouldn’t have shoved you if you weren’t being an annoying prick.”

“Obstinate show off!”

“Insecure brat!”

“Enough!” You yell. They fall silent. “This is absurd. You’re both acting like children.”

Charles scuffs his shoe. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Max nods, properly chastised. “Me too. That was stupid.”

You take a deep breath. “If you really want to make it up to me, we’ll do this: you can both take me to dinner. Together. To apologize. Take it or leave it.”

They share an uneasy look but don’t argue. You nod firmly.

“Good. I’ll be outside the paddock club after the race. Come get me then.” You fix them with a stern gaze. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. No fighting, no bickering. Got it?”

“Got it,” they mumble.

“See you tonight then.” With as much dignity as you can muster, you turn and sweep out of the medical center. You feel their eyes following you as the doors swing shut.

Your breath leaves in a whoosh when you’re alone again. What did you just get yourself into? A tense conciliatory dinner with two drivers who happen to hate each other? This night can only end in disaster.

But a small part of you tingles with excitement at the thought of having their undivided attention, if only for an evening. You push the feeling away. Don’t be foolish. This is just about apologizing for the coffee incident. Nothing more.

***

After the race, you freshen up and change into a flowy summer dress. As you apply a final coat of lipstick, nerves flutter in your stomach. This dinner will either go surprisingly well or be a total disaster.

With Charles and Max, it’s anyone’s guess.

Your pulse picks up when you exit the paddock club to see Charles and Max waiting, wearing nice button downs and trading murderous looks.

But as soon as they notice you, their faces morph into charming smiles. Charles steps forward first, eyes bright.

“You look beautiful,” he says, kissing your cheek in greeting. The press of his lips sends a thrill through you despite yourself.

Max moves closer, expression soft. “That dress is perfect on you.”

You thank them, trying not to blush. Max gestures to the row of sleek sports cars. “Shall we?”

Charles frowns. “She should ride with me, I asked her to dinner first.”

Max scoffs. “Only because you swooped in when you saw I was going to.”

“As if! I was being a gentleman, unlike you.”

They descend into bickering while you stand there awkwardly. Finally you interject.

“Or here’s a thought — how about we take an Uber together?”

Charles and Max stop arguing, properly chastised. “Of course, good idea,” Charles says smoothly.

You all pile into the back of the Uber, you wedged between them. Their thighs press against yours, muscular and distracting. Get it together, you scold yourself. This is just an apology dinner.

At the restaurant, Max holds your chair out while Charles arranges your napkin on your lap. Their efforts to dote on you would be sweet if they weren’t also trying to outdo each other. You settle in for an interesting night.

A waiter appears to take your order. Charles recommends the osso buco. Max argues the sea bass is better. You go for the risotto to avoid playing favorites.

When the food arrives, Charles insists on serving you first. “Try this, the sauce is exquisite,” he purrs, holding a forkful to your lips.

You let him feed you, hyperaware of Max watching hawkishly. “Delicious, thank you.”

Not to be outdone, Max spears a bite of his fish. “Here, you have to taste this.” He brings the fork to your mouth. You oblige, cheeks burning.

This continues through the whole meal. Charles and Max take turns hand feeding you, vying for your attention. Under different circumstances it would feel romantic, but their competitive edge ruins the mood.

Still, you have to admit the food is incredible. Charles was right about the osso buco. When your risotto is gone, he happily shares his plate. Max pushes his closer too, until you’re stuffed on bites of their entrees.

For dessert they order chocolate soufflé to share. Two forks battle for the privilege of feeding you. You finally snatch the dish between you, laughing.

“I think I can manage on my own now, thanks.”

Charles sits back with a rueful smile. “Sorry, got a bit carried away there.”

“We just want you to enjoy the food,” Max adds a touch sheepishly.

You take a bite and sigh blissfully. “Mission accomplished, trust me.”

Despite their antics, you’re surprised to realize you’re having a nice time. When Charles and Max aren’t competing over you, they’re charming dinner companions, trading funny racing stories and debating controversial penalties. You find yourself relaxing, giggling often at their witty banter.

Over digestifs, the mood shifts. The low lighting makes Charles’ gaze smolder. Max’s hand brushes your knee under the table. You shift, heart rate kicking up.

The bill comes and Charles snags it before Max can react. “Please, allow me.”

You start to protest but Max speaks up. “I guess I’ll get the next one then.”

The implication makes your pulse flutter. Next one?

Outside the restaurant, Charles offers his arm. “Let’s go somewhere more private to continue the evening.” His eyes glitter with promise.

You hesitate, feeling suddenly shy. Max steps closer.

“Don’t listen to him, he just wants you alone. Come out with me instead and I’ll show you a good time.”

He waggles his eyebrows. You blush fiercely as their suggestive stares make you squirm.

Charles drops your arm, scowling. “Back off, Verstappen. She’s coming with me.”

“She can make her own choices,” Max retorts. “But she’d clearly have more fun with me.”

Their flirting turns sour as they descend into bickering again. You clench your fists, frustration bubbling over.

“Enough!” You burst out. “I’m done being fought over like a trophy.”

Charles and Max stop arguing, looking properly scolded. You take a deep breath.

“My hotel is just around the corner. You’re both welcome to join me for a nightcap. But you need to stop this childish fighting or you can go back to your own rooms.”

They share an uneasy glance, then nod. “You’re right, sorry about that,” Charles says. “Lead the way.”

Max just gestures for you to walk ahead. You turn towards your hotel, nerves and anticipation swirling. A nightcap is harmless, you tell yourself. You’re just putting your foot down about their behavior.

At the hotel bar, you order a round of drinks and claim a small corner booth. Charles and Max slide in on either side of you. Their thighs press against yours under the tiny table.

You take a fortifying sip of your cocktail. “Okay look, tonight has been … fun, surprisingly. But the constant competing over me has to stop.”

You level them with your most serious gaze. They have the grace to look embarrassed.

“You’re right, that wasn’t fair to you,” Charles says earnestly. “I got carried away trying to, I don’t know, impress you, I guess. I’ll be more respectful from now on.”

Max clears his throat. “Yeah, me too. Didn’t mean to make you feel like a prize. I just ...” He ducks his head. “Really wanted you to like me.”

Your breath catches at the endearing admission. You place a hand over Max’s where it rests on his thigh. “I do like you. Both of you. When you’re not acting like idiots.”

Charles covers your other hand, expression softening. “I like you too. So much.”

Warmth spreads through you at their words. For a moment, you all just smile at each other, the atmosphere shifting into something … intimate.

The air suddenly feels charged with possibility. You wet your lips nervously. Two sets of eyes track the movement.

Charles moves his thumb in a slow sweep over the back of your hand, stirring up butterflies. “I’d really like to kiss you right now,” he murmurs. “If that’s okay.”

Your heartbeat stutters. You glance at Max. His eyes are dark, lips parted. Waiting for your answer.

You close the distance to Charles in response, pressing your mouth to his. He makes a soft sound and cups your jaw, kissing you back eagerly. His lips are soft and seeking.

When you part for air, Max clears his throat. “I believe you said no more competing tonight. So it’s my turn now.”

Before you can react, he captures your lips in a searing kiss. He kisses differently than Charles, more urgently, with the promise of heat. You grasp his shoulders to stay grounded.

You break away gasping. The three of you stare at each other, wide eyed and flushed.

Charles recovers first. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?” His expression leaves no doubt as to his meaning.

A spike of want goes through you. But uncertainty flickers too. Are you really ready for … all that? With both of them?

Sensing your hesitation, Max squeezes your hand. “Or we could just keep talking, if you’d prefer?” His tone is serious despite the desire in his eyes. “No pressure, okay?”

Charles nods, looking equally willing to follow your lead. You smile, grateful for their patience. As tempting as it is to fall into bed together, that feels rushed.

“Why don’t we have one more drink upstairs and see where things go?” You suggest.

“I’d love that,” Charles says.

Max signals the waiter for your tab. “Your room or one of ours?”

You laugh at his eagerness. “Mine. I have the key.”

***

In the elevator up to your hotel room, the air feels charged with possibility. Charles pins you to the wall, nuzzling your neck in a way that makes you shiver. Max crowds behind you, hands spanning your waist. You feel surrounded, but also safe between them.

At your door, Charles steals one more heated kiss before you unlock it. His eyes are dark with want when he pulls back. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

Max’s breath tickles your ear. “My turn now.” His low voice sends desire swirling through you.

You lead them inside, nerves and excitement making you giddy. Max pulls you into his arms immediately, kissing you deeply. Charles comes up behind you, trailing kisses down your neck in tandem with Max’s exploring tongue. You clutch their shirts, anchored between them.

When you part for air, Charles suggests opening a bottle of wine from the minibar. You nod, needing to steady your spinning head.

While Charles uncorks a bottle of red, Max comes up behind you, nuzzling your hair. “That dress looks amazing on you, but I bet it would look even better on the floor,” he murmurs suggestively.

You blush even as arousal stirs. But Charles interrupts before you can respond.

“Don’t be crude, Max,” he chides, handing you a glass of wine. His fingers linger on yours. “She deserves to be treated with respect.”

Max rolls his eyes. “I was complimenting her, not being crude.”

“It came off as objectifying. I know how to properly appreciate a woman.” Charles strokes your arm lightly, eyes smoldering.

Here we go again, you think. But Max just laughs.

“Oh it’s on now, Leclerc. We’ll see who can make her feel more … appreciated.” He waggles his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your wine. “Um, I’m not sure this competition is necessary-”

“Shh, just relax, mon amour. Let us take care of you.” Charles silences you with a deep kiss, stealing your breath.

Max comes up behind you, trailing hot kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands find your waist, pulling you back against him.

You’re surrounded by them, enveloped in wandering hands and seeking mouths. It’s overwhelming but intoxicating. You let yourself get lost in the sensations.

Charles lavishes attention on your neck, hitting sensitive spots that make you shiver. When he finds one that makes you moan, Max focuses on the same area until your knees go weak.

They maneuver you to the bed, shedding jackets and shoes along the way. Charles presses you back into the pillows, kissing you deeply as his fingers trail up your leg, rucking your dress higher.

Max pushes himself between your parted thighs, kissing along your inner leg. You grasp their hair, anchoring yourself.

“You’re both trying to kill me, I swear,” you gasp out.

Charles smiles against your neck. “On the contrary, we’re trying to make you feel as alive as possible.”

As if to prove it, Max hitches one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses along your inner thigh, making you squirm.

“Tell me what you want, cherié. I’m yours tonight,” Charles breathes in your ear.

You drag him down for a messy kiss. He groans as you press up into him.

Max works his way higher until his breath ghosts over your core. Your whole body tightens in anticipation.

“Can I taste you?” His voice is rough with need. “I want to make you feel so good, lekker ding.”

You nod frantically and he hooks his fingers under your underwear, sliding them off. The first touch of his tongue makes you cry out.

Charles swallows the sound, kissing you deeply. “That’s it, let go. We’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by sensations, you can only clutch their hair and let yourself be carried away on waves of pleasure.

You lose track of time, of everything beyond their mouths and hands worshipping every inch of you. When Max finally has you teetering on the edge, he pulls back right before you tip over.

“Not yet. I want you to come with me inside you.”

The primal promise sends a bolt of need through you. Charles props himself up, pupils blown wide. “God, that’s hot.” His erection presses insistently against your hip. “But condoms first. I’ll grab some.”

While he digs through his wallet, Max strips you both bare. You run appreciative hands over his chiseled physique, anticipating having him inside you. But uncertainty flickers too.

“Have you … done this before?” You ask hesitantly. “With another guy, I mean?”

Max stills. “I haven’t. Have you?” At your head shake, he relaxes. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Reassured, you pull him down for a messy kiss. Charles rejoins you on the bed, rolling a condom onto Max.

“All set.” He kisses you lingeringly. “If you want to stop at any point, just say the word.”

You smile at his caretaking. “I’ll be vocal if I need you to stop or slow down, don’t worry.”

Max lines himself up at your entrance, holding your gaze. “You ready?”

At your eager nod, he pushes inside you in one long stroke. You arch up with a cry at the delicious stretch of him filling you so perfectly.

Charles lavishes kisses over your face and neck murmuring praise. “That’s it, you’re doing so well. You look incredible like this, taking him so beautifully.”

Max builds a steady rhythm, fucking into you almost leisurely, stoking the fire higher. “You feel incredible, so hot and tight around me.” He hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

Charles sheds his own clothes and rolls on a condom, eyes fixed on where you’re joined. “You two are so fucking gorgeous together. Makes me want a turn.”

“Yes, please,” you gasp out. You need them both tonight.

Max slows to shallow pumps, letting Charles take his place between your legs. He pushes in slowly and your body opens for him, welcoming the new stretch.

Charles curses breathlessly at your tight heat engulfing him. “You’re unbelievable. I could stay buried in you forever.”

He sets a steady pace while Max kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. Having them both lavish you with such dedicated attention pushes you close to the edge again.

“Want to come with you around me,” Charles pants out. “Can I make you come, ma belle?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close-” you cry out as he reaches between you to stroke your clit.

The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp cry. Your inner walls pulse around Charles, pulling him over with you.

You cling to each other, breathing hard as you come down. Charles presses soft kisses over your face while Max smoothes back your hair.

“You’re incredible. How was that?” Charles asks gently once he catches his breath.

You huff out a giddy laugh. “Absolutely amazing.” You cup his cheek. “Both of you.”

Max smiles and kisses you sweetly. “I’m not done with you yet tonight.”

Anticipation sparks through you again. “Oh really?”

He licks his lips. “I want another taste of dessert.”

Charles nips your ear playfully. “And I want a round two with you. We’re just getting started.”

The promise in their heated looks makes your spent body begin to reawaken. You stretch like a cat between them.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?”

They pounce on you eagerly, hands and mouths roaming your sensitised skin. You surrender to their passionate attentions, mind blissfully blank of everything but pleasure.

Later, they lay you between them, bodies spent and entwined. Sleep tugs at the edges of your sated mind.

Charles nuzzles your shoulder. “Rest now, mon ange. You were perfect.”

Max pulls the blankets over you and presses a kiss to your hair. “We’re right here with you.”

Wrapped securely in their arms, you let yourself drift off, a contented smile on your face. Tonight was exactly what you needed — no more fighting or competing, just pure connection.

As you fall asleep cocooned between your two gorgeous drivers, you can’t imagine a more satisfying way to end the craziest day of your life.

***

The morning after the blissful night with Charles and Max, you wake up alone in tangled sheets. For a moment you wonder if it was just a dream. Then you spot a note on the bedside table.

Had early commitments but can’t stop thinking about you. See you at the paddock club soon - C & M

You grin and fall back against the pillows. Last night definitely happened. And based on that note, they’re already eager for a repeat. Happiness bubbles up in you.

Over the next few days, you text constantly with Charles and Max. They check on how you’re feeling (sore but satiated) and send increasingly flirty selfies that make you blush. The texts grow more suggestive as the next race weekend nears.

Can’t wait to get my hands on you again. I’ll sneak you off somewhere the minute I see you

I call dibs on stealing her away this time! We have some unfinished business

You smile at your phone, butterflies taking flight. You have a feeling this race weekend will be anything but routine.

Friday morning you show up early to prep the paddock club cafe. As the bustle of the weekend ramps up outside, your pulse quickens wondering if you’ll see Charles or Max first.

