#HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF ''CREATING A CONFLICT AND THEN RESOLVING IT'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merakiui · 6 months

Text

long-distance love.

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

Sea Witch is a busy man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One day isn’t today, though.”

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

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

“Oh, you’ve kept track?”

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

“May I ask why?”

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

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

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

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

“You’ve never asked.”

“Can I have one now?”

“Nice try.”

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

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

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

“You’re probably not even that big.”

“Would you like an exact measurement?”

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

“Patience, angelfish.”

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

And then…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

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

“Guess.”

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

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

“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”

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

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

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

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already have—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”

He knows you don’t mean that.

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

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

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

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”

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

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

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

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

“Very well. Farewell for now.”

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

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

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

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

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

They’re all from you.

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

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

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

And then he arrives.

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

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

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

“CEO Ashengrotto?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?

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

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

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

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

“No… Please wait. Hold on!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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princessleechan · 3 months

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“Choi Seungcheol must die” Chapter 29 WRITTEN CHAPTER

Masterlist

📌chapter tags: SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, written chapter (1.6k w.c), conflicting situations, the final wrap, villian era!reader, haters

Thank you @wonwussy for helping me out a bit!

taglist: @silvsie @christinewithluv @stayinhellevator @aiforyuu @2youngsworld @justcruisingalonguntilbamkpop @asyre @simpxxstan @anzellll @hipsdofangirl @plskillme22 @lirtha97 @lixiel0ver @notevenheretbh1 @leah-rose03 @woozarts @expensive-idiot @doveblackboat @the-boy-meets-evil @tamakis-bbyy @freshdetectivenight @mrsdacherry @smilechannie @alltheshineofthestars-blog @ocyeanicc @horanghaezone @wonuqrtz @leewonkyeom @horangboosadan @kkooongie @myghobi @wonunuwoo @wonwootakemyheart @shuasunshine @dinonuguaegi @ckline35 @miriamxsworld @itsokaytobedumb00 @seokgyuu @nishloves @bmkgemz @conwunder @kawaiimusiccollection @humankimbap @huening-kawaii @writingbarnes @strawberryya

You stand several feet away from the breathtaking couple, unable to resist fixing your gaze upon them. Junhui and Haru are wrapped in each other's arms, creating an intimate scene as if the room exists only for them, their smiles emanating warmth and pure bliss.

If not for your emotions, you might marvel at the sight, but instead, a sense of despondency washes over you. Your gaze wanders, intensely fixed on their intertwined figures until the surroundings blur, like watercolors melding on a damp canvas. Once again, you feel like a mere backdrop, perpetually an observer, never the focal point. Meanwhile, they revel in their joy, achieving a happiness you long to grasp independently.

Before you know it, your feet carry you in their direction, a sense of disbelief settling in despite the joyous tweets on your timeline that you have been avoiding. The realization dawns that there was never a chance, rendering the many efforts you made utterly in vain.

That is until you feel an arm firmly wrap around your bicep, pulling you in their direction. Frantically, your eyes meet with a sympathetic Seokmin, who looks down at you with concern.

"Don't look," he softly instructs. "Just don't."

With his hand on your back, he gently guides you away from the situation, softly hushing you to soothe the unfathomable range of emotions coursing through your body. His voice, though soft and sweet, fades into the background as you choose to focus on the gentle stroke of his hand on your back, quelling the sobs that threaten to escape.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. I promise." You turn to look at him and see the doubt in his expression.

"Are you sure?"

You could melt beneath the gaze of his honey-coated eyes, the warmth helping you transition into a mood more serene than moments ago. However, you nod your head softly, gently pulling away from his tender touch.

"I need to find Seungcheol."

Momentary disappointment briefly grazes his face, swiftly before a resolved nod is met in your direction. "You got this."

You mouth a "thank you" before moving with determination to find the man of honor, deliberately steering clear of what had caused you distress earlier. As you scan the room for what feels like the first time, you recognize many faces you have only heard of but never seen in person. Seokmin has retreated to his friend group, while Mingyu is not too far away with his own circle, evidently not having resolved whatever ordeal they had faced.

Chan, however, appears to be nowhere in sight, possibly taking a breather after the sight you both witnessed. On the other hand, there's Boo Seungkwan, who winks in your direction with a drink in his hand, looking as smarmy as you always imagined. Your eyes glaze over him in subtle disdain, before they find the man bouncing in childlike joy.

His smile widens, reaching from ear to ear, as he sprints in your direction to envelop you in his arms, twirling you joyfully in the air. "You're here!"

You chuckle, feeling a hint of discomfort, gently pushing him away as you regain your footing. "Of course, it's your special night. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

His smile grows wider. “OK well you know Jeonghan and Josh up there on stage, Changhyuk and Hyungwon helping serve drinks, Yeonjun and Soobin are somewhere entertaining other people, I’m sure. Now that just leaves me and you.”