A gaggle of mechanics come in, followed by Fred Vasseur and Toto Wolff bickering over coffees. No sign of your drivers yet.

Finally Charles saunters in, sweaty from practice and still in his red race suit. His face lights up when he sees you.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans across the counter for a swift, burning kiss. “I missed you.”

You blush fiercely as hoots and whistles sound from the patrons. Charles just winks.

“The usual?” You ask, ducking to hide your glowing cheeks.

“Please. I need my favorite barista’s coffee to get through the day.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you work, warm and admiring. It makes your skin tingle.

As Charles collects his coffee, he murmurs low in your ear, “Dinner tonight? I want you all to myself.”

His steely gaze leaves no doubt as to his intentions. You shiver and nod eagerly.

“Here?”

“I was thinking your hotel bed again ...” His fingers graze your wrist suggestively.

Your breath catches. Before you can respond, Max strides up to the counter.

“Morning.” He gives Charles an unreadable look then smiles at you. “I’ll take my usual.”

He watches you work with a little smile playing about his lips, occasionally trading glances with Charles. They seem … chummy, almost conspiratorial.

You hand Max his coffee, brow arched. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something with you two?”

Max grins. “Let’s just say Charles and I … bonded recently over a mutual interest.” His meaningful look makes your cheeks flame.

“Oh really now?” You ask coyly.

“Really.” Charles slings an arm around Max’s shoulders. “We’ve discovered some shared enthusiasms lately.”

They smirk at each other and you have to fan yourself. If this new camaraderie is the result of your tryst, you heartily approve.

Over the rest of Friday you spot Charles and Max hanging out often, laughing together. The other drivers eye them curiously but they just share secret smiles.

In the media pen after practice, a reporter asks about their burgeoning bromance.

“I guess you could say we recently discovered some common ground that brought us closer,” Charles says vaguely.

Beside him, Max shrugs. “Let’s just say our relationship has … matured lately.”

They grin at the innuendo. You nearly spit out your drink watching the live feed, their slyness making you squirm. So much for discretion.

As promised, Charles takes you to dinner that night. In the car, he pulls you across the console for a heated kiss.

“Thought about doing this all day,” he growls against your lips.

At your hotel, clothes are hastily shed as you fall into bed together. Charles takes you apart ruthlessly, until you’re trembling and spent beneath him.

After, he gathers you close, nuzzling your hair. “I don’t know what hold you have over me, but I can’t get enough.”

You smile and kiss him lazily. “Right back at you. I could get used to this.”

Charles’ eyes darken. “Speaking of, Max was suggesting we all get together again before the race ...”

Tomorrow night is wide open in your schedule.

***

The next day buzzes by until Charles and Max finish their media duties. They saunter into the paddock club wearing matching smirks.

“Time for that break you promised us,” Max says, crowding you against the counter.

Charles nips your ear. “We’ll make it worth your while.” His hot promise makes you instantly pliant.

They lead you outside hand in hand, sneaking glances around until you reach the Ferrari motorhome. Inside Charles’ driver’s room, he pins you to the leather couch, kissing you ravenously.

Clothes melt away between heated kisses and grasping hands. Soon you’re naked on the couch, framed by Charles and Max’s toned bodies.

Charles trails kisses down between your breasts, laving his tongue over a nipple until you arch up with a cry.

“Sensitive here I see,” he murmurs smugly before redirecting his attention. You grasp his messy waves, overwhelmed.

Max slides a hand up your inner thigh, eyes blazing when he discovers you bare. “So wet already. I think she likes us teasing her, Charles.”

A thick finger slides through your folds and you gasp out his name. Chuckling darkly, Max repeats the motion until you’re rocking your hips desperately.

“Please … need you ...” you whimper.

He smirks. “How can I deny such a sweet request?”

Charles sits back to enjoy the show as Max lines up at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, groaning as your body opens to welcome his thick length. You clutch his shoulders, overwhelmed.

“Fuck, feel so perfect around me,” he grits out through clenched teeth, seated fully inside you. “You good?”

You nod frantically. No matter how many times you come together, that first blissful stretch when he fills you never gets old.

Charles strokes himself lazily, eyes fixed on where you’re joined. “God, that’s hot to watch. Starting to think we should share you more often if this is what I get to see.”

Max builds a relentless rhythm, spurred on by Charles’ avid stare. You grasp the leather couch, crying out with every deep stroke nudging that sweet spot inside.

“Look at those pretty tits bounce while you fuck her,” Charles rasps out. “You close, ma belle? I want to watch you come undone around him.”

That heated plea sends you over, clenching on Max’s length as pleasure crashes over you. He fucks you through it before chasing his own high.

“Want to feel you come in me,” you gasp out.

Groaning your name, Max pulls you tight and shudders his release inside you. He collapses forward, breathing ragged.

“Holy fuck that was intense,” he mutters, kissing you sloppily. You cling together, spent and grinning.

Until Charles clears his throat loudly. “Looked like fun but I believe you promised to share, Max.”

Unfurling from you, Max laughs. “All yours, mate. But only after I get one more taste.”

To your delight, he seals his lips over your swollen clit without warning, sucking firmly. The stimulation on your over-sensitized nerves straddles the line between pleasure and pain until you’re thrashing and begging.

Finally Max releases you with one last lick and a wolfish grin. “Had to have another hit of that sweetness.”

You can only whimper as Charles immediately replaces him between your legs. He kisses up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, eyes blazing.

“Please tell me you have another round in you, cherié. Because watching that made me very eager to play.”

As he pushes inside you in one long stroke, you clutch his back deliriously. Charles wastes no time building a ruthless rhythm, spurred on by watching you fall apart with Max. His thick length drags along your sensitive inner walls, wringing gasps and cries from you with every snap of his hips.

“That’s it, sing for me,” he grits out, angling to nudge against that sweet spot inside you. “Want the whole paddock to hear how good I can make you feel.”

You grasp his biceps, feeling his muscles flex powerfully with each pounding stroke. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the room.

Charles snakes a hand between you, finding your throbbing clit and stroking in time with his deep thrusts. The sensations make you see stars, still so sensitive from Max’s attentions.

“Oh god, right there,” you sob, teetering dangerously on the edge again. “Gonna come ...”

“Look at me,” Charles commands sharply. You drag your eyes open to meet his burning gaze. “Come for me now.”

On cue your body seizes up, inner walls clamping down hard as a shockwave of pleasure crashes through you. You cry out Charles’ name hoarsely, barely hearing his own bitten off groan as he follows you over the edge.

Collapsing forward, Charles peppers your face with tender kisses as you cling together, panting through the aftershocks.

“Magnificent as always, mon amour,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck.

You comb lazy fingers through his hair, body coursing with endorphins. “Mmm. Pretty sure you two are going to kill me with great sex at this point, but I can’t bring myself to complain.”

Max’s laughter warms your skin as he slides up behind you. He trails a hand down your side, eyes glinting. “Oh we’re nowhere close to done with you yet ...”

[astral-herald]

Uncritically Enjoying Mage Viktor

sometimes when i turn off my angry (logical) brain, i achieve some very sentimental mage viktor clarity that i would like to share <3

this is a lot different from my other Thoughtful "Analysis" Posts. my plan is as follows: address my understanding, slim though it may be, of mage viktor; bullet-point all the less than critical/theory driven reasons why he makes me happy; make a somewhat melodramatic point about reading/viewing for fulfillment over critique. mage-tor enjoyers, unite!

What is Mage Viktor's Purpose?

Try as I might to turn off my thoughtfulness, I am typically critical of the media I enjoy, so I'll be among the first to admit that Mage Viktor was certainly a retcon. That seems to be the fandom consensus, so I won't reiterate too much on that point. It makes shots like this especially funny, though, because that is simply not the Viktor we know, interdimensional or otherwise:

But something I would like to push back on is a pervasive "favorable" read on Mage Viktor as we come to know him in season 2. I fully disagree with the idea that Mage Viktor sought Jayce out in every timeline because he loved Jayce, rather than as a means of saving the countless innocents Viktor in other timelines would inevitably kill thanks to Hextech, the Glorious Evolution, etc. Hear me out for a second!

Bestie @arowyn-m pointed out to me that Necrit confirmed that Hextech is THE canonical event, the linchpin, so to speak, that ignites the chain of events we see culminate in season 2. These are the same events that Mage Viktor seeks to prevent. It takes however many lifetimes and iterations of mass destruction for Mage Viktor to gather two vital facts about the universe: Hextech is the inciting, inevitable incident, and Jayce is the complementary indelible constant. Hextech is inevitable, but only Jayce can show Viktor how to stop it.

Viktor's love for Jayce is not what motivates Mage Viktor to seek him out - it is the inevitable result of their being "inextricably bound." Reducing Mage Viktor's manipulation of time/space/what have you to his desperate need to protect Jayce in every timeline morphs him into a very out-of-character Genocidal Eldritch Being when he's supposed to be the antithesis of OUR Machine Herald Viktor. By taking up Mage Viktor's quest to kill Machine Herald Viktor under these very specific circumstances - acceleration rune in hand - Jayce can end the cycle. He trumps the inciting incident. His love for Viktor reigns supreme.

The fact that this is so awkward to explain speaks to the severity of the retcon. I guess what I'm getting at is that Mage Viktor was not acting out of selfish, obsessive love (as romantic as that may seem to some); he was searching for a way to right his wrongs and found it in Jayce, his inseparable other half.

"Only you could show me this."

MORE TO THIS POINT: even Mage Viktor, for all his implied wisdom, having seen countless lifetimes wherein they failed to stop Hextech, still does not anticipate the depth of Jayce's love for him. He (presumably, because don't see this exchange, because Riot made egregious cuts) tells Jayce that the Viktor of this world must die. Jayce "can't fail." As far as I can tell, he never tells Jayce that he has to die along with him. Jayce rejected Viktor's bid to be partners again, after all...

Mage Viktor, like the true Viktor that lurks within the Machine Herald, still believes that Hextech is fully his fault. He still believes in his own weakness and his shortcomings and is so reliant, obsessed with independence that he refuses to share this responsibility. When Mage Viktor reveals himself to Machine Herald Viktor, and he's confronted with the depths of his own feelings, he shoves Jayce away in a last-ditch attempt to preserve his isolation.

Jayce does not allow this.

The love that keeps Viktor "inextricably bound" to Jayce is not one-sided. Viktor, in all iterations and timelines, does not bear the responsibility for Hextech alone. In his dying moments, when he finally understands that LOVE is what has kept he and Jayce together all this time, his humanity returns to him. They save the world - literally. Love literally conquered all. No Viktor, not even Mage Viktor, anticipated this. All Jayce really had to do was kill this Viktor, but he couldn't bear to part ways.

TLDR: Mage Viktor found a way to save the world, but Jayce found a way to reignite Viktor's humanity. Neither of things could coexist without the other.

Smaller, Less Important Reasons Why I Like Mage Viktor

I'll never forget the breathless whiplash I felt upon Mage Viktor's reveal. I feel pretty alone in that experience - oh well! I'll be the pariah! - but here are the reasons why he's made such an impression on me.

Seeing an aged Viktor hit me like a bus. I know he's still stricken with the arcane, but there's so much wisdom and kindness and life experience in his expression. I never thought we'd see that. I doubt he did, either.

BEARD VIKTOR TRUTHER.

It gives Viktor some agency back. I wrote in an earlier post that Mage Viktor being the one to liberate Viktor from his own tragic narrative is pretty awesome, and I stand by that.

Mage Viktor's vulnerability. I feel like Mage Viktor, finally realizing that this Jayce is the right one, that this moment is the pivotal one, says a lot of what Viktor in all timelines longs to say to Jayce.

The question of lifetimes - how many times did Viktor search for Jayce? How many times did he watch a timeline go by without him? How much loneliness did he endure (for the greater good?). What was it like seeing that in-universe Viktor had killed Jayce?

Reading Uncritically (I Swear This is Relevant)

Rita Felski, a very cool literary critic who we all should read, said the following about reading critically (the way that lots of us engage with Arcane on tumblr): "It is a mode of interpretation that adopts a distrustful attitude toward texts...that remain inaccessible to their authors as well as to ordinary readers" ("Suspicious Minds" 216). Even though she's writing about academia/literary criticism, I think her point still stands. We engage with media with the intent to expose, unearth, and problematize. We eagerly search for moments where the text fails us at the expense of the "superficial" that would otherwise uplift us. We are practicing the "hermeneutic of suspicion," which can be exceptionally draining.

It's pretty melodramatic of me to apply this kind of theoretical work to Arcane, of all things, but this story means a great deal to me. It is deeply flawed - the Mage Viktor retcon is kind of appalling if you stare down the barrel of suspicion. But, in looking through a reparative lens (Eve Sedgwick's word, not mine), I see Mage Viktor as a agency-ridden Viktor, an aged Viktor, a vision of the future Jayce and Viktor together make possible. I'm enriched by that.

Felski asks us: "How else might we venture to read, if we were not ordained to read suspiciously?" (232). What can we derive from Arcane by putting the pieces together with the goal of harmony and fulfillment? In the smallest sense, we may feel a bit better about the ways in which season 2 seriously let us down. In a larger, more hopeful sense, moments like Viktor confessing an ultimate love and attachment to Jayce, and Jayce returning it in kind, may fill us with an even deeper appreciation for unconditional love as the culmination of human connection, a world-ending and world-renewing thing that stares down the BBEG of Arcane and wins.

You could probably read all of this as my apology for enjoying what so much of the fandom has condemned. That's alright. There are so many pieces of Mage Viktor that fragment under the critical microscope, but I can't shake the emotional impact of his reveal, so I'll live in that space for the time being. Had Arcane allotted for any explanatory conversations, flashbacks, and/or given up their soft world build to account for Mage Viktor, we'd be in a better place plot-wise. Alas, here we are instead. Everyone can point and laugh at me if they did all this just to bring back God/Made/Eldritch Being/Whatever The Fuck Viktor in future projects. That'll be my penance!

And, finally, if you really didn't like Mage Viktor, I fully respect that, but this is my self-indulgent post and I'm not overly interested in debating...there's little anyone could say that I wouldn't agree with. I'm just avoiding the suspicion of it all :)

[xmalereader]

— Endless Pt. 1 —

Bruce Wayne x Endless! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

SUMMARY: The endless family is made up of 7 children, so why is their an 8th? Reader is the black sheep of the family with no purpose to fulfill the human realm. He spends his days locked away in the Dreaming where he stays under his brothers watch. It wasn’t until one of Dreams new nightmares escapes the realm and starts causing problems in the Waking, giving reader a chance to show that he can be helpful in his family by tracking down his brothers nightmare, not knowing what awaits him.

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Angst, slow burn, MDNI 18+, language, endless family, dream trying to be a good brother, mentions of abuse, black sheep, self esteem problems, mentions of death, family secrets, friends to lovers, post riddler chaos, mentions of new villains, foreshadowing, reader and Bruce balancing each other out, Gotham is shit, slight kissing, trauma mentioned, OC nightmare, non-canon works.

WC: 5k

TAGS: @circusdexxter @lordzachariah0-0 @apolo1808 @i-cant-sleep615 @kayden1 @boylicious143 @h-ib @kik1010 @toxic90sboy @multifandomsimp69 @moththesadmage @stalker0

NOTES: Finally! After a very long break I’m finally getting back into writing again! I will mainly be focusing on my series that I’ve been planning for quiet awhile and really want to focus on this Endless series that I’ve had in mind for months. I’ll try my best to update as much as possible since each chapter will be between 5k-8k words or longer in order to have fewer chapters, but other than that, here is the first part and thank you for being patient on my writing!

Blinding - Florence And The Machine

The Endless had 8 children, each with a purpose in life.

Destiny with the purpose of defining all that is, Death was destined to put the universe to rest, Dream with the creation of stories and imagination, Destruction with the power of not only destroying but of making and producing, Desire with the purpose of wanting and lust along with their twin Despair who is the personification of despair and hope, and Delirium who can create realities and manipulate the human mind.

They all had an important purpose.

All but one.

The eighth child was the youngest of them all, having been born eons later after Delirium resulting in the last sibling of the Endless family. His siblings figured that he would have a purpose just like them only to have none. The last sibling wasn’t special nor was he given a proper name that would fit his so called ‘purpose’ instead both Father Time and Mother Night left their last child in the hands of their other children.

He expected his brothers and sisters to help him find a purpose that brought balance to the human realm, but neither sibling was much help. The twins simply teased him, mocking his existence while the others grew to busy in their own duties to give him the attention he needs, a few of his other siblings were busy searching for the ‘Prodigal’ who had left his duty many years ago and was being searched in order to restore balance again.

The youngest Endless could only watch from the sidelines holding onto hope that he too, would have a purpose of his own.

As he was passed around from sibling to sibling he spent most of his time in their realms watching their work and staying in line from overstepping into their duties. He spent most of his time in Dreams realm feeling his heart warm in joy when he walked through his brothers creation. The creation of stories and imagination was a powerful thing for many humans something that his brother found joy in doing.

There were times that he spent his time in his brothers library, hidden behind many rows of books, watching from the corners as his brother speaks with Lucian and Marvin. No matter how long he spends in this dreaming he never had the chance to actually create a bond with his brother, growing afraid each time he approached him when returning a book or when trying to ask a simple question about his creations.

Delirium was technically the baby in the family before he came into the picture and Dream already struggled with creating a bond with his sister and he didn’t want to get in the way of their bond. He spent years without knowing his duty that he’s grown used to being an outsider from his siblings, spending his ‘family’ dinners alone in Dreams realm, trying to stay out of their business as much as possible.

Even if his sister, Death, tired to convince him to join them for dinner he’d refuse and continue on with his day. What was the purpose of him being there? He can’t stand their whispers of pity, so why even bother.

He felt like a burden to his own family, so instead of trying to fit in he’d slowly pushed himself out of the picture and allowing them to have the spotlight while he stood out the frame. There were times that wished to disappear like his brother, Destruction. He didn’t know much about him and the others didn’t talk about him, not because they hated him, but because of the pain it brought them when reminded of their brother leaving without a word, abandoning his duty and hiding from the world.

When wandering around Dreams library he had found a book hidden deep in the shelves that contained a photo of his brother, Destruction. He looked older than the others and with a rugged expression on his face, having facial hair on his face and perhaps a grumpy like exterior. He kept the image of his brother in mind before putting the book back where it belongs in order to keep his brother, Dream from knowing his findings.

“A nightmare has escaped.”

He was doing his usual routine, hiding in the library and nose buried in a book before his ears perk at the sound of the ravens worried tone when landing near Lucians desk and letting her know about the situation.

“Does Lord Morpheus know about this?” Lucian had asked while she looked through the new plans of the realm, showing very little interest towards the situation since she had no control over dreams and nightmares.

The raven, Matthew tilts his head to the side. “He does—“

“Then I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“It’s that new nightmare.” Said Matthew, voice laced with worry and concern.

His words causes Y/n to look up from his book, eyes widening when hearing Matthew. He knew what nightmare he was referring to and knew how messy the situation can turn out if a nightmare were to abandon its duties. Dream always kept an eye on his dreams and nightmares and had been making changes in his realm, more like improvements. He had been changing his nightmares into dreams and leaving him with time to make new nightmares for the dreamers, having created one that lurks on your deepest fears named Pitch.

Y/n never liked the nightmare when first meeting him, his tall structure and sharp yellow eyes always made him shiver and whenever he was alone the nightmare always found him.

“Pitch is nothing but problems.” Sighed Lucian while removing her glasses.

Matthew lets out a small sound of understanding. “He reminds me of the Corinthian in some way.”

The name was familiar to Y/n, having heard about him and the troubles he’s brought into Dreams realm the nightmare was so bad that Dream had to destroy his creation and store him away. His brother had claimed that he will restore the Corinthian again, one day when he deemed the time right.

Y/n doesn’t stay longer to listen to their conversation and closes his book, leaving it on the table and standing from where he sat. He doesn’t spare the librarian and raven a glance, having grown used to their silent glances when his presence is made known, leaving the library and making his way towards his brothers chambers where he finds him pacing around the room while reading a book in hand. He’s noticed the stack of books scattered on the floor with different names from many dreamers.

He can’t help but raise a brow at his brothers mess, but doesn’t point it out when approaching him.

“I suppose you are busy?”

Dream doesn’t look away from his book and keeps pacing. “I am always busy.” His voice echos back before stopping mid pace to look over to Y/n who stood a good distance from the other Endless. Dream looks at him up and down before asking. “Is there something you need?” He’d usually brush off anyone’s needs and focus on himself, but after his imprisonment of 100 years and spending more time around humans he’s grown to change.

Showing some compassion for once.

The younger endless stares at Dream and then down at the books that surround them both. He wants to jump in and help his brother with finding his missing nightmare to be able to do something for once. “I heard that Pitch left the realm.” He starts, noticing the slight frown appear on his brothers face which makes him bite the inside of his cheek in a nervous manner.

“I can help with finding him?” He finally asks.

Dream shuts his book which causes Y/n to flinch and avoid his brothers eyes, looking away nervously after asking. He would expect his brother to be upset for wanting to step in and provide assistance to his mistake when it was his duty to fix the problem and not Y/n’s.

But his brothers words surprise him. “I’d appreciate the help.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in surprise when he’s accepted to help, nodding slowly as he takes a few steps closer and a bit hesitant on what to do. “What are you looking for in these books?” He asks and bends down to pick one up, reading the name of the dreamer before flipping it open and skimming through the pages.

“Pitch lurks on fear. Since I no longer have my ruby, I am unable to find my nightmares and must doing things a bit differently.” Dream being to explain as he walks over to the other side of the room to toss the book he was currently reading on top of another pile. Y/n guessed that it’s the finished books he’s read. “If I wish to find Pitch I have to find out which dreamers are most likely to be targeted by him.”

Y/n looks back at the stack of books with wide eyes. “You’re trying to locate a dreamer who could possibly lure Pitch in?” He says in disbelief and turns back to Dream. “That could take hours or days, all dreamers have nightmares so Pitch could be going after anyone.” He sets the book down and steps back to stare at the different piles, reading off names and trying to figure out his brothers outrageous system of locating his missing nightmare.

Dream lets out a dry chuckle when hearing his little brothers worries and shakes his head. “Then,” he walks over to Y/n and hands him a book. “Lets get started.” The little Endless can only mentally groan as he takes the thick book in hand and watched Dream get back to his own reading.

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the two read for what felt like hours. The sound of flipping pages echoed in the throne room and the placement thud of the book beings piled up as the continued their reading. As much as he enjoyed spending time in his brothers library he was slowly growing tired of reading dreamers lives and how they spent their time in the dreaming realm when sleeping. Even though he doesn’t have a purpose he’s starting to realize that being a Dream lord wouldn’t be for him.

It wasn’t until he breaks out into a yawn that it gets the Dream lords attention, eyes glancing up from his book and towards his brother who was half asleep at this point. Dream sighs through his nose and closed his book, setting it aside from where he sat on the steps. “You're tired, get some sleep.”

Y/n snaps his head up and shakes his head at Dreams words. “I’m fine I can keep going.” He waves him off and tries to concentrate on the book o his lap, but Dream had quickly taken the book from him and closed it. “I can tell when someone doesn’t sleep.” His voice is low as he towers over Y/n who sits on the floor and sighs to himself, rubbing his eyes and nodding his head slowly. “Okay, I’ll get some sleep.” He mumbled in return as he stands from where he sat.

Even though he wanted to help Dream in finding Pitch he’d need to get some rest if he wishes to keep going. When letting Dream know that he will head off to his room and get some proper rest for the night he makes sure to sneak at least one book back to his bedroom in order to keep helping out of his brother sight and not get into any trouble.

He holds the book against his chest when leaving his throne room and down a different hall in his castle. He yawns again when reaching his own bedroom, its big and spacious when entering a few books are on the shelf and small little valuables are sitting near the balcony not having a lot since he spent most of his time in the Dreaming with his brother.

He tossed the book on his bed and falls face first into his pillow, moaning tiredly and closing his eyes for a few seconds, letting his body relax against the soft blankets and pillows. The silence wakes him back up, opening his eyes and glancing over to the book he had snuck into his room.

It was surprisingly thin and the binding is all black, getting his attention as he sits up and turns around to lie on his back. He grabs the book and holds it up, reading the name on the front cover.

“Bruce Wayne…” He whispers the name to himself and flips the cover open, starting at the beginning like every other book he’s read. He knows he’s suppose to be sleeping or else his brother will use his sand on him, but he can’t help but grow eager to continue helping his brother, to be able to do something for once as he reads the book in hand.

He’s nodding off little by little and trying to concentrate on the words on the pages, shaking the sleep away and sighing as he adjusts his sleeping position and groans before flipping to the next page only to freeze, his eyes full of confusion as he sits up, fully awake as he stares down at blank pages. He’s never seen something like this in the books, finding half of the pages blank.

The mans life ends in nightmares, but the blank pages had to mean something. He quickly pulls the blankets back and slips out of bed, rushing out of his room and holding the book in hand as he heads back to his brothers throne room to ask him about the strange book.

“Dream—?”

“Aren’t you suppose to be sleeping?” Dream cuts in and slams his book shut, setting it aside onto a pile. The time that Y/n spent reading had resulted in the shift of books, having less around the throne room since his brother had finished reading a few on his own. Before Y/n can ask about the blank pages in the book his brother had approached him and takes his wrist in hand, dragging him back to his room.

“Wait—!”

“I’ve told you many times that you are to be asleep, unlike me you need the rest since your body isn’t adjusted to the dreaming realm quiet yet.” He began to explain, disregarding Y/n’s protests as he’s dragged back to his room. “But Dream—!?”

“Enough talk.” They make it back to his room where Dream shoves him back into bed and takes the book from his grip, setting it aside and ignoring the title of the book since he was focused on Y/n.

“But the book!” said Y/n as he reached out to grab it only for Dream to push him back into bed.

“You can tell me about it tomorrow, now you sleep.” He doesn’t give Y/n the chance to speak again as he uses his sand on his little brother, watching as he yawns and his eyes slowly flutter closed.

—

Y/n doesn’t dream.

He knows that his own brother does since its apart of him, but Y/n never had dreams or nightmares. He always wondered if it was because he wasn’t an Endless like his siblings with a purpose in the human realm. His siblings had dreams, but never spoke about them. Dream had their books with their dreams and nightmares written locked away from prying hands, he never read their books in order to keep the privacy and respect, never lurking in their dreams to see what they think of when sleeping. He made a rule to never do such thing, but Dream was surprised when his little brothers book wasn’t on the shelf.

He had given it time since he was still young, but after eons, nothing.

That’s why Y/n had woken up without feeling anything, falling asleep in darkness and waking up as if nothing ever happened. He’d stare at the ceiling of his room, quiet and still as he thinks about last nights discoveries. He turns to his left where his brother had left the book. He would have expected Dream to take it back instead of leaving it in his room.

He takes the book into his hands again and reads the name to himself once more. His fingers opening the book as he flips through the empty pages in hopes of finding new words only to find nothing, ending in the same way as last night.

“You can’t be dead.” He says to himself when closing the book, he’s seen how their story is written before death comes for them. It always ends with a dream before their story reaches an end, but Bruce’s didn’t have that and it made him question it.

He holds the book in hand when leaving his room, heading off to see his brother only to find the throne room empty when arriving. The books that were scattered around were gone, leaving the place empty and clean. He decides to check the library, perhaps he could find his brother there if the books were all cleaned up.

Only, he doesn’t find his brother there other than Lucian.

“Lucian, have you seen Dream?” He speaks up softly towards the librarian as she organized a few books and puts them in their designated space in the shelves. She looks up from her work and sighs. “Lord Morpheus had to attend a family dinner.” She responds back which makes Y/n’s heart race at the statement, forgetting that family dinners were every few years.

He was always invited but rarely went since he didn’t want to deal with the usual conversations.

“Found your purpose yet?”

“Still staying with Dream?”

“Why even have another endless when you can’t figure out why you are here.”

The past conversation makes him shudder, hating the feeling of being different.

Lucian can easily see the sadness hidden behind Y/n’s eyes as if showing that he’s fine when deep down inside he was hurting.

“I was curious about something,” He began to say, holding the book under his arm. “have you ever dealt with a dreamers dreams not showing in their books?”

Lucian raises a brow at his question. “Lack of dreams?”

Y/n shakes his head. “More like, disappearing from the human realm when they aren’t really dead?” He winced at his own question, unsure if he was making sense towards the librarian.

“Oh,” Lucian gives him a look of surprise. “Well, we once dealt with a boy who went missing in the dreaming. We couldn’t find him in his books and it looked like he had disappeared from the world.” She explains while shelving books. “Turns out that a nightmare was keeping him hidden, using their power and work to hide the boy from the real world. A way of escaping reality and hiding in the dreaming.”

Y/n takes in her words, glancing down at the book he had. Thinking that perhaps this Bruce is suffering from nightmares, making him easy bait for Pitch. He isn’t sure if he’s right or wrong, but he knows he should let his brother know since its an urgent matter due to pitch leaving his duties and causing a problem to his brother.

“Thank you, Lucian.” He leaves the book on the table and quickly leaves the library. He doesn’t usually attend family dinners, but perhaps this once he can make an appearance only to let Dream know about his discoveries and then leave. His siblings always took turns in hosting dinners, sharing each others realms for a short period of time together.

Last dinner took place in Deaths realm, today it’s Destiny’s.

In order to enter his brothers realm he’d have to ask permission, but since its a family dinner he doesn’t need to ask. He’s only been in Destiny’s realm a few times, liking his garden that he walked through in order to make it to the clear opening where a dining table is set and finds his siblings conversing amongst each other.

He always felt nervous around his other siblings. He’s known them for eons, but he didn’t really know them. He only saw them as his siblings who took care of him when he was a child, but as time went by and he continued to age things had changed between them.

“Look who decided to join us.”

Desires voice floats through the air as he looks over to his sibling, giving them a small nod of acknowledgment. “Desire.”

“Endless.” They said back.

Y/n mentally flinched at the name. He’s Endless, but Endless of what?

“That’s a surprise, you usually don’t come to these dinners.” They continued on, taunting him with a sly grin on their face. “Oh!” They gasp out. “Are you here to tell us that you’ve finally found a purpose or did you just come to ruin the dinner?” They and Despair laugh at their comment which leaves Y/n quiet.

“That’s enough.” Dream cuts in, stopping his siblings mocking. Desire clicks their tongue and rolls their eyes when their fun is ruined.

Dream looks over to Y/n. “Are you here to join us?”

He doesn’t know what to say, his mind feels fuzzy and can hear his heart racing in his ears. His eyes glancing over to the twins who murmured to each other, his eyes then shift over to Death who looks at him with eyes full of pity and concern—he hated that look. His brother Destiny didn’t even look at him and and Delirium was lost in her own world.