If you didn't know better, you might believe he was sincere. It seems as if he genuinely relishes sharing you with the world—his world—and perhaps he does. You are aware that this would make the plan even more effective. More humiliating. There is more reason for him to never inflict pain on another person again. That's why you have to keep going.

You accept his hand and interlock yours with his as he leads you up to center stage. A conveniently placed microphone comes to life as Seungcheol taps against its metallic head. Smiling, he announces, "Test one, test two. Can everyone hear me?"

The audience below erupts in a resounding "Yes!" as he proceeds to take the mic.

"Are you all having an amazing night?"

Their affirmation comes again, even louder this time.

"Well, tonight we are celebrating another one of our beautiful university’s achievements—the victory of our basketball team in the final games!"

They cheer, brimming with spirit.

"We take immense pride in having such invaluable members on our team. Even though I was announced MVP not too long ago, I can sincerely attest that every individual on this team is extraordinary and deserves this award just as much as I do."

He turns to you in a hushed manner, reciprocating the smile you wear for appearances, drawing closer to take your hand. “However, if I may be so selfish, I’d like to do something I’ve had my mind on for as long as it started.”

He endeavors to close the gap between you, ensuring you receive as much attention as he is garnering. "Throughout this year, I encountered someone incredibly special to me. Someone who undeniably alters my perspective on how I perceive the world. While there's still much to discover about her, there's nothing I'd like more than to demonstrate how much I value her, just as much as I value anyone on my team."

As the melody envelops the surroundings, gradually intensifying as it draws nearer, you discern the enchanting tunes of the college orchestra, featuring woodwinds and delicate string instruments. They gaze back at you with expectant eyes, weaving a musical tapestry of grace and elegance. Seungcheol, with sincerity emanating from his eyes, clasps his hands together and extends one before you as an earnest offering. "Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

You take a deep breath, pressing both palms against your chest. A weight lifts, and it seems like you step into a scene from a film. Initially unsure how to react, you stumble, forgetting your purpose, until you catch a glimpse of them–the couple that stirs a twinge of jealousy--staring back at you like a spectacle.

As you finally cast a glance back at Seungcheol, regaining a foothold in reality, you make your way towards him. You clasp your hands together, exhaling through your nose the heat festering inside you. “Wow, I don’t know what to say…except maybe: why would I ever want to be with someone as pathetic and intolerable as you?”

As if a taut string has suddenly snapped, the entire performance comes to an abrupt halt. The one who has just confessed now wears a bewildered expression in response to your unexpected reaction. "…What?"

You scoff. “Did you actually think that you had even the slightest chance that we’d be together? Do you think I would subject myself to that? To someone like you?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he stammers, “Wait, I did this all—“

As you gaze at him, your attention is momentarily diverted by Junhui, who stares back at you, his expression mirroring the puzzlement and confusion evident in the room. "I can't stand you. Not a single damn part of you."

Descending the stairs of the stage, your movements convey a mix of determination and finality. "Wait, Yn, please. Tell me what I—"

With a decisive turn, you face him once more to deliver your parting words. “Never try contacting me again. We’ll waste both of each other's time and you’ve already wasted so much of mine.”

You gracefully exit the stage, and the crowd involuntarily parts to make way for your bold departure. However, amid the polite shuffling, you can't ignore the subtle undercurrent of disdain in the soft mutters that accompany your exit. Dark-eyed glances, filled with a mixture of surprise and disapproval, follow you as you make your way through the dispersing audience.

As you walk away, the murmurs linger like a haunting melody, a symphony of disapproval and whispered judgments. It's evident that the spectators exchange more than just casual remarks; there's an air of collective distaste that seems to swirl around your name.

Out of their immediate view, a wave of relief washes over you, and you feel as though you can finally breathe. Unbeknownst to you, your buzzing phone in your purse signals the concern of your other conspirators, each message a thread of support woven into the complex fabric of the night. With a nervous swallow, you tightly shut your eyes, momentarily escaping the weight of the situation and entering the cool breeze of the outdoors.

"Hey." Your eyes scan the surroundings until they home in on the source of the voice, eventually meeting a pair of red eyes framed by tear-stained cheeks. The weight of unspoken emotions lingers in the air, creating a palpable atmosphere that envelops you both.

You release a shallow breath, a disbelieving smile playing on your face. "That's where you were hiding, huh?"

Chan shrugs his shoulders while resting against a pillar, unfolding his arms, and a soft laugh of surrender escapes his lips. "I didn't want to hear about it, let alone see it in front of me."

"We're both going through it, I guess." A solitary warm streak leaks out of the corner of your eye, and you let it fall, embracing the wall behind you.