It wasn’t until his eyes land on the empty chair across from Dream. He’s confused at first, asking himself why they would have a chair for him. “Oh…”

There was 7 seats, one for each sibling.

The seventh wasn’t for him. It was for his missing brother, Destruction.

He’s now realized had he’s never had a seat amongst them.

“Y/n?”

Dreams voice pulls him out of his thoughts, looking back at his brother and noticed the small hint of concern in his voice.

“Is something wrong?”

Y/n gives his brother a fake smile. “It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t stay much longer and turns his back, leaving his brothers garden and heading back to the Dreaming where he belonged. Did he really belong to the dreaming? Dream was only being a kind brother and letting him stay in his realm until he’s found his purpose but its been eons and he still hasn’t figured out what kind of endless he is. Thinking about it makes him feel like a burden, having bothered his brother for years not asking himself if Dream has perhaps grown tired of having him around.

He found beauty in his brothers work always amazed by his creations and ideas that he can’t help but think that he’s a mistake wandering around his brothers creation.

“You are just Endless.”

Dream of the Endless.

Death of the Endless.

Desire of the Endless.

They all had a name, but him.

“How can I know who I am…” He whispers in the emptiness of his room, staring at the pile of books that he had left forgotten in his room only to remember last nights book.

“Bruce Wayne.”

He may not be someone who can lead him to Pitch, but he could be a start. He’s curious to know why his book ended in blank pages, waiting to be filled with words. Even if he was wrong at least it was an excuse for him to leave the realm to perhaps find himself something out in the Waking.

Y/n had seen the Waking and had very little interactions with mortals, but perhaps he’ll get the chance to know them at a better level. There isn’t much for him to take other than a notebook with notes regarding his brothers dreams and nightmares and his time here in the dreaming. His room never had anything valuable only a simple bed and a few books, nothing else.

He flips the book open and reads his last page.

“Gotham City.”

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

hallo - I'm probably the umpteenth person to ask this, but have you seen the very brief shot of Viktor's new design in the Arcane S2 teaser? if you have, what are your thoughts ? I'm a little worried about it if I'm being honest, given that they're leaning even MORE into the "sickly twink mage" thing :(

man I'm going to miss og viktor

Hi! Don't worry even if you're the bazillionth, I'll always reply, it's no problem (I like getting messages!)

Unfortunately based on the leaked screenshots, this is my prediction (I haven't invested more than one day into this art as it's frustrating to imagine):

The spindly fingers and his height in the leaked images inform me (I suppose) that they are indeed leaning into the "little timmy has a cough" design as a friend of mine would say.

They're gonna stretch him and have him feel like a tree, like he's made out of metal branches pulsing with Void energy. The Hex Core is clearly going to be in the middle of his chest to power him instead of on the tip of his staff. The staff already got converted into a cane. Expect to see a LOT of holes and veins in him because that's the very first design thought a person comes up with when they want to convey something "ooo creepy! ooo alien!" (we usually discard our first ideas because they are generic.) And Riot is clearly transplanting Malzahar's thing onto Viktor because apparently they don't know what to do with this Machine Herald character. He's gonna be going mad because of VOID WHISPERS instead of actually suffering from a real untreated mental disorder.

The staff design is already clearly visible in the leaked image, and the only thing I have to say about it is that it looks like a lot of pointless design noise. None of those lumpy metal parts serve a purpose.

The claw may replace the third hand and it may come out of the shoulder itself for some reason, which is insanely impractical. It was mounted on his back in the original design for a reason. Current designs seem to think that an actual hand is too "naive"?

Even if on first glance they may share many elements, fundamentally they are two different characters. They fulfill completely different archetypes.

It doesn't matter if Arcane Viktor's cape is still blue on the outside and red on the inside, because the core of the character would be different. A coat of paint on the top doesn't determine his structure.

[meraki-sunset]

Hi Meraki!

Can you draw Carapaces at different points in their lifespan? I wanna see babies, kids, and the elderly chess pieces.

Sure bro. here are some chess people and some headcanons i have

🧸👶BABIES!👶🧸

It's not confirmed if carapace can reproduce naturally or if they can only multiply using the ectobiology machines.

On sburb, the chess people are born as adults and with a specific purpose, with a barcode on their wrist to identify the, i guess, model. So there are no babies on Prospit or Derse.

The babies the players made in the post credits would be the first carapace children to exist.

I headcanon that they're born with a full set of teeth that fall eventually, like with any other child.

They're a little more squishy than an adult carapace but less than a human baby

i also though it'd be cool if sometimes they got black or white spots

(Also, even if chess people remember living for years before the arrival of the players, they effectively began to exist the moment the first player enters the game, those memories being an illusion, same as how, when you buy a game and turn it on, the NPCs might tell you about their childhood, when in reality, they were never kids in the real world, they were rendered as adults for the purpose of being there in the game. The same happens with the chess people)

🎈🎀KIDS🚀🪁

Like before, there are no carapace children in sburb, but I imagine they would be the quiet type of kids. Not necessarily shy, but not very talkative.

They would have a lot of energy and due to their physical endurance, they would play outside a lot, sometimes a little too rough with the human and troll kids

⚽⛱️TEENS🎮👗

I guess this is the period where they would become more vocal.

Also, I can see many of them using a lot of hats/accessories as a form of self-expression.

Suction-cup accessories would be their own version of hair clips and scrunchies

👠👓ADULTS💍🎓

They're the strongest, a lot of them have more pointy features than their teenage counterparts, some may retain the round face into adulthood, but they would still be sturdier than a teen. Their hands have now fully developed claws. They aren't strong enough to open a can, but they can hurt

EarthC adult carapace specifically would be more talkative than Sburb's carapace. Also, not having a predetermined role to fulfill, they would be more similar to humans. If you dropped one of them on one of the sburb moon, they would stand out a lot.

🌙SBURB CARAPACE🌙

Just some apreciation of the canon characters.

i love them to death

👨🏻‍🦳ELDER👩🏻‍🦳

Last but not least, the elderly carapace. Sburb carapace didn't seem able to age, or at least they did so very slowly, because their purpose was to live long enough to act as sort of guides to the players after being exiled.

I suppose they can grow old eventually, specially the ones born outside the game, as babies, they most likely have a shorter lifespan that their Prospit/Derse counterparts.

Probably you can tell they're old because of the damage to their external carapace, which isn't as hard as it used to and their posture, product of time taking a tool on them.

As for wrinkles, they're only visible in their faces, which are softer for facial expression, but they don't even get that many

(also, just so you know i cried drawing the chicken grampa carapace, he knows his wife loves birds so he bought her a chicken, that's not exactly the kind of bird she expected but loves it regarthless, the chicken's name is gertrude, the grampa loves gertrude, she's a chicken orb, a chorb if you will. they're all happy, i would die for chicken-grampa)

And that's all, that's how I imagine EarthC carapace work. They're not so different from the Sburb carapace, but they get to experience growing up and deciding what to do with their lives.

i really love the species and i want to explore them more in the casu epilogue

[myfriendtheurbanlegend]

The Carter/Reese kiss came up on my dash again...

I've always thought John Reese can love and care about more than one person at a time for different reasons. This doesn't do a disservice to any character and I find it incredibly reductive to think so.

Behind the scenes, it was an emotional alternative take that the writers chose to include in the final cut of the episode, despite the showrunners' apparent disinterest in a Reese/Carter relationship. Both actors said the lines sort of called for it and I can see what they meant. I fail to see how the kiss ruined anything about Reese and Carter and Finch, unless one thinks character roles are radio buttons and you can't check [BADASS] without unchecking [LOVE INTEREST].

Reese's relationship with Finch is special; Finch gave him a purpose and the means to fulfill it but that doesn't cancel the fact that their story starts with Finch wanting something out of Reese and effectively getting it through manipulation. There is a lot of friction and distrust in the beginning and Reese is smart to be wary. It might be me, but I like the ups-and-downs of this relationship, the arguments. Nonetheless, Finch proves himself to be magnitudes better than his old bosses, a leader he can follow. Instead of leaving him to the wolves at the end of Number Crunch, the "middle-aged cripple" comes for him, and saves his life. Reese puts his life on the line for him when he's kidnapped, and so on, and so forth, they stumble along together, trying to right their wrongs.

Carter on the other hand doesn't have that kind of baggage. It's not the same dynamic. She takes one look at him at the station and understands what he's going through. She is a working woman, a single mom and she was in the same path as Reese to an extend but she made good decisions and ended up different. I think Reese recognized that when they first talked. She did what he strove to do and failed and he feels that with the power Finch and his machine granted him he can protect the ideals she upholds even if he can never live up to them. He does say the world can't afford to lose her and has always, from S1 tried his damnedest to protect her. Now this isn't very well communicated in the show because Reese's active suicidal tendencies were cut (they wanted to have Reese dangling from a bridge but the city prohibited filming there) but this is what I think the "You changed my mind" line means. Carter, being the person that she was, gave him a nudge in the police station. When he was on his feet, she became his anchor, through her good work and character.

In the end, Finch gave him the purpose, the means. Carter was the ideal that he was fighting for.

[scivors]

My genuine head canons about Eddie Gluskin that I wrote in my notes app:

I'd like to add a little disclaimer: these head canons involve some heavy topics, so, if you're not comfortable, you aren't obligated to stay.

Also, I do not support any of Eddie's actions..just to make it clear..

ANYWAYS I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THIS SO HERE WE GO

Like the idea of him being a tailor (if you don't know what that means it basically means a person whose occupation is making or altering suits, jackets, and dresses typically to fit a particular person.) He's so creative and almost patient enough to work with materials. I also like to think that's something he shares in common with his mother who must've taught him a good few things about creating and measurements..

He'll hum a little tune to himself as he's working, makes him concentrate more..

It's not always, though, sometimes he loses his patience if the sewing machine isn't cooperating like it should be..

Although his whole character is based on "love" and wanting to find a special bride who loves him just as much as he loves his bride, it's sad to say that his needs will never be fulfilled..

What I mean by this is that not only are his delusions serving him zero purpose but not only that, hurting anyone that comes across him cause he's so desperate to be loved. However, these delusions could be a result of a coping mechanism from all the trauma he went through.

It's like trying to break the generational trauma but instead making it far worse than you could imagine..

So, being severely damaged as he already is, he takes it upon himself to somehow create this little world where he has a family of his own, a beautiful wife and children.

I also like to think of him being trapped in his little cell where he has nothing but a bed and his own little imagination.., staring off into either the ceiling or some random thing and just sits there..,maybe even talking to himself or laughing..

- His mother's lack of acknowledgement for what had happened to him when he was small made him develop some sense of protective nature as a fully grown adult especially when he mentions the topic about having his own children..

- "He appears so charming and friendly" is what he wants some to believe, he cares about how he presents himself time to time..

He wants you to believe he can be good, a perfect groom, a perfect father he never had. He will show you this people pleasing, gentle, kind and loving personality before he completely switches up and becomes the opposite..

- So, about the love part. Some describe him as overly obsessive, which don't get me wrong, he is. Though, it might seem like this isn't much of a big deal to him cause he will show you every ounce of love he has and shower you with it, if you plan on giving yourself to him that is. You'd be his number one priority, you'll never feel like a choice, you are his everything.. It's always like living the dream from the very start, it'll feel like a movie in Hollywood but slowly yet surely this doesn't last how it should...

Imagine being taken care of by someone as charming and loving as he is, imagine him calling you loving words in his English accent and no I'm not just talking about "darling" , I'm talking about :

"Are you alright, my love?"

"Your virtues have so strangely taken up my thoughts.."

"I think you're stunning.."

"You look as pretty as always.."

He is old fashioned, so he will eventually take it upon himself to act like a gentleman around you, he will make the first move, gets you flowers, he plans everything since he would love spend time with you.. It's all about getting to know eachother..

You'd never have to do such work, stay at home and he will do all the providing. 50/50 chance he comes back home with some nice flowers or small gifts..,like I said, old fashioned..

His thoughts would only be you. His number one priorit would always be you. But,... it's not you?..

You're you but also you're not?..

His mind creates this character of you, it's what he's expecting from you, how you act, how you talk, how you dress, how you walk..it's what he expects from you rather accepting you for who you are. This results to a lot of guilt tripping..

And I know, it sucks, but should've thought about it that before going for a psychopathic maniac that's in an asylum for a reason..

- It's quite easy to spot this one, but one of his most common triggers is when someone makes him think they're going to abandon him.

"I can't be alone!.."

By the way, his height and his strength is actually so scary that if you do eventually try to abandon him by walking away, he'll break the door down, he'll find you, he'll do unspeakable things to either you or the furniture that's in his way of trying to get close to you

(Speaking of which: I've noticed a lot of people using the term "Yandere" for an individual with mental illness. Please, stop that..)

Outside of the asylum I like to think his sense of fashion is probably top tier old money, just casual and nice..

Probably likes taking night walks with his nice coat on. That'll keep anyone from expecting him to be a psychopath..

Originally, the man ((((COULD)))) be from England, however, his parents decided to move countries from Europe to America cause they probably liked it more that way..

Eddie is definitely those kinds of people who have that one parent that's always been treating them like shit their entire childhood but still hold a special place in their heart for them cause they don't have anyone else.. That's Eddie towards his mother, I mean, he was her son...all he had was her and deep down he believes that, there was a point she wanted to help..(Even though her absence permanently damaged him)..

But somehow..that caring nature, that charming side of him, that right there, that came from her..

[violentvaleska]

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʏᴀɴ!ʟᴇᴠɪ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴛ ғɪʀsᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀs ʜɪs ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ sᴜʙᴏʀᴅɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴀʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ-ɪɴᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ-ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄs, sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ, ᴍɪsᴛʀᴇᴀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ

Levi doesn't really know what has drawn him to you. Perhaps your eagerness to please or your fearful and awe driven gaze directed him. Maybe it was your cute smile or the elegant way you held yourself. It certainly wasn't the fact that you were born in the safety of Mitras and your weak excuse of combat wasn't it either. While you appear to be smart and talented with the ODM gear, you certainly wouldn't do fighting titans. It's that simple. Your purpose as a soldier would probably be death, giving your life for humanity. Levi hates that fact; he despises the idea of you dying. You were subordinated to him after you joined the Survey Corps a year ago and if it wasn't for him, you would have been eaten and ripped apart on more occasions than he would like to admit. 

He expected you to be just that, a rich brat. Probably narcissistic and an egomaniac, having only your own desires in best interest. Most likely arrogant and always bragging about your accomplishments, like Oluo. To his surprise you were nothing like that. Your star struck eyes would always look up to him, a mixture of hope and awe in them. You would follow his every comment, much like Petra, but unlike her you were still in need of extra training.

The Captain always held you close. He would make you stay longer in training, so you could get better and stronger. After he would tell you to shower and meet him in his office to help him with paperwork, something that definitely wasn't in your range of duty. He abused his power over you, using your eagerness to help for his own advantage. Levi thrived, still does, in your attention and obedient behavior. He quite often thinks about you, wondering why a brat of Mitras would join the military. You had no reason to; a rich family, fulfilled life. And while he doesn't enjoy the thought of you with another man, you would have probably married someone of your class and bore him children. These thoughts made him realize that it might be the reason why you left. You did not want to be treated like a baby machine, did not want to marry a stranger twice your age. The Scouts made you free, or so you thought. Truth is you'd never be free, not as long as your Captain was around. It made him wonder what your life was like in Mitras. You were a late bloomer; joined when you turned eighteen, he knew that much. You probably waited to legally decide your fate on your own, without having to worry about your parents intervening. He remembers that day he looked over all of the reports of his new Cadets. You caught his interest.

"Fucking Mitras brat." He spat.

And then Eren came around. Levi was aware of his importance and upcoming changes that would occur with the moment he stepped foot into the Corps. Levi sat in Erwin's office drinking tea while he rolled his eyes at Hange’s rambling, their loud voice caused him a headache. 

"We need you to pick a new squad, Levi. Your Cadets will be handed over to Miche, so you have time to prepare your soldiers for the special operation. " Erwin explained and gave them a meaningful glance. He felt sour at the thought, but eventually decided to dare his luck a little.

"Sure. Am I allowed to hand-pick my new squad?" The blonde, tall man rolled his eyes, giving him a cold facade. 

"Yes. I trust you on your decisions. Do you have anyone specific in mind?" In his head, Levi screamed your name in desperation. 

"Eld is a fine soldier. Petra Ral and Oluo Bozado would be suited too." He halted, glaring at him as he waited for Erwin to agree. He did so gladly. 

"There is someone else." Levi noted and cleared his throat. The Commander gave him a sad look, feeling regret twirling in his gut. 

"You want to drag her into this?" Erwin wondered, hoping to motivate his friend to change his mind. 

"You said you would trust my decisions." Erwin stopped arguing and Levi knew he had Smith wrapped around his finger. He would give him almost anything if it meant that the Captain was happy. Confused Hange scratched their head. "Who are you talking about?" They asked directed at Erwin, they didn't expect an answer from Levi anyways. 

"A Cadet from Levi's current squad." It didn't take more to form Hange’s lips into an 'O' shape as awkward silence hit them. Rumors had already spread in the upper ranks of the squad about Levi being madly in love with his subordinate. The Captain would never dare to call it love though. No, he just gets off on the idea of having control over the Mitras brat. 

"Why did you choose me?" You asked him when the two of you cleaned the hall of your new headquarters, an abandoned castle. It's dirty and if there was something Levi hated more than stains on his clothes it certainly was an unclean environment. 

"Are you questioning my decisions brat?" He felt good, turning the words in your mouth so you would feel sorry.

"I would never dare to, Captain!" You raised your voice in fear, looking at him with hurt. 

"It's just-" You started shuddering at his cold stare, knowing you had to choose your next words wisely.

"There are so many others who are better than me." He nodded his head and agreed with you, your polite smile falling. He felt almost bad, but the thin line of feeling bad and boiling lust was conflicted within him. 

"But I have my reasons. You have other useful qualities." He encouraged her. 

"Like what?" Levi sighted and gritted his teeth, fletching them at her. 

"Oi, shut up now. The floors don't clean themselves." Shrinking under him you held your breath and whispered a small 'sorry Sir' continuing your cleaning duties. 

You didn't have dinner tonight, not enough time to eat. You relaxed in the showers and thought about your mistakes for too long. You shouldn't have lost your temper, shouldn't have raised your voice, after all Captain Levi is your superior, you don't know what has gotten into you. Petra tried to offer you comfort. "He's just stressed." She assured you, as she held your crying body in her arms. "I'm sure he only wants to talk things out with you! You mean a lot to him, I can tell." Her words were smoothing and the two of you made their way into the showers, relaxing under the warm stream of water. 

In his mind the two of you got closer over the past three weeks you were at the castle. With every passing day he got more and more desperate, bombing you with training. Learning about the true purpose of the 57th expedition, he had to make sure that you were safe. The hard work made you feel exhausted and after you had to repeat the same exercise for what felt like the hundredth time you simply snapped.

"I can't do this anymore!" You screamed, while you lost your calm demeanor. Throwing a tantrum around Levi, criticizing him at the same time, wasn't the best idea, you'll admit. The Captain angrily shut you up and squeezed your arm under his tight grip. He felt pissed, angry way beyond your pathetic imagination.

"If you don't get better you will die. I can’t always be there to save your sorry ass Cadet." He was aggressive and shook your body. 

"Then don't! I'm a soldier, it would be an honor to die for your cause." It was the first time he had violently touched you; the back of his hand smacking against your skin. His squad held their breaths in shock and didn't know how to react to his outburst. It wasn't unusual for Levi to get physical with people that misbehaved, but with you it was something else. Never did he lay his hands on you, except in training of course. You were quiet, other than the quiet whimpers that left your lips. It urged him to do worse. 

"Are you dense? You stupid brat don't even know what it means to die in honor. You should have stayed in Mitras with that attitude. I'm in no need of suicidal soldiers." You started crying at this point, shaking under his hands. He felt adrenaline shot into his abdomen, a nice tingle made his member slightly twitch at the sight of you. 

"Then why did you choose me?" He was close to hitting you again, his hand bawling into a fist; knuckles shining white. 

"Meet me in an hour in my office. Clean yourself up, you smell." With that he let you go and walked past his squat, eyebrows furrowing as Petra ran to your side, offering comfort. You didn't deserve that; he thought and shook his head in anger. The two of you were too soft. 

After that you dressed in your fresh formal-uniform and brushed your wet hair behind your ears, trying to appear as neat and dolled up as always, a habit that stuck with you ever since you were a little girl. Your parents made sure that your appearance would match your status as a wealthy Mitras girl. You hated it there, felt trapped and lonely. Some things that were taught to you stayed with you though, like taking good care of your body, always keeping your stuff clean or being polite. Of course, you learned to obey others, especially men, too. They prepared you to be a good wife. It scared you, made you feel sick; the thought of marrying a stranger gave you anxiety. It's why you decided to leave and enlisted in the Training Corps, making your parents disappointed. You felt guilty, as much as you do now. You displeased your Captain, the one you looked up to, the one that makes you eager to submit. You would do anything and perhaps, tonight you will. 

Those thoughts cross your mind as you stand in front of his office and private quarters. The upper ranks really have nice privileges. Your heart pounds against your chest, as you softly knock on the wood. Footsteps emerge as you fitch with the hem of your dress shirt. The door creaks open, revealing your Captain to you. He takes a step to the side, offering you access to his office with a spread arm. You don't look at him when you enter, head hanging low, and eyes fixed on the ground. Your punishment might be a severe one, probably physical discipline. He did punish you twice, made you run around the headquarters for three hours or leave out all the meals once. But this time is going to be much worse, and you know it's the way he looks at you that makes you question his sanity. You should feel ashamed of that. 

"You know Cadet, I could tell that you were on edge as of lately." He starts and takes a seat, making you stand opposite of his desk. 

"And I get it, we all are." He places his slender hands on the wooden surface, the same hands that caused you pain an hour ago. 

"But raising your voice against your Captain? Arguing with him, with me-“ he scoffs leaning forward.

"Now that's disrespectful on a new level. What happened? Did I finally break my favorite toy?" Levi mocks, a sinister expression on his usual stoic face. The last sentence got to you, eyes widening, a little displeased groan escapes you, eyebrows furrowing at the insult. Though, instead of sharing your discomfort with him, you simply answer: "Sorry Captain. It won't happen again." At that he rolls his eyes, shaking his head disappointed. 

"That did not answer my question. Did I break you yet, Cadet?" You wonder if the thought of emotionally dragging you down would please him. It would make sense, he always did show sadistic tendencies around you, bombing you with dehumanizing duties. You agreed to do them with a smile, hoping it would please him and it did. Now you wonder if it just egged him on to be much harsher with you. 

"I was close." You confess and fold your hands in your front, blankly returning his gaze. 

"Good. I hope you know why I'm pushing you harder than the others." His tongue slightly brushes over his dry lips, as he locks his steel-colored eyes on your form. You take a moment to think and hesitantly speak up after a few seconds. 

"I believe it's because I'm not as good as the others." A small smile spreads over his lips as he stands up again. You never saw him smile; it slightly starts to weird you out.

"Correct. You would die out there, I can't have that." Levi walks up to you in a slow pace, his relaxed state dominating the room. You swallow, taking a step back as he closes in. 

"Captain? May I ask why you can't have me dying?" A sight leaves him, as he places a hard on your shoulder, stopping you from moving. 

"Aren't you a nosey girl?" Your Captain states and places his other hand on your other shoulder as well. A bit of panic rises in your gut at the touch. The Captain was never one to show affection and this strange touch simply can't mean anything good. 

"Why did you order me here?" The question lingers in the air like a heavy prayer, making Levi's hands grip your delicate shoulders tighter. 

"Tch. Want me to show you?" He's seconds away from doing something stupid and both of you know it. 

"Yes, please." You murmur and break the contact of your stare, allowing him full authority. With excitement his hands glide from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you closer. He leans to the level of your ear, warm breath and the sudden closeness making you stiffen.

"What I'm going to show you is either a reward-" you feel his hands softly roam your curves, making you start shaking at the feeling it provides you. Not sure if it is desperation or despair, you let quiet whines out, encouraging him to grip your bum. 

"-or a punishment." You yelp as the same hand that caressed you moments ago gave your behind a harsh slap. Biting down onto your lip, you try to push him away from you to no use. He doesn't even buckle under your weak attempts.

"It's going to be up to you, silly Cadet." He whispers and slowly starts to move his head down your neck, placing tingling kisses at your vulnerable areas. Denying that his hands and lips feel pleasurable on your body would be a lie. It feels good, adrenaline rises in your gut as you think about how wrong this is. Superior ranks to yours shouldn't use you the way he does, after all you could report him for his inappropriate behaviors. Though it probably won't be to any good use, because Commander Erwin closed his eyes to the strange relationship of yours months ago. You know that most of the upper ranks suspect something between the two of you and yet nobody came to your help so far, because they don't want to anger Captain Levi. 

At some point you are a mess; cheeks flushed, heart beating rapidly, and your flesh is painted in bite marks. His hands hold you up and keep you from falling into his erratic body.

"Captain-" you wince and grip him weakly against your heated form, allowing even more contact between the two of you. 

"Hm?" He hums and lets his hand wander between your legs, making your posture stiffen. 

"This is wrong Captain, please-" you finish your sentence with a moan as his fingers dance circles around your clit, a wonderful sensation erecting in your abdomen.

"Shut up, it is not." He insists and slowly takes a few steps forward, making you stumble back at the unexpected movement. The both of you crash against his table and with a swift motion it's empty, papers and pens landing on the floor. He quickly makes use of your shocked self and pushes you down onto it, hour back connecting with the hardwood. A sound of pain rings through the room and it takes you a while to register what's happening. Levi presses your body down with his, his heavy breathing catches your attention and the next thing you notice is something hard against your thigh. At first you thought it was his hip bone, but after he starts rubbing it against you realization hits you. Feeling yourself blushing furiously, heat spreads through your stomach like a wildfire. You try to push him away, brushing his hand from you, which only causes him to grind harder against you. 

"No," you whine as he bites your earlobe. "Levi stop!" Your voice sounds muffled, a few tears run down your hot cheeks. He stills for a moment before resuming. Your hips arch upwards, pushing into his hardened length. He groans, mouth wide open while his eyes are squeezed shut. Moving his head from your shoulder to rest his face right below your ear, he whispers:

"You are to call me Captain, Cadet." His breath is warm against your neck, the rough sound of his deep voice sends shivers down your spine, and you let out a whimper that sounds like a plea. He smirks slightly, enclosing his hand around your throat. 

"And I'm calling you mine." He decides and opens your dress shirt, exposing your bodice and skin underneath. In a matter of a minute, you wrinkle completely naked underneath him; plank panic written on your face. He on the other hand is completely dressed, only making the effort to loosen the first two buttons of his shirt. His cravat is placed in your mouth to make you shut up and he observes you with dark eyes, while he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows. 

"You look so beautiful." He whispers and brushes over your cheek, wetting his thumb with your salty tears. His pupils are blown as he slowly fitches with his pants, pulling out his member to the cool air. 

"Please-" you cry out, not sure if you want him to continue or to stop. He looks good that way; black hair falling into his pale face and his posture hovering over your vulnerable form. 

"No, I deserve you this way." He breathes out and leans down.

"You are my subordinate, my soldier. Mine." He groans and starts to slowly rub circles between your already wet folds. 

"Ever since you joined the Scouts you have been nothing but submissive-" He trails off and enters you with his finger, making you whimper. 

Levi thrusts even harder and throws his head back until a deep growl rings through your ears and you feel him twitch. For a moment he thought about coming inside of you, impregnating you so you wouldn't have to attend the expeditions anymore. Eventually he decides against it, the risks of getting into serious trouble are too high. He watches as hot strings of his semen trip onto your lower bell, his face twisting in disgust. He grabs for a napkin in his pant pockets and cleans himself and your skin, making sure that not one single drop is left. He ever so slightly looks at you, trying to read your reaction. Are you scared? Pleased? He can't tell. 

"But I guess people can change, hugh?" He pulls out and leads his finger to his lips, greedily tasting you. Closing your eyes in shame, you bit down on the cloth between your lips, feeling the dip of something hot press against your entrance. You can't hold back your cry when he slides it inside you, stretching you open to take all you are willing to give. His pace increases slightly after he waited for a minute so you could adjust. His hands run through your hair, tugging at any loose strands. Your heart races and your hands ball into fists as you try your best to ignore the burning pain you are in. Levi doesn't stop once. With an angry grunt he slams himself inside and you moan loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist, digging your nails into his broad shoulders. The cloth in your mouths loosens and you take the opportunity, spitting it out.

"Captain. Please-" You cry as you feel your nails digging into his flesh, breaking his pure skin easily. The harsh movements of his hips slowly start to feel enjoyable, the slapping sound of skin ringing in your ears.

"I knew I liked you better when you were quiet." He breathes as he thrusts in and out of you, faster than before. When you thought about your first time it certainly didn’t cross your mind that it would be like this; rough and full hatred. Not understanding why, you would feel pleasure with the way he treats you, you close your eyes and let the sensation wash over you. Your body shakes with each stroke of his cock and your hands start to tremble. A sudden orgasm washes over you and you scream his name, letting it flow free through your clenched teeth. He growls low in his throat when he watches how your hips jerk up towards him. 

You breathe flatly, your back hurting from the hard surface underneath you. Your classy eyes watch the dancing flames of the chandelier above you with interest. You feel exhausted and lightheaded, the feeling of being empty again is weird. The sensation of your climax still lingering in your abdomen. 

"Sit up Cadet." Your Captain demands and helps you into an upright position. 

"Dress. Then help me with those reports." He gestures at the floor, while fixing his shirt, trying to appear not too casual. 

"Yes Captain." You obey his comment, collecting your uniform and undergarments that has been spread around his table. You notice his eyes on your naked body, making you feel uncomfortable. 

"Cadet." He catches your attention as your eyes meet. 

"You don't tell anyone about this. And don't even get the idea of spreading your legs for anyone but me." Levi demands in a grumpy manner. You glance at him, shocked and offended. Never would you dare to do this with any other person. 

"Oi! Do you understand that brat?" ‘

"Yes Captain Levi."

[nanomooselet]

Wraith V / Through A Glass Darkly

I admit to maybe being overly obsessed with this thing.

Because of (naturally) the colours (and the fact that at 100%, it looks like a flatlining heart monitor, as if we needed more indications this is a symbolic death). Vash in red/magenta and gold, Knives in blue/white and violet - until it's complete. Then Vash wakes up, suddenly all-violet, while Knives is left only with blue and teal.