He observes in a momentary silence, as though seeing his reflection in a mirror for the first time—realizing the shared sadness and pitiful state of both himself and you. "Do you…" he starts to ask, sniffing timidly, self-conscious of his emotional state, "wanna get out of here?"

"…Yeah."

Your hand slips into his with a sense of urgency, a desperate clutch seeking solace. Feet hurriedly fall in step as you follow him, driven by an eagerness to escape the tumultuous emotions lingering in the air. Regardless of how this night unfolds, the only certainty is the shared desire to flee. You know it couldn't get worse than this.

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wedreamedlove · 11 months

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The Depth of his Feelings - Evan Character Study

I am going to open this essay with a shocking sentence: Evan is an unreliable narrator.

One of the most magnetic traits Even has as a character is his resolve about his goals, even if it conflicts with his personal desires. This trait has led some people to misunderstand him and think he doesn't love the heroine until Chapter 17 and that he was just using her this entire time. Surprise! These two facts are not mutually exclusive, you can love and use someone at the same time.

(P.S. Every time I think about Evan's romance with his heroine, I think of Margaret Atwood's poem "A truth should exist, it should not be used like this. If I love you—is that a fact or a weapon?").

So, here I am going to tell you that Evan has been falling for the heroine ever since they first met and that it's just his ability to be stunningly ruthless (to his enemies and to himself) that created the "tragedy" of Chapter 16.

First though, I will prove that Evan is an unreliable narrator.

[SSR Illusionary Light - 11 Years Ago Late Autumn TRAJECTORY]

Evan: Every time I come to see you, it always seems to be raining. Evan: I heard it was also a thunderstorm the night I was born. Evan: That Guang Qi City had never experienced such a large storm for many, many years. Evan: At the time, you were alone in the hospital. You must have been very scared. Evan: Later, I often wonder whether or not this counts as a sign from God, that in fact I shouldn't have been born. Evan: That way we would have all been a little freer, and I wouldn't owe you anything. Evan: You wouldn't have had to suffer in silence and you could have left this household unencumbered, returning to who you were before. Evan: Your life would surely have been much better than now. Evan: I saw your past photos and many of them had smiles. Evan: It's a shame I never saw you smile. Evan: I know, you actually never loved me much, most of it was out of responsibility. Evan: I could see it. Evan: But you were the person who treated me best in that household. Evan: ... Mama, even now you must still hate me, right? Evan: All these years and you've never once come into my dreams. Evan: If that day I didn't insist on playing in the back courtyard, would this incident not have happened? Evan: I knew the path was icy, that it was very slippery and unsafe. Evan: Why does fate love to play with people? A person who doesn't want to live can always avoid death, while a person who wants to live ends up dead. Evan: It would have been best for everyone if the person who had drowned was me, right? I'm really not afraid.

At 15 years old, we see that Evan has been under the impression that his mother never loved him. This belief continues to the present and you can see it whenever he talks about his past or thinks about the concept of love. However, in Chapter 14, we are given another perspective.

[CHAPTER 14-5]

Letter: "Little Lang, I'm very sorry for how many creases this letter has." Letter: "My son has been very interested in origami recently and every paper in the house has suffered his ravage." Letter: "He's especially skilled at folding animals, so I asked him to fold a robin to be sent with this letter." Letter: "He knows I like to stay in my room and set the finished paper bird on the windowsill outside before leaving. Before I knew it, he's already grown this tall." Letter: "These are all irrelevant words. Thank you for your concern in the last letter, I'm living very well and I hope that you and my son will always be healthy and safe." The date was earlier than Evan's letter just now and the letter was signed by Robin. This was a past reply! Maybe too much time had passed, because I could no longer feel the emotions attached to it. But a gentle smile still appeared before my eyes, along with a woman who couldn't help but write these words as she watched her child do handcrafts below her windowsill. Did Evan not see that there was this reply? I stopped walking.

In truth, his mother did love him... it's just that things are complicated, such as how her relationship with Evan's dad deteriorated and how she forced a young Evan to practice the cello until his fingers bled or that she cared more about helping the innocent children caught up in the Eclipse Project over protecting her own son from the Blood Clan.

So, now that we know Evan can be an unreliable narrator, it makes his perspective on things untrustworthy.

[CHAPTER 16-13]

You knew it didn't belong to you, so you couldn't lose it. Relationships in this world were supposed to be like this. It was just that, when he took great pains to create a wound to keep her or perhaps even earlier, starting the day he tested her, the relationship between them had changed. Their so-called tacit understanding, coincidences, tears, forgiveness, concern, and trust... all of these were exchanged with lies. Evan turned around and directly pressed the button for the elevator. Just earlier, he nearly lost this weapon. He knew very well that if he didn't do this then she definitely wouldn't stay. Evan couldn't help but sigh emotionally at his superb acting. In that moment of hugging, persuasion to stay, comfort, heartache, jealousy, and interrogation, his body reacted before his brain as if he had really entered that scene. He even felt a faint pain in his chest. She had clearly been deceived, but she only cried and took a light revenge on him. Why didn't she hate him? Why did she still want to help him when she was tricked? Evan thought blankly. She ought to hate him. After being hurt so many times, she ought to know how to guard against him or ask him what he wanted. However, when she opened her bright eyes and took the initiative to say honestly that there was no reason, she just wanted to help him, Evan was at a loss. He even wanted to reach out and cover her eyes with his hand. He felt panicked for no reason, like his darkness and malice had been exposed bare without anywhere to hide.