Why would that be? Because Vash is at last consciously using his powers? Maybe. Likely.

But I, at least, would also like to believe Tesla has more to her story than forever remaining an objectified victim, though I know I'm probably deluding myself. (I'm interested to see just what, if anything, Orange plans for her. I've always felt there was more to her perspective.) I like to think she's present too, in her own strange way, and not simply as part of Knives.

What do you think her opinion would be of these events? Of her brothers?

What choice do you think she would have made?

I, personally, suspect Tesla would have had powers both to bring and to take, just like Vash. I doubt his personality being destroyed and his body brutally exploited to access those powers (never mind the purpose they're accessed to fulfil) is a plan she would want any part of, whatever her opinion of humanity. I think Knives had no idea what he invited upon himself making contact with the Core, something that exists outside of time. I think Tesla and Vash are both stranger and more existentially terrifying beings than even he imagines.

Knives baptised his brother in order to make him fit to receive divinity - and in Christianity, divinity comes as three parts in one. Not two equal opposites, as Knives conceptualises himself and his twin, but a singular whole expressed as three aspects. Parent...

Child...

Spirit.

His plan worked perfectly. He could not have made a bigger mistake.

Having been baptised, having received the spirit, the answer finally comes to Vash, and the truth.

Whose side are you on? Who are you?

See, it's made a point in Stampede, more than before, that the twins are almost physically identical. The resemblance is close enough for them to be mistaken for each other, something which Knives exploits. Even spending so much time so far apart, it seems inevitable that they influence each other. When one looks into the other's face, he sees his own reflection as in a mirror.

Though that almost never happens in the series. Knives and Vash almost never share the same eyeline.

They don't see eye-to-eye or face-to-face. Not until the very end.

The English dub, the finale, the question Vash asks as he finally begins to cry - "Who are you?" There's a reason he asks the question in those words.

Roberto said it in the first episode in the scene where we met Vash as an adult, hanging in the desert. "This clown's the big bad Typhoon? Vash the Stampede… who are you?" (The first time Vash gets called a fool or a clown, and not the last.)

Vash isn't quite sure... or rather, doesn't know who it is that he should be, if not what he is now. He's only ever been a counterpart, either allied or opposed, to his brother, and Knives has made it very clear what he thinks of any attempts to be anything else.

The question Roberto asks is the question the whole series builds towards answering because Vash isn't certain there is an answer, without his twin.

Until the moment he sees his brother, really sees him, and finally realises... that is not his reflection. He can't see himself in this mirror. There's something missing. And if that isn't his reflection, then who is he, looking? Who is Vash?

Whose side are you on? Who are you?

Human or Plant? Gun or Superman? Darkness or light? Yin or yang? Water or fire, heaven or earth? Are you a spirit, or a body? A machine or a living thing? Daydream or nightmare? Monster or angel?

Both? Neither?

The answer he ultimately gives is... not choosing an answer. It's looking beyond the question and the assumptions that it carries; being truly free. Knives has no right and no means to dictate who it is Vash becomes, and he never did. The question he asks is meaningless, and the dilemma he presents is false.

There's no choice.

'Cause I'm Vash the Stampede.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

(1 Corinthians 13: 12-13)

The only true struggle is the struggle against oneself. And, at least in that moment, love wins.

[hexagonalhavoc]

Hi! This is my first ever request and I hope I'm doing it correctly (Sorry if I'm not). I really like your Inscryption works and was wondering if you could do one with the reader and P03 where the reader doesn't take injuries seriously and makes P03 worried and confused. (Again sorry if I'm not doing this right! Love your works!! <3)

Bolts and Bruises 

P03 x Reader

[Author’s Note: Hi and thanks for requesting! You did everything perfectly and I’m glad to know you like my work, I hope you like this one too! :D

⚠️ Mentions of blood, stitches, P03 is scared of reader dying in the future but this story has a good ending]

     P03 has gazed upon your being times, felt your hands on his exterior, and heard the imperfections of your voice. And yet it’s so easy for him to forget that you aren’t like him. You are a being who bruises and bleeds. 

     In the beginning of your relationship you would be berated every time you came back with the even the tiniest scratches on your arms. It would take him a while to cease his angry ramblings about how “reckless” and “stupid” you were for getting yourself hurt. 

     Of course your partner was always going to have a temper but he’s getting better at not directing it towards you. You can tell it’s a struggle for him but he’s trying to open up. To him, it feels wrong to be emotional but he doesn’t want to lose you because of his own pride. 

     You knew very well that your partner wasn’t fond of seeing your wounds. It unnerves him to see cuts in your flesh. Regardless, he insists on stitching up your deep cuts because: “your hands are too shaky to do anything so how can I trust you with a needle?” You admit that he does have a point about that. Somehow he’s able to hold the needle perfectly still within his claws and stitch up your arm cleaner than any professional surgeon can. 

     “You can stop if you want, I can wrap it up myself.” You offer as you slowly pull your arm away. 

     He’s trying his hardest not to look bothered at tending to your wound but you can tell that it’s not something he wants to be doing. His monitor is too expressive for him to be able to lie to you. It’s endearing how he tries to help despite how uncomfortable it makes him. You don’t have to tell him twice as his claw moves away from your arm. 

     You begin to wrap the thick bandage securely over your wound. You’re not one to wrap up your wounds but you know if you don’t your lover will throw a fit. His factory was not inhabited by a single germ within its metal confines and yet he was so worried over your wound getting infected. It’s always funny to you that people mistake him to be uncaring because you know that’s far from the truth. You don’t even think you’ve seen humans feel as deeply as he does and that’s why you deal with his overbearing nature. 

     “See? Good as new.” You lightly pat on the bandages surrounding your arm as you attempt to reassure him. 

     “Until you do something stupid again.” P03 retorts. It’s really not as malicious as it sounds. In fact, his issue is never about a scratch or bruise. It’s about a fear that it planted itself within his systems the moment he realized his feelings for you. 

    You were not made to last forever. Someday there’s going to be a wound that will leave its eternal damage. Your body will turn on you and the only thing he’ll be able to do is watch as time takes you away. When you put your hand on his screen and promise that you’ll always be by his side he knows it’s a lie. From the moment you were born, death had staked its claim on you.

     But it would be cruel to try and hide you away from the dangers of the world. It would be like never letting a machine fulfill its purpose. Even if it breaks down and becomes inoperable at least it did what it was created to do. He knows that you were created to experience the world. To enjoy the sun on your skin, to laugh, to cry, to feel pain. 

     But that doesn’t make knowing that your time is fleeting any easier. 

     “Well at least whenever I get hurt I can come to you.” You attempt to comfort him. You lean over the table to hold his claw with your hand, thumb gliding over the small ridges and dents within the metal. “I know you’ll always be there for me and that’s makes any sort of pain hurt less.” 

     The claw tightens around your hand but not to an uncomfortable degree. You make it so hard to feel anything negative when you speak like that. It’s so easy to forget about what cruelties the future has in store. 

     It’s near impossible to see but there’s a tiny camera on his exterior. P03 wonders how much pictures and videos he can take of all your sweet moments together until his memory card is full. He’s never been a sentimental person but you’re worth being forever preserved within his systems. 

     Deep down he knows that he’ll never really lose you. Everyone leaves some sort of mark on the world and you’ve left one on him. He’ll carry the memories and the things you have given him until he withers away to time as well. 

     “Now that my arm is wrapped up I wanna try playing with my new card.” You pull something out of your pocket and set it down on the table. 

     “At last! Stimulation!”

[wanderingxiao]

-My Goddess-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~ 

SPOILERS FOR SUMERU’S ARCHON QUEST BEWARE

Summary: Scaramouche brings you to Sumeru to have you witness his birth as a god, but he didn't plan for your reaction...

Pairing: Fatui! Scaramouche x Female Reader

Warning: Spoilers for Akasha Pulses Archon quest, foul language, god complex Scara, unprotected sex, Scara is nice but mean, degradation, creampie, and little bit of angst and fluff.

Word Count: 5.6K (How tf did this get so long)

Enjoy~

“Look at them, (Y/N)! All those tiny insects… building my chamber where I shall rule over them.” The silver blade that was normally referred to as the balladeer’s tongue was ever so gentle and caring as he gazed upon the contexts of the scholar’s creation. His pale skin shined underneath all the lights, arms outstretched marveling at the glorious creation. The mechanized machine loomed over you both, your place next to the Balladeer forever being cast out by his own shadow. He was an incredibly selfish individual. His goals were never to bring you with him in his accession into godhood. A small pawn on his chess board to dispose of. “Isn’t it magnificent? Everyone, is preparing for my birth into this world, as a god!” His tongue dripped with venomous anticipation, poisoning you to praise him, worship him, and bow before his feet like the underling you now realized you were. “Are you going to stare gawking or are you going to congratulate me on finally achieving godhood after centuries of careful planning?”

“I’m sorry, My Lord. Forgive me for my lack of words.” Your response clearly did not do much for his souring mood upon not receiving your praise. He turned his body towards you, the jingle of the bells on his hat chiming at his slow steps towards you. Your composure remained unchanged in the presence of The Balladeer, his cold expression having no effect on your heart. “Are you not happy that I am finally fulfilling my purpose for being created? I have my heart, and I will use my newfound strength… to rule over the insects of this world that grovel beneath me.” He stopped in front of you, dark lavender eyes gazing directly into your eyes that were unfortunately cast downwards. You knew he was looking, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, remaining silent instead. This only seemed to anger The Balladeer more. “What’s troubling you? Is there something you dislike about the design? I will have it changed if that is what you want.”

“…What I want, Lord Scaramouche?” The tremble in your voice was evident, there was no hiding anymore exactly how you felt in that moment. The upcoming god could easily pick up on your changed emotions, suddenly becoming stricken with anxiety. “I… I want you back.” It was plain and simple as that. Your first meeting with The Balladeer was nothing short of fate. It was a cold day In Snezhnaya, your village near the Fatui headquarters always patrolled and watched closely. Remembering how the cold snow felt on your bare feet would forever be ingrained in your brain from that day, along with finding The Balladeer practically frozen near a river. He was welcomed into your home for 3 days, secluded due to the raging blizzard that always took the lives of any who dared challenge its icy wind laced touch. “You’re… You’re changing. You’re starting to leave me behind. You… replaced me already.”

“Huh?” His cold tone only fueled the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, still recalling his harsh yet gentle nature as he resided in your home. He voiced his displeasure almost every minute, but he made no effort to walk out and take his chances with the vengeful blizzard. You learned a lot about him during those 3 short days. How he enjoyed bitter tea and despised anything sweet you had to offer him for dessert. The immense sorrow that lingered in his empty chest as he gazed over the stuffed animal in the house. The way he would become engrossed in reading about blade forgery, almost as if he had known about the art for centuries. And lastly, how much the all-powerful Fatui Harbinger detested insects. “What nonsense are you going on about? When did I ever give you the impression, I was every going to let you escape?”

“Just look at what you’re doing, Lord Scaramouche… you’re… ascending far beyond my reach anymore. It’s not a matter of trying to escape from you… you’re just starting to abandon me.” His breath hitched once those words left your soft lips. Never in his life did he ever think you would be saying those words to him. It was anticipated to be the other way around, but the tables had turned now. “You… praise Ms. Haypasia more than you do me…” That wasn’t true. Not to him anyways. You and that other human were completely different. She was just a mere follower, disposable, you were supposed to be by his side forever. “Even the way you look at this thing-“ You turned your head to look up at the machine that hung above. “-as if it’s your everything now. Your time with me has shortened, and the attention you once gave me has dwindled into but a small insignificant grain of dust… The gnosis, this machine… it’s your heart… I wished for you to gaze at me like that… I wished for you to stay with me until the world takes me… I wanted to be your heart.”

“No… that’s- that’s absurd!” His voice wavered just slightly, hands reaching out to grasp your arms, holding you tightly in his grasps. “You… You-“ The words kept getting caught in his throat as he tried to voice his conflicting emotions. After a few seconds of pondering for the right words, the thought died within his throat, choosing to remain silent. “I wish you… all the best, Lord Scaramouche. I’ll never forget my time with you. You will be in my thoughts always… and I’ll worship you until the day I die… I love you.” His breath caught in his throat hearing those words pass from your lips so carelessly. Throwing that phase out to him as if you weren’t about to leave him alone. His body was stiff when you suddenly placed your hands onto his cheeks, the feeling of your warm hands stunning him further. Your face was so close to his, he could feel your nervous breaths, almost hear your heartbeat hammering away at your ribcage. Your lips were soft against his own, moving gently against him even though he showed no sign of returning your affections.

Once you were gone from his touch, the world came crashing.

“You can’t leave. I forbid it.” You only gave him a sad smile, moving your hands off his cheeks. The attempt was quickly stopped by the harbingers intense grip slamming down onto your wrists to stop you. “I didn’t give you permission to leave. You are not allowed to leave my side.” His head was lowered, making it impossible for you to gaze into his dark lavender eyes and gauge exactly what he was feeling at this moment. You had an idea of what it was just by the way his hands trembled while holding you. “Lord Scaramouche, I hope you know I’m not betraying you like the others.” The grip he had on you tightened, his shoulders now trembling, still unable to gauge his emotions. You knew of his history as a puppet, and as the almighty electro archons creation. “I’m letting you go to achieve your purpose you’ve longed for. I won’t keep you grounded any longer. You’ve been through so much; you deserve this opportunity- “

“Then come with me! Let us both ascend together into godhood! Become my goddess. Rule by my side and stay!” The hurt in his voice was now clearer than ever. He was deeply troubled by your decision. To think you would ever consider leaving him drove him mad. All because of your selfless intentions not to hold him back? How absurd! Ever since he began seeing you more and more, he knew he could never let you go. That first kiss sealed his fate with you years ago. “L-Lord Sc-“ He lunged his hand forward to grab your mouth tightly, suppressing any words from coming out as he spoke. “You will be my goddess, whether you like it or not. We will become equals. Do not address me in that way again, or I will have to punish you.” Nodding quickly, your shaky fingers attempted to pry his tight grip off your mouth, slightly taken aback by his sudden outburst. A dark chuckle echoed in your ears when his lips came close to your ear. “Good… now there’s something I must take in order to properly claim you as my goddess. Something… I’ve wanted to do with you for so long.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips moved in slow motion in front of you.

“Your body.”

The sounds of machines in the background suddenly become more and more fuzzy as his demand came crashing onto your mind like a dozen bricks. The thrashing of your heart against your ribcage became more violent the more you imagined becoming one with Scaramouche. The relationship between you remained pure and innocent for a long time. The only thing you had ever done with him was hug him or give him a kiss on the head here and there and on very rare occasions give him a real kiss. To excel to something as serious as that? It was all too much for you to handle. You loved him. As much as you didn’t want to in the beginning you couldn’t help but fall in love with the Fatui Harbinger. Through his harsh acts and mean words, all he had ever wanted was to be loved and wanted. His walls broke when you indulged in his buried human desires.