Honestly, I think this scene in and of itself shows how much he is deceiving himself about his feelings. However, he has to harden his heart so that he can carry out his plan to use the heroine as a weapon to destroy the family head.

[CHAPTER 16 - EPISODE 2 IMPRESSIONS Scales of the Heart]

【1】 There was no moon tonight. Lu Castle stood quietly in the darkness, like a proud and silent shadow. Evan rejected Zhou Yan's offer to follow and walked into the castle alone. He didn't bother to maintain his gentleness of the past and ignored the bowing servants on both sides. His only goal was that man who had disappeared behind the truth. The dusty door to the study had not been opened for a long time and fine dust floated in the air. In the dim light, Evan was momentarily seized with terror but he soon reacted and turned his wrist slightly. The heavy thud of the closed door blocked all of the prying gazes behind him. Behind the large, black walnut desk was a heavy bookshelf that spanned the entire wall and was filled with all kinds of books accumulated over the years, many of which contained the history and secrets of the Blood Clan. Evan inspected this study. Without pausing for long, he walked over and took out the first book with a blank cover. He only had a short time to find what he wanted. Because, after two weeks, he had to present the most suitable vessel. 【2】 In the cold and silent study, only the sound of pages turning could be heard. "It's not this either..." Evan set down the file in his hand again. On it was his father's handwriting, which he was all too familiar with. A long time had passed and reason told him that those people may have noticed his actions, but he still relentlessly searched for evidence—was she a "god"? Evan lowered his eyes, concealing a hint of fatigue. His confrontation with Lu Ting had turned intense and the matter he had looked forward to had a new opportunity. His brain clearly knew what he should do, but a trace of hesitation appeared in his heart. He had forgotten this sort of emotion after his first trial. He searched for that evidence almost unconsciously, but he was uncertain if he truly wanted to obtain that answer. He just kept on repeating this futile action. His longstanding goal, the end of his longing; he had searched and planned for this for a long time and he had anticipated everything he needed to abandon on this road a long time ago. However, when this moment finally came, he found himself hesitating. 【3】 In the past, Evan had imagined it countless times. What was the deepest seabed like? It was lonely and dark, without a ray of light, and there was no way to convey sound, like a prison with no structure. And what was the end of the Blood Clan like? Perhaps it was the opposite of that, a void of nothingness. This bloody and sinful race would greet an eternal sleep in the void. They would have no reincarnation, no future, they would not be recorded in history, and they would be completely forgotten at the end. Recalling the savage and imbecilic arrogance of the Blood Clan controlled by desires, Evan let out a soft sneer from his throat. He knew that there were many eyes watching him, Lu Ting, his grandfather, and the clan. They were expecting him to succeed or perhaps they were expecting him to make a mistake. But he was no longer the child he was back then, and his plan could finally be started. It was just that the girl needed to be used as the most important chip. The scales of fate treated every person who experienced time fairly; to seize something meant losing something at the same time. 【4】 "If she really is a god..." The light in the study flickered for a moment and was caught by Evan's eyes, but the depths of his eyes were still a patch of darkness. He couldn't help but consider this possibility, and many of his guesses were confirmed. Or perhaps the day he tested her with a phantasmagoria, his subconscious had already made a judgment. "What do they think I'm going to do?" That he would do his best to prove the girl did not have the power of a god and could not be used as a vessel for the family head, thus exposing that his relationship with her was close, so much so that he would disregard the highest interests of his race? It was a shame they guessed wrong. If she was a god, then his plan would only become smoother. He would teach her how to use that power—this was also what he wanted to find in the archives—make her become his sharpest blade, and then give her to the family head as a "bomb" that would detonate in desperation. However, when he made this decision, his original thought still lingered—it would be great if he really couldn't find that evidence, he could lie to himself and he could still... send her home as usual. 【5】 Finally, Evan found a secret file in a corner of the bookshelf. He flipped it open. The paper was already yellow and it revealed to him the secret that had been concealed for many years—gods were once experiments of the Blood Clan and his father wrote many coded words about the power of the gods. The scales of his heart swung violently because of this secret. On one side of the scale was his longstanding obsession, on the other side was his already wavering feelings. He knew this opportunity was the chance of a lifetime and, if he missed it, it might be difficult to wait until the next time. He couldn't allow nor accept such a failure. The folder fell on the table and papers scattered in a mess. Evan took off the glasses set on the bridge of his nose and walked to the window. There was no moon in the sky outside, only twinkling stars that watched everything under the sky. To them, the obsessions and various turns and chapters of the world were nothing but insignificant moments. At this inopportune time, he wondered what the girl was doing right now. Was she worrying about the heavy work these days, or was she celebrating her success at this stage? Evan hesitated for a moment and then was silent for a long time. Finally, the scale still crashed to one side. His pale and stern face was reflected on the dark window and he withdrew his eyes, his expression turning cold. There had always been only one path he walked: by all means, without fear of sacrifice. Therefore, at least in this moment, and maybe only in this moment, he wanted to make this sort of choice.