“Kissing won’t be enough for me anymore. Once I finish claiming you… you will permanently be mine, to rule by my side forever, never to part from me. Doesn’t that sound nice? Bound to your god through body and soul. Is that what you want? Will that make you happy?” His questions were making your head spin. He knew the answers to his own questions though, it was all a means to influence you further. You didn’t need to respond to tell him how much you longed to be by his side. “It was idiotic to think you could simply leave after all we’ve been through. Even if you wanted to without such a selfishly selfless reason such as that…” His voice trailed off, slowly letting go of your mouth and replacing his cold hand against your neck, squeezing lightly. “Listen close, I will not repeat this.” He called, leaning towards your ear. His breath was hot despite his body being frigid. You shifted in his grasp, swallowed thickly before he spoke. “I love you too.”

“S…Scaramouche?” Your voice was soft and almost like a faint whisper whisked about by the clattering noise around you. That was the first time he had ever admitted such feelings towards you. His cheeks were a soft pink, scowling at you and himself in disgust over his emotionally human confession. He didn’t give you another second to speak or breathe before he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. In an instant, you melted into his touch, your shaky uncertain hands coming to rest against his cold cheeks, nimble fingers edging closer and closer to his indigo locks. His hair was incredibly soft, so perfect to run your fingers through and pull. His hands came to your waist, pulling your lower body against his. His tongue slipped, parting your lips to rub against your teeth, ordering you to open your mouth for him. You obeyed him, letting him completely consume you. “M-Mmm… Scara-Mph!”

One of his hands came to grab your hair, pulling your head back until he was holding you against him, leaning you back to appropriately dominate you. Your arms wrapped around his neck quickly, scared of falling but knew he would never let you go. His tongue darted inside your mouth, swirling around your mouth in needy passion. His teeth clanked against yours as he pushed himself deeper, his tongue reaching the deepest parts of your mouth. Precious oxygen was beginning to become necessary, but you didn’t want to pull away from his blissful and loving touches. A low groan echoed into your mouth being swallowed by your small gasp of air before he closed you off again with his lips. You could feel yourself beginning to get weak in your knees, slowly falling to the floor while Scaramouche kept you close to him. He parted from you finally, a string of saliva connecting your tongues until he licked it away and swiped his tongue over his lips.

“Already weak from one kiss? Hah, how pathetic you truly are. It’s a nuisance that you’re human, that’ll change in due time if you’re going to be my goddess.” You didn’t understand what he had meant by those words, but you did know that your remaining strength dropped once he gazed into your eyes with a powerful, dominating lust. God were his eyes just hypnotizing. His gaze followed to all the workers in the large area, irking him further as he realized he had been too distracted by you. “Hey! All you pests! Get out!” His voice was booming and loud, his tone laced with toxic authority that should not be dared challenged. The workers all looked confused and exchanged glances, further angering the ascending god. “Are you all deaf? I said, get the fuck out!” The workers scurried away in fear, leaving all their tools, and exiting the area. He turned back towards you, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. “Come, my goddess.”

“Y…Yes, Scaramouche.” You shakily rose, clambering into his arms as he drug you up into the chamber of the machines head. It was sparkling red, its contents almost like you were floating into space. He swished his hand out, the machine face closing behind you, trapping you inside with the godly creation of an archon. As soon as those doors were closed, his lips were on yours again, this time more desperate and needy. His hands were trailing up and down your body, exploring his inexperienced hands over every curve and crevice that your body hid. A sigh left his lips into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of how soft and smooth your breasts were. “Tsk. Childe is always chattering about how pleasant these feel… damn idiot was right about one thing for once.”

His hands continued to knead and squeeze your breasts, getting rougher each second hearing your soft sighs of pleasure. “Yeah? You like that don’t you? So filthy.” His lips curled and arched into a grin, his perfect teeth showing just how amused he was at how much you were loving his touch. It gave him a confidence boost. Truth be told he’d never done anything like this either, only read about from human books or got lectured about it from Childe or La Signora. “Yes, Scaramouche… it… it feels good.” He gave a raspy laugh, narrowing his eyes as you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing as you could only focus solely on the way his hands kneaded you. He took this invitation and leaned forward, his hot breath fanning over your delicate skin before sinking his teeth into you. He pushed you back against one of the walls, one hand slamming against it while his other continued to squeeze and grope. “Mmm! Wait-! Ngh…”

��No one gave you permission to talk back to your god. So hush, and be a good girl for me. Even your fragile body can do so much as that can’t it?” His voice was low and husky, his tongue slowly moving over the indentions in your flesh made by his teeth. A shiver slipped through your spine at the cool feeling of his salvia colliding with the cool air, your back arching into his greedy hands. Both his hands came and started to tear at your shirt, the sound of fabric ripping echoing in your ears that made your heart rate increase. He fumbled with the clothing that didn’t come off right away and yanked it off you, tugging and pushing your body to and from him. Once your shirt was completely off, he started to wander his eyes up and down your body, his cheeks a soft pink as his virgin eyes soaked in every bit of your untouched, pure skin. “Wow… if I had known that your body was this beautiful, I would’ve taken you for myself a long time ago. Haha, not as if I would let you go to begin with.”

“S-Scara… s-stop staring please, it’s embarrassing…” Your head turned to the side, squeezing your eyes closed trying not to focus on his hard gaze over your half-naked form. A low growl rumbled through his chest, his hands grabbing ahold of your waist tightly and leaning forward to aggressively kiss and bite your neck. “There you go again, ordering me around. Must I put you in your place the hard way?” He took a firm step forward, trapping you completely against his chest and the wall. You could only pant in response, whimpering in embarrassment as you urged your hands not to cover yourself. His head craned down, his eyes now intently staring at the gorgeous sight of your cleavage, fleshly mounds almost falling out of your bra from how they were pushed against his chest. “Let’s take this off and see the real thing, shall we?”

“O-Okay…” You pushed forward a bit, leaning into Scaramouche while his cool fingers traced up your back to find the clasps of your bra. His nimble fingers fumbled slightly, cursing under his breath trying to get the damn thing unclasped. Once he finally got the clasp undone, he pulled the back forwards, the straps adorning your shoulders becoming loose. “Shaking already? I’ve barely touched you yet.” You hadn’t even realized you were shaking until he made it known to your flushed ears. You were incredibly nervous. “There’s no need to worry so much, my dear goddess.” His hands wandered up your arms, lightly grasping the straps before pulling them down and letting your bra drop to the floor. Your hands twitched harshly upon feeling bare in front of him, the urge to cover up becoming increasingly more prominent. “Your god will take real good care of you. I’ll make sure you feel the best you ever have in your entire pathetic mortal life.”

“Y…Yes, sir.” You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks instantly flushing realizing he was staring intently at you. The deep pits of his irises lulled you in to fall deeper into the endless hole of desire and love. His eyes lowered to your bare chest, his own smooth cheeks becoming pink in surprise and embarrassment. He was starstruck. The beautiful curves and swells of your breasts were mesmerizing to him, and let’s not skip over the fact your nipples were cute and erected for him. He tested the waters of this new experience, pinching your nipple between his index and thumb, awaiting your response. A whimper fell upon his mechanical ears, his body urging him to do more for you. His fingers rolled the erect bud, causing your body to arch into his touch, a quiet moan resonating from your swollen lips. He groaned lowly at the noise. “Fuck… that’s hot. Give me more. Submit yourself to me, completely.”

His lustful actions continued, rolling and pinching your nipples while his eyes stared Intensely at your expressions, watching each and every twitch and wince of pleasure. He quickly found himself now addicted to making you feel good. Your sweet noises caused by his hands was such a turn on for him. Once he was done with your chest, he moved down to your hips, rubbing your hips soothingly before hooking his slender fingers around your panties and pants and pulled them down swiftly. A harsh shake shuddered through your body feeling more exposed before him. Of course, you’d never done anything like this before. It was all so embarrassing. For Scaramouche, it was all new and exciting. Seeing your voluptuous body on display for him, completely bare and vulnerable for him to pray on.

“You look so humiliating standing here, shaking before me. It looks as if your legs are about to give up on you.” He mused, lips curling into a sly and cocky smile watching you quiver beneath him. His dark lavender eyes trailed up and down your body, quietly admiring all your natural beauty. He couldn’t help but stare down at your nether regions, accented by tufts of swift curls. His hand came slowly, his slender fingers running over your upper thigh slowly. Your back arched in his cool touch, lip catching between your teeth trying not to cover up or run away from him. The thin digits of his hand slid across your thigh to run his finger down the middle of your folds, feeling the lewd slick that had started to gather and threaten to drip onto the floor. “It’s all wet and slippery down here. How lewd of you. Maybe I was wrong about you, maybe you are a dirty girl after all, hmm?”

“N-No… It’s… it’s because of you.” His eyes glimmered with lust hearing your confession, body involuntarily shuddering. He could feel a faint pulse in his shorts. It was at that moment he secretly thanked his creator for at least one damn thing. A dick to give you a nice, good fucking with (she really just wanted him to look as real as possible). The puppet grinned watching your shy eyes shift to meet his in a long and loving gaze, tainted with hints of lust. He leaned forward slowly not to startle you and captured your lips in an oddly soft and passionate kiss. Your body instinctively relaxed upon feeling his embrace, allowing him to slip his fingers up and inside. Your back arched into him, suddenly becoming tense and breaking the passionate kiss your lover initiated. “Ngh… f-feels weird, Scara…”

“Y-Yeah, it’s fucking tight.” His once confident voice was wavering as his finger was clenched tight by your hot gummy walls. The puppet experimented with his finger as he moved it around, feeling your cunt’s curvy walls and tight squeeze. “S-Scaramouche… Hmm.” He watched your expression closely before he added a second finger. You gave a pitiful cry of discomfort upon his second finger being added. His body shuddered, hips bucking forwards desperate to feel something, it was beginning to get painful. He used his non occupied hand and shyly placed your hand against the bulge poking out from under the metal plate that guarded his hips. The ascending god shuddered in ecstasy upon the light contact, a low growl emanating from his chest. “Touch me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

“Mmm, Scara, I-it’s so… so hard.” A quiet mewl left your lips when your hand hesitantly started to rub and squeeze against the tip of his cock. Scaramouche moaned lowly against your face, a flurry of curses leaving his lips once you got more confident with him. If you were to get confident with him why not he do the same? He started thrusting his fingers into your core, his slender digits reaching deeper and deeper with every movement. You both were moaning into each other’s face, your hot breaths adding fuel to the already out of control fire of desire. “Fuck I need this. I need you.” Your lover pulled his fingers out, admiring the lewd fluid on his digits. You gasped once his fingers left, your cunt squeezing at nothing, disappointed at the loss of his fingers. A harsh clank echoed in the red sparkling space around you as Scaramouche removed the metal plate adorning his hips. “Strip me. Use your pretty shaking fingers and take off everything.”

His word was law. You began running your fingers over his chest, carefully removing the electro symbol that usually gleamed in the light against his chest. You stripped him carefully until all that was left was his shorts. The bulge was clearly now present, showing you just how big it was. His skin was so smooth without blemish or scar or scrape. His complexion was utterly perfect. He was crafted for godly hood after all. “Well? Go on. Take ‘em off. I did tell you everything didn’t I? Or is your head to far in the clouds to even comprehend your god’s order?” You shook your head before you carefully slid down the shorts that adorning Scaramouche’s thin hips. The harsh thumping of your heart echoed within your ears meeting his erect member, standing tall and proud. Your eyes shifted up to him, blushing more seeing how red his face was too. “Scara-“

“Shut up and turn around.” He roughly turned you around and grabbed your hips, pulling your ass back against his hard erection. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth feeling the touch of his length against you. His hands wandered up your back to carefully grab your hair, pulling your head back to place kisses against your shoulder and neck. “Are you ready for the main event? To become my goddess and rule by my side? Tell me.” He pulled a little harder, his voice attempting to sound dominant and hungry but only coming out as desperate and a bit nervous. A faint affirmation left your tongue, leaving the godly puppet to hastily locate your entrance with the tip of his engorged cock. “Good girl.” The tenderness of his lip caught between his teeth once he found it, slowly pushing it in before looking up to watch your reactions.

A wince escaped onto your expression, the stretch of his length in your inexperienced hole becoming overwhelming. His eyes continued to watch you closely, his grip on your hair loosening when he dropped his hand down to your hip. He could see the way your jaw clenched, the way your eyes scrunched, and it sent a flurry of panicked thoughts through his mind. He never intended to hurt you. He had heard this was supposed to be a pleasurable act, something that would deepen your relationship and make it nearly impossible for you to leave. Even though the puppet had lived through centuries, he was still a bit naive. His hips halted, hands lightly caressing you in fear that you might pull away from him.

“Hey… If you’re in pain say so. Don’t be a stubborn brat.” You shook your head and turned to gaze lovingly into his eyes with a smile. His face bloomed in a light shade of red. “P-Please continue, Scaramouche. I want you too.” He gave you a glare, tender lips turning into a deep frown out of embarrassment of your actions. He leaned forward to kiss you again, his body urging him to seal his lustful acts with a loving kiss to solidify your bond to him. He pushed his hips up until his groin was flush against the plushness of your butt. A whine of pain came to his ears, only pushing him to please you more with his lips. The tight squeeze of your velvety walls had his mind clouded in ecstasy. The temptation to begin bucking his hips into you at a ruthless pace becoming all the more irresistible. “Scara-“

“I know. Shut up and keep kissing me.” Your lips came back to his, your mouth open to allow his tongue to mark and claim you once more. You could feel him slowly pulling his length out, making you feel empty inside before he suddenly thrust his hips back inside. A quiet cry of pain fused with pleasure echoed from your throat, your lover grunting in response to the tight squeeze around his length. Your fragile mind couldn’t choose what it wanted to focus on. The way Scaramouche’s tongue easily pulls you into him or the possessive way he begins to buck his hips to push his cock to the deepest parts of your pussy. It was all so overwhelming you couldn’t help but mindlessly moan and sigh at each thrust of his hips and flick of his tongue.

“That’s it, hah, good girl.” The praise of your god sent goosebumps down your spine, the urge to gaze into eyes while he claims you urging you to attempt to turn around. He stops you quickly and pushes your shoulder harshly to keep your face away from seeing him. “Stop moving and -ngh- just enjoy what I’m giving you, hah.” Truth was he didn’t want you to see what kind of expression he was making. His brows were furrowed, cheeks a lovely shade of pink with heavy pants coming from his swollen lips. He himself was beginning to get lost in the tender squeeze of your cunt around his cock. He had never experienced something that felt so good, he would definitely find himself getting addicted to this feeling. “P-Please -mm!- wanna see you, Scara.”

“Tsk! Fine, if it’ll stop your whining.” Before you knew it, an empty feeling engulfed you before you were spun around and shoved up against the wall by your lover. He lips met yours harshly before he sheathed himself back inside, almost knocking the air out of you at the sudden action. He ruthlessly thrust his hips against yours, lewd noises coming from below you as your sexes collided again and again. A musky smell enveloped the small space of the crimson galaxy that surrounded. The sound of your sweet moans filled the former Fatui Harbinger’s ears, spurring him to become rougher and more possessive in his actions of love making. The feeling of the mushy head of his cock kissing the entrance of your cervix sent you spiraling into the depths of lust.

“Feels good, Scara, ahhh, feels so good.” Your lover’s indigo hair brushed over your forehead as he pressed against you, his deep lavender eyes burning holes into your soul from his heated, obsessive gaze. Scaramouche sighed in bliss against your face, his indigos brows furrowing while he continued to quicken his pace. “Fuck, it feels fucking ama- ngh!- amazing! You like it don’t you? Shit… like when your god makes you good like this? Yeah? Huh? Hah, hah, answer me!” Lust dripped off every word of his sharp tongue. You could only cry a feeble ‘yes’ with a meek call of his name. The lewdly wet sounds of his hips snapping against yours increased, your walls becoming tighter around his pulsing cock. “S-Scara! Hmm! Wait! Something- Somethings coming! P-Pull out!”