First, I have to gush about this passage because it is one of my favorite impressions. It almost breaks the 4th wall, because among the eyes that are watching Evan's actions are ours, the readers, and we think we know the answer because this is an otome game and he is a male lead, except Evan takes this to the brink of no return. The repercussions of his actions, depicted later in the game, only cement the weight of the decision he makes here. He is so ruthless!

However, if there are still doubts about his feelings (despite how obvious his inner conflict has been depicted) then his actions later should thoroughly convince everyone of his feelings because:

After giving the heroine to the family head as a bomb, Evan was 0.1cm away from achieving his lifelong goal, except he turns back to save the heroine, thus exposing himself to all his enemies;

Evan, who could have killed the family head and Lu Ting, missed his opportunity because Lu Ting distracted him with the heroine's safety and now Lu Ting is stronger than ever after consuming the family head's soul; and

Warson is experiencing a financial crisis, thanks to Lu Ting manipulating the stocks, but Evan takes the risk in allowing the heroine to keep her fashion project under the brand Pristine instead of moving it to a more reliable brand for profit, an action that goes against what the chairman of Warson should do to maximize profits.

Now, look me in the eye and tell me that Evan is not horribly in love with the heroine, because he is making things endlessly hard on himself by making all these mistakes and concessions for her. This man is absolutely wrecked by love.

Shifting gears, but it's intriguing that Evan and the heroine share a commonality in how they were very close to their maternal grandmothers, one of the few people that showed them unconditional love. In Chapter 16, Zhou Yan comments on how the heroine reminds him of a younger Evan, because they both have a gentle exterior but they are opinionated and, once they set their eyes on a goal, they will achieve it no matter what. Evan believes they are similar because they both became tools.

However, my opinion is that both Evan and the heroine are too soft for their own good. Evan chides the heroine many times in his mind about how she's better off without him, but honestly the same can be said for him because he never considers his own safety when it comes to her either.

[CHAPTER 17-5]

Matters had come to this point, but why did she still not hate him? She should hate him after being tormented like this. Evan: Have you never thought about yourself? Evan: You should wish for something to happen to me, not worry about my safety. Evan: You're not eating properly or sleeping properly. You're disobedient, and you never learn.

[SSR Enticing Feast DATE]

Everything had been arranged to let her see his true self. That vile, contemptible, hypocritical, and brutal self. It was best for her to hate him. The farther away she was, the safer. So, when he saw her rejecting him with natural fear and dread on her face, he only felt happy.

But Evan and the heroine are helplessly drawn to each other and I once wrote an essay about how their relationship can be summarized "Like Moths to Flames". I'm actually going to revisit this topic again because the Light and Night writers have added a lot more onto this imagery.

In my opinion, while it isn't a golden rule in stories with traditional gothic vampires, a lot of creators like to explore the aspect of how these creatures—so closely linked to death but are immortal—long for some kind of oblivion. The ultimate romance for them is something that ends in their own ruin and death.

Now, look at these exhibits below, and see how Evan's feelings for the heroine also flirts with death.

[Serene Forest Night EVENT]

Did four-legged animals use less energy when they walked? My thoughts flew to the skies and I pestered Evan, asking him, if you can turn into an animal, what will you choose? Evan looked around and a moth happened to pass in front of us. He pointed at it casually and said, I'll be a moth then. Honestly, he must be joking.

[SSR Illusionary Light - 14 Years Ago Summer TRAJECTORY]

The second thing I lost was a mechanical pocket watch. I couldn't sleep the night after I threw it into the fireplace. The wind whistled outside and I felt my temples throb again and again, much like the tempo of that watch. That night I felt that I was about to become a pocket watch, a heinous one that would lead people astray and had to suffer abuse. I wanted to be it, I wanted to be it so badly. From the moment it broke free from my hand and threw itself eagerly into the face of the raging flames, I saw a kind of inspiration that put me to shame.