“Come undone for me. Ngh, yes, yes- damnit!” His thrusts began to become sloppy and mismanaged, hot and heavy pants coming out of your sexy lover. Your hands raked down his back, clawing at his skin for something to cling onto while a tight feeling began to build in your lower abdomen. Scaramouche’s hands pressed your hips against the wall, ramming his cock as deep as he could, holding you in place. His face buried into your neck, moaning uncontrollably as he neared his sweet release. “Scara, Scaramouche, p-please! Hmm!! Can’t hold it! It’s co- Ahh!” Your warning for him was cut off by a loud moan as you felt the previous buildup of pleasure snap in your abdomen. Scaramouche felt your walls tighten around him and your climax splattering onto his groin.

“Fuck!” His head fell to your chest, letting out a loud moan before giving one firm and harsh thrust inside before he could feel his length twitching, releasing all his sticky seed inside you, overflowing to the point it started to come out of your connected sexes. You both were panting heavily, holding each other tightly as you attempted to calm down from the immense emotions and feelings you both had undergone. A wave of drowsiness washed over your form, your legs numb and heavy, eyelids becoming droopy. “S-…Scara?” The god lifted his head to gaze at your tired expression. A quiet huff slipped through his nostrils as he carefully pulled out of you, a mixture of your sinful fluids splattering to the floor. You let out a soft whine at the empty yet full feeling down there. Scaramouche held you tight, supporting you and your weak state to sit against the floor, pulling some of your clothes over to cover you up. “Tsk… look how weak you’ve become after just one round. We’ll have to change that.”

“You’ve… done this before?” The pure look of disgust on his face let you know that that was not the case. He gave you a soft glare, flicking your head at your stupid accusation. “Are you stupid? No. Reading and having to babysit Childe and listen to his bratty bantering taught me more than I cared to know… but I guess it came useful after all.” You gave a sleepy smile and a small laugh, laying your head into his chest. You felt safe in his arms. Out of all the horrible things Scaramouche has done, you knew deep down that he would never even imagine hurting you. He would always protect you. “Sorry… and I’m sorry about the things I said… I just… want what is best for you, Scaramouche. You truly do deserve the best.” There was a comfortable silence that followed your apology, your lover contemplating how he should respond.

“…you really are stupid, you know that?” He gave a frustrated and annoyed sigh and pulled you closer to his thin frame, embracing you with a flustered blush on his cheeks. A soft hum came from your place on his chest, your body slowly succumbing to your drowsiness, but not before you proclaimed your love one last time. “Thank you… Scara. I love… you…” Once Scaramouche could hear your soft breathing and faint snoring, he gave a quiet sigh and lifted his gaze up to the crimson galaxy of the mechanical mask you both were confined in. He felt like his chest was about to burst open, body on fire, lips twitching uncontrollably as he held back a gentle smile, something he wished to show you. One day… when the entire world is at his feet, and the people of Teyvat worshipped only him, he would show you that gentle side of himself. When he knew it was safe.

“I… love you too, stupid idiot.”

“Are you deaf, or just stupid?”

-Scaramouche

[jasontoddsotherhalf]

A Short Simon Snow Character Analysis:

"Simon needed time. He needed care. He still startled at bright lights and sudden noises. And prolonged eye contact. He'd get jumpy when we were alone together." (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 85)

"On the worst days, on the even worse nights, I used to think about all the bad things that have happened to Simon– just the ones I know about. And then I'd wonder about all the terrible things that have happened to him that I DON'T know about. Twenty years of bad things. How long would it take for those painful memories to die back?" (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 86)

Simon is genuinely one of the saddest chosen ones I've ever read about, and I feel like its ignored by the fandom a lot. Like the book series is always portrayed as funny and light hearted and it is sometimes but at the root it's sad and heart wrenching. However, it's also really creative and has a tone of parallels and connections and like the whole concept of the chosen one fulfilling his purpose and no longer being needed anymore isn't used often. A lot of the times the Chosen one's issues aren't even addressed at ALL its just "Oh he went through a lot as a child but the bad guy is dead now and he got the girl (or guy) so it's fine, he's happy"

Simon was used by everyone his whole life. The Mage, the rest if the world of mages, even Penny and Agatha a bit too, (which Penny realizes and admits in AWTWB). Simon was left as a child at an orphanage where we really don't know much about his life, because he doesn't know much either. In Wayward Son, Simon talks to his therapist about not remembering a lot before he was 11 and she says the brain blocks out things that have traumatized or hurt us in the past. When Simon is 11 and comes to Watford, he speaks so little the teachers have to give him private lessons, and when that doesn't work he gets a speech therapist. A few other details a are given as well such as how Simon jumped from orphanages and Foster homes. All these allow us to infer that he didn't have a good childhood, and stuff probably happened to him.

The Mage becomes Simon's only father figure, and even then Simon says he never felt like a father. The Mage treated Simon like a weapon, and even lied to him about being his father. The Mage could have made things much easier for himself by raising Simon, but he chose to just leave him till he was 11 because he didn't feel like raising his own kid. "Maybe it's part of what the Mage did to me. He said he got me wrong, that I was a cracked vessel. I can't hold on to anything good." (AWTWB pg 65) the Mage only payed attention to Simon when it benefited him. Simon was an object to him, and if you remember in Carry On, it was obvious to literally everyone but Simon, who didn't want to believe he was being manipulated. It turned him into a killing machine.

Often times I feel as if the fandom portrays Simon as some talkative goofball, but that's completely ignoring his character. Simon says in Carry On that he doesn't think because in the end he just does what people tell him too. But that's not true. He does think, all the time, he just pushes away the stuff he doesn't want to think about, thinking about other things to muffle out these unwanted thoughts. Baz also says in Carry On that most conversations with Simon are just Simon shrugging. We feel as though Simon talks a lot because when it's his POV he's always rambling, but this is because Simon has a strong inner monolouge.

Simon had no adult figures in his life to lean on. Every character had someone, despite their maybe complex relationships. Baz has Fiona, and the two are close despite the tension and arguing. Penny has her mom and dad, despite their differences, they all love each other a ton. And Agatha has her parents, who do care about her. Simon never has a firm foundation. Not the Mage, Penny's mom barley likes him, Agatha's family only treats him well because he's the chosen one and dating Agatha, and Baz's family straight up despises him. Everyone else also has friends to lean on too, once you get later into the series. Agatha has a Ginger and even Penny, Penny has Baz and Shepard, Baz has Dev and Niall whom he chooses to sort of ghost, but also Penny. And they all have Simon. But I couldn't help but notice that whenever Simon tried to communicate, he was shut down.

Simon is bad at communicating. They all address this multiple times. But it's the fact that his friends don't even have faith that he'll survive. Multiple times from all POVS it talks about how everyone expected Simon to die, and they're all talking about how they would feel and how it affects them knowing that, but no one ever asked Simon. And Simon is aware of this too, but he just once again ignores it. No one wants a hero who's scared to die for his cause. Simon is shit at communication, but he has his own ways of showing that at least something IS wrong, that Penny and Baz have learned how to read, yet ignore when it's not convenient. Baz and Penny take Simon on a trip out to America, but it wasn't about Simon. Penny had ulterior motives, to see Micah and Agatha. Then the whole situation happened there, and though obviously Baz had nothing going on with Lamb, it clearly made Simon insecure and upset. But Baz just gets annoyed at him for it instead of trying to figure out the root of the issue.

A scene that always irked me in WS is the one where Simon comes back with his hair cut, after months of neglecting it because of his depression. And Baz says nothing, because he's too busy feeling sorry for himself. This may have seemed like a small thing but Simon literally couldn't leave the couch, for almost a year. His self hatred and issues were so bad he couldn't get up. So he finally makes this step, cutting his hair, trying to get better...and Baz basically ignores it.

Another thing is the end if WS when they're on the beach. Simon is trying to say how he feels, in his own way. That he isn't good enough for Baz, Baz should find someone else. And Baz just shuts him down, like he always does. Like he always does when Simon tries to communicate his feelings about being the chosen one, and what happened with the Mage. Then they get back to England, and Baz just acts like nothing happened. Simon shouldn't have ignored all his texts, and shouldn't have moved out leaving just a note, but he doesn't know how to communicate. No one taught him how to do this, all he knows is he needs to figure his shit out and no one currently in that situation, was really helping him.

I see a lot of people hating on AWTWB because Simon and Baz break up, because their relationship is admittedly toxic, and then get together the next day. But I think it makes perfect sense. They both love each other so so much, and they have an unhealthy attachment. Often with toxic relationships, especially when we love each other and want them to work out, we keep coming back in hopes of fixing things. Both boys have severe abandonment issues, and they don't want to loose each other.

I also see people hating on WS and AWTWB because Baz and Simon aren't all happy. Like legit, that is why I see those books getting the most hate. But it makes sense. People's pasts have an effect on them and how they behave. Simon killed the only father figure really he'd ever had. And he still doesn't understand the extent of abuse said man put him through. Simon doesn't know how to put himself first. Like when they're fighting the vampire's in WS, and simon is on the brink of death, he STILL stands up because that's what people have expected him to do all his life. Baz wants everything to be okay and happy and ignore their issues, because that's what they've done his whole life in his family, ignoring problems like him being a vampire. And what Simon desperately needs is to approach his, but he doesn't know how deep his issues run, except that he's a broken, fucked up, mess. He has ptsd, depression, and anxiety, and doesn't know how to help himself.

Overall, Simon's character holds a complexity that often times I see ignored. The story is romantic, and cute. I love Snowbaz as much as the next person. But you can't fully appreciate the story until you actually understand the depth of the characters, especially starting with Simon Snow.

Thank you, have a nice day <3

[victoriadallonfan]

I feel real stupid for not noticing the Teacher and Simurgh parallels, and why Wildbow chose to have them as Victoria’s Big Bads:

- Cockroaches 28.2

- Cell 22.3

- Dying 15.6

- Infrared 19.z

Teacher and the Simurgh represent the relationship of a Tyrannical & Unfair System, and Those Who Want to Be the System.

The Simurgh was built for the sole purpose of keeping the Shard Cycle running and has no emotion or care for its work, unlike Fragile One or Grasping Self who do care about the hosts. The Simurgh is quite literally a machine, a program, built by an oppressive force on humanity (the Entities).

Oppression is her very EXISTENCE.

Teacher is a man. He self proclaims himself as a mastermind who has flawless plans and who wanted to simply see how the world works. He cannot innovate or create himself, but he can lead those who do (unintended Elon Musk comparison there…). He claims that every goal of his, every act, and every terror strike is to save humanity.

But when you look at what he does with his power, what his true goal is, you understand that it’s all a lie.

Teacher doesn’t just copy the Simurgh’s playbook (pretending to be benevolent with their power but secretly mastering people, using pawns for terrorist acts, programming people to fulfill roles in their society) but he quite plainly want to Be the Entities. He planned on merging with his Shard and becoming a God, making the Cycle his (his Titan form is quite literally him blending himself into his Shard).

While this is all important to Victoria because she highly values individualism, consent, and human free will, it’s also important because Victoria also wanted to be part of a system.

True, it was a system of heroes, but it was a system that was clearly failing and throughout the run of Ward, Victoria keeps getting burned by this system. The heroes refuse to acknowledge or reward her efforts of saving the city or the world, they blame her for things outside her control, or they blame her when she saves them all.

And that’s not even getting into how her own actions have been self-harming as she tries to live up to heroic ideals instilled into her since birth.

By the time that Vic saves the multiverse (arguably for the second time), Victoria bluntly rejects a return to the system. She lays out how she needs to take a step back, listen to people who want to help her, and re-evaluate her goals in life. She even succeeds in getting the Wardens to look at their system and acknowledge that it has to change, and a small step could be made right then and there.

Victoria ends up - ironically enough - becoming a teacher (I’m sure that pissed Teacher off) and emphasizing to the younger generation about how empathy, honesty, and transparency are needed for helping with people going through mental health crises. That it should be about making them feel safe more than “winning”.

[ptr-sqloint]

also can i hear about your ocs and world building and take on angels because i love them

Thank you so much for asking :D! i have a LOT to say:

so!

angels in my world building : basically angels are an tools with a single specific purpose built into them, and not sentient in the same way people are.

That purpose can go from something simple and 'mundane' to more impressive / elaborate tasks. Some transmit information, some are there to protect people/places, some are basically the rules of the world/nature, some are cataclysms.

The form they take depends on the job they have, and there are a few angels that have a physical body.

there's no god in the sense of a guy or a higher will/power, but you could say that the machine that is all the angels together functioning as a system is a sort of god.

there's also different categorizations of angels depending on the scope and magnitude of their influence. kind of like the difference between the weather and climate.

in descending order of magnitude:

there's the laws, the phenomenons, the cataclysms, the guards, and the instances. a law would be gravity or light and and an instance is the kind of angel that would appear and relay a message.

now! there are also man-made angels. Sort of. to make an angel first you need a preexisting physical angel that you are going to deface and destroy in part to take the building parts of your own angel. While the rates of success are not very encouraging, it is possible to make something mostly functional. But watch out!

for example, radio as a means of communication would be a functioning man-made angel.

now for the rest of the world building:

the world is very slowly deteriorating just through sheer age and entropy

angels can't really die or be destroyed but they can be wounded gravely to the point of being unrecognizable , this is how you get fallen angels

some of that resulted in a form of magic: making an image of something makes it more likely for that thing to be true. The effect is basically negligible if you make , say, a painting; but it can be amplified by repetition ( so lots of duplicates of the same image ) and using certain materials for the images. the effect lasts as long as the image does.

i have three special little guys: Galahad, Camille, and Alice

Galahad is nobility and was brought up to be The Knight Of The Prophecy TM since he was very young and so is very learned about lore and magic and that sort of stuff. He's also trans but doesn't know it yet , and he's not actually The Knight(also doesn't know that). He wants very much to fulfill that role tho, and a lot of his conception of himself as well as his self esteem hinges on being able to play that role well. He has quite a short temper and gets easily frustrated.

(the Prophecy TM is something vague about someone doing something that would permanently halt the deterioration of the word. It's vague because it's One Very Old image with a massive amount of repetition all engraved at the same place so it's Very Much up to interpretation)

Camille is the actual Knight. He's also a trans guy. Him being The Knight means that he has a physical angel inside of him. In his body growing around his organs like a dendrogaster parasite (not a fun time for him) it talks to him and sometimes influences his actions/perception of the world. Camille thinks that sucks immensely and wants nothing more than to be rid of it and of his 'destiny'. Especially considering it's pushing him to do some bad stuff. Otherwise he's a pretty cool guy, a bit clumsy and incompetent at a lot of things, but he's sweet .and he works as a courier.

Lastly there's Alice , she is a robot who was constructed using the brain and nervous system of a criminal, that was then linked up and put in a machine made for fighting. After a while , it was deemed unusable because of various issues, and was decommissioned. The organic materials were disposed of and the machine left in a scrapyard. A while after ( like a few decades ) it was woken up without any memory of her previous life / time as a robot. Mostly. She gets brief impressions and scraps of her memory as time goes on. Basically It is a robot and/or the woman haunting it 👍

i wrote more stuff about her in the replies of this post