[CHAPTER 16-13]

Suddenly, a small figure appeared in front of my eyes. It was a skinny boy and he knelt in front of a fireplace that burned vividly like a fiery sunset. A few wooden blocks hit him all of a sudden and the boy picked them up without a word, throwing them into the fire silently. The flames leapt, just like the light in a pupil. The scene ended. I couldn't see the boy's face, but somehow I felt that it was familiar.

[CHAPTER 16-15]

These days I couldn't help but think of the scene I saw when I touched it that day. That must have been Evan's past. I didn't know why he threw those wooden blocks into the fireplace. Later, I tried to touch it again but I still couldn't see the cause, I could only see his hands gripping the hem of his clothes tightly. I even had the misconception that he wanted to throw himself into those raging flames.

[CHAPTER 16-15]

He suddenly thought sorrowfully that, if she were to open her eyes in this moment, would she find that he was this unfamiliar to begin with? The person that you admired, that you cared about, that you forgave, was actually not him. Meanwhile, because he acted as that person, he lost himself in the act. He was too close. The girl's breath hit his face and it was very hot. It made him recall the firelight of the fireplace which had also once thrown itself onto his face like this many years ago. Time stood still in this inopportune moment and he was startled by the sudden surge of desire in his body. Evan straightened up and made himself cool down quickly. Desire turned to disappointment and stuffed his chest full. Don't get any closer, he told himself. Don't get any closer.

[CHAPTER 17-5]

Evan closed his eyes. He had carried out countless plans but this was the only time where he didn't know whether it was a success or a failure. Originally, he had only wanted to hide her that day and confess everything to her after the crisis was dealt with. It didn't matter even if she hated him, as long as she didn't leave again. He would rather be entangled to the bitter end than be strangers who owed nothing to each other. This wasn't right, but he wanted to do this and so he did. He had never been as loyal to his heart as he was then, truly and genuinely fighting for something for once. However, matters developed to this point and escaped his control a long time ago. In that case, she should just... hate him to the end then. It was better than being strangers.

In conclusion, I honestly think it's impossible to say that Evan was simply using the heroine until he caught feelings for her Chapter 16 and onwards. He's been attracted to someone who can so easily be his ruin since the very beginning and every step he's taken since has been him struggling with his goal and personal desires.

(P.S. Did you catch how I named this essay the depth of his feelings because of the homonym between "depth" and "death"? Haha, I'm sorry for the terrible joke.)

Lastly, I will end this essay with this scene about how hard Evan wishes to tie himself to the heroine, even after death.

[SR Butterfly Kiss On Top]

[MC]: Evan, if there was a day I left this world, will I also become a butterfly? Evan was slightly startled and the fingers that held my palm gradually closed in. Evan: What kind of butterfly do you wish to become? [MC]: Hmm... I've thought about it and, never mind, I don't really want to be a butterfly. I pulled Evan to jog a few steps forward and the light that spilled through the tree branches fluctuated. [MC]: I'll become sunlight! Then I can shine on the person I want to shine on. [MC]: When I land on him, he'll be able to feel my remaining warmth. I swung Evan's hand and sheepishly stuck out my tongue. [MC]: Does it sound a little weird? But Evan lowered his eyes, which contained a smile. Evan: Not at all. [MC]: What about you then? What do you want to become? He thought for a while, looking over my shoulder at the ray of light on the low wall. Evan: Dust, I suppose. [MC]: Oh? Why do you want to become dust? I stopped involuntarily and Evan raised his hand, combing my hair that had been tangled by the breeze. Evan: Dust is often difficult for people to detect, only when it's in the sunlight can you see its floating motes. Evan: I don't care whether or not I can be seen by others— Evan: Because it's only when you perceive me that my existence has meaning.

#光与夜之恋 #light and night #LN Evan #LN Lu Chen #meta of light and night

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lorkai · 1 year

Note

Hello!!!

How r uuuu?

Could I request a little angst one-shot for Asmo please?

Maybe he cheats on his s/o while his s/o is away for a long time and then Asmo gets caught when he (the s/o) comes home?

(I used he/him pronouns because i'm more comfortable but any pronouns are fine ofc)

Thank you so much and feel free to ignore!and sorry if I' late with my answers!

Feel free to decline!

And thank you so much for always popping in my inbox it makes me so happy! 😍

*･゜ﾟ A/N: I was late with this request, but in my defense Tumblr ate this a couple of times and deleted my last draft. I was this close 🤏 to throwing hands /hj. Hopefully you enjoy this n come request more times, dear! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

*･゜ﾟ Warning: Cheating, nudeness, implied sex, swearing, angst, Hurt/comfort, chapter 16, Male!Reader (he/him pronouns), I proofread twice, sorry for any mistakes.

"What's up, MC?" Luke asked quietly, his small hand still holding tight to yours as you two crossed the streets. He was innocent but not foolish and you knew his eyes searched for something inside yours. He was like Simeon in that same way, always wanting to help, well, like father, like son, you thought with a faint laugh.

A laugh that left your lips quickly.

"I have a weird feeling. You know that weird feeling that something is going to happen at any moment? It's like that." You explained, moving your free hand back and forth as you spoke. If Solomon was there you knew he'd tell you it was because of your magic or something, but you knew that wasn't it. It was a suffocating, vicious feeling clinging to your chest. An unknown certainty that something or someone was trying to warn you. "Maybe it's just my imagination. Or anxiety, anything like that. Don't worry about me, Luke. Let's focus on getting these cupcakes for the brothers, okay?"

The very upset boy made a sign that he wanted to say something, moved his head from side to side in denial and contained himself with a big sigh. Whatever he was going to say, Luke judged it to be something you didn't need to hear at the moment, so he simply held your hand a little tighter as if he was afraid you'd suddenly disappear and he hurried to recount the sound his shoes made against the asphalt of the street, continuing to mutter to himself about the cupcakes you two spent hours making.

But you felt his gaze on you and you felt his small hand trembling in your grip.

Luke didn't react well to your death when he heard about it. No one would react well to such news and this news could not possibly reach Celestial Realm lest Michael resolve to create another conflict with Devildom in order to save a poor soul who happened to be killed in demonic territory, who came to be persuaded to make pacts against your will. So Simeon never reported this to his superior nor confided this to anyone but he also made the decision to bring you to live with them in Purgatory Hall so you would be safe and he escorted you at all times to make sure Belphie didn't try anything stupid again.

It was suffocating, especially in the beginning, but you understood him and you understood Luke too, even though he was still a child, he was a cherub and had made it his mission to be your guardian angel and be with you. with you whenever I need.

It was a cute gesture. But it was him, Simeon and Solomon who got you through those dark days, getting out of bed when your thoughts raced over your head or when you finally processed that you had died and started crying hysterically, along with the quiet moments with Barbatos and Diavolo in the castle, greenhouse, garden and library. They healed you and helped you until you could face the brothers again, until you could bear the thought of being around them again after being constantly threatened by Lucifer, going through near-death situations, and literally dying by one of their hands. .

It was almost ironic how months after that event, you were running around with outsized excitement to tell them about how you and Asmo were officially dating. It was a truly magical day that one, a day that made you smile so much your cheeks ached and your lips ached from so many kisses exchanged with the avatar of lust. He was a very caring boyfriend and he was also there holding your hand when the breath hitched in your throat, when you felt weak or angry, when the world seemed about to collapse on top of you after a relapse, after a nightmare. He was there for every single one of those moments to support you and show you a shoulder to lean on, Asmo was sweet like that. The best.

The silence that followed was a little awkward. Definitely not the uncomfortable kind of silence after you've said something embarrassing to someone or told a bad joke that no one laughs at, but the suffocating kind of silence where you can't hear your own breath against the wind, as if the world had stopped around you and there was only you there in the middle of a dark, dirty and silent room, like an old horror movie. As the outlines of the House of Lamentation began to appear on the horizon, you felt your heart pound and annoying little tears infest your eyes, just like that time when you were in the attic fighting for your life.

"I knew it, something's wrong." Luke crossed his arms, looking at you with worry. The little angel muttered to himself all the ways Simeon used to soothe you and then he looked at you more calmly, bringing your own hand to your chest so you could feel your chest beating. "Mc, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. I'll do it with you if you want, but stay focused on the here and now."

It's cruel to think you laughed off his concerns. But it wasn't a panic attack you were having or anything like that, it was hard to explain to him, even though the words were on the tip of your tongue and your mind was struggling to remember them. Still, you followed his advice and regularized your breathing so that thoughts flowed more slowly in your head and you could think more clearly. "It's not that, little one. Like I said, it's just a bad feeling, but I don't know if I want to go in there anymore and apparently there are traces of magic in the air. Can you call Solomon or Simeon, please?"

You hesitantly kicked a rock out of your way and watched it roll down the street. The box of cupcakes you were holding was starting to make you nauseous with the cloying smell of chocolate and icing, but you took endured and hid what was going on on your face with an almost natural smile, watching as Luke hurriedly dialed the number of one of his friends as fast as he could. The young angel seemed more anxious and lost than you, mainly because he didn't know how to act if something serious happened and he knew well that not listening to his intuition could be a stupid thing to do. And even if he had magic he was still young and inexperienced, he needed the support of someone wiser and he knew it.

The voice on the other end of the line sounded calm and peaceful, but it got louder and more rushed as Luke explained what was going on and where you were. And the young angel didn't even have time to put his D.D.D in his pocket when the call ended, a few seconds later a black portal opened a few meters away from you and Solomon came out, hurried and arranging the characteristic cape on his shoulders. One look in your direction and he seemed to know what you felt, whether it was because he was a sorcerer or an extremely empathetic human you couldn't tell. His blue eyes focused hesitantly on the House of Lamentation, as if he felt the same way you did, and he swallowed hard, seeming to search for the right words.

"You feel it, don't you?" He asked. He motioned toward the house with his head and looked through the mask you'd tried to pull over your face to show that you were okay and that whatever you were feeling wasn't bothering you anymore. Angry, you bit your inner cheek, you hated when he read you that way. "No, it's not your imagination. There's a strange kind of magic surrounding the house and I believe it's overloading your senses, well our senses, it only affects humans, strangely curious if you ask me. It's almost like they want you to stay away from the house..."

The sorcerer seemed troubled by something, but he decided not to voice his thoughts until he had enough proof. It was how he was. And going towards you, he held your hand affectionately and let his magic run through your hand like a shield to protect you from that feeling. A chill spread through your arm and started running all over your body, it was strange and made you shiver several times, but the bad feeling finally dissipated and a sigh of relief escaped you along with a genuine smile.

"Under the circumstances I will be entering the House of Lamentation with you, just to make sure no harm comes to you." Said your mentor with a serious look that didn't belong on his smiling and suspicious face. But you had already made up your mind and you weren't going to back down just because a spell was trying to repel you so strongly that it messed with your feelings, you waved your hand as if his concern was something trivial but he understood what was going on behind the gesture and let out a nasal sigh.

Solomon lowered his eyes towards the box of cupcakes and nimbly stole one as he began to walk towards House of Lamentation, evading Luke's furious screams and his disapproving glare.

"Boys, let’s go or I will use my magic to steal all the other cupcakes and eat every single one of them in front of you." He laughed.

Luke, terrified by such a threat, ran after him and you tried to yell at him to be careful or he would drop all the cupcakes, but he didn't hear you. Stifling a small laugh you followed them with careful steps, thoughtful and feeling like a storm was about to hit you as soon as you set foot inside the house. That was one of the only moments you hated having inherited Lilith's angelic powers, wondering why you couldn't just be a normal human surrounded by ordinary, boring people.

But you soon scolded yourself and walked faster. Thinking about such things now was a little pointless and you didn't regret being a part of their family despite everything you'd gone through with them.

The sound of the piano playing was one of the first things that caught your attention. Contrary to your expectations the morning star was playing something deeply wistful and sad, almost as melancholy as the coffee he drank every morning and a sombre choir echoed through the mansion walls; suffocated, lifeless. The sound carried a somber air among the dimly lit halls of the house where shadows scurried along the walls and mocked you, and in the midst of your thoughts Luke held your hand firmly to show that he had your back.

The young angel didn't like the gloomy atmosphere and you understood him perfectly with just one look, outside the day is lighter and more peaceful and today is especially happy and light, because you and Asmo celebrated a year together.

And to commemorate such an important date you wanted to give him something handmade. Something he liked and after hours of trying to think of something, the twins suggested that you give him something sweet.

Also, giving something handmade to a person was one of the angelic courtship traditions Simeon had been teaching you. And you're sure Asmo would cry with joy when he realized what you were doing. You could already smile knowing how he was going to scream and shout to the whole world 'mc is the best boyfriend in the world' and that alone, after the presence of your mentor and his self-appointed guardian angel, served to completely expel the bad feeling that sat at the top of your stomach.

"What are they singing, Luke?" You asked the young angel, half whispering, leading the three of you to the music room. Warmth and the scent of cinnamon filled the air around you as you entered, silently setting things down on the table.

The angel, however, cocked his head to the side for a second and thought. Finally he shrugged. "It's an ancient angelic language, I'm not sure."

When the chorus ceased, the brothers who were gathered around the piano Lucifer was playing turned around and Mammon let out a frightened cry when he saw you. The avatar of greed tripped over its own legs and fell, knocking Levi who was the closest person to him at the moment and making everyone else laugh at him and his embarrassed expression. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh as you watched each one present and a twinkle crossed your eyes when you realized Asmodeus wasn't there, which was strange considering he loved to sing and dance, or just show off his skills to anyone who was willing to see.

Mammon got up and knocked the dust off his clothes. "Hey human, what is this? Is this a present for the Great Mammon?"

Levi snorted, barely containing the displeasure at his glare as he got up and checked that his cell phone was working. He soon looked towards the box of cupcakes on the table and took one - he had to secure his while Beel still hadn't noticed the sweet there. "Mc, if you're looking for Asmo, he's in his room. He said he needed to do his skin care routine."

You mumbled an alternate response and gripped your box of cupcakes tighter, suddenly feeling heavier than it was. Your heart was beating fast and the nervous smile on your face had the brothers chuckling softly, some of them patting you encouragingly on the shoulders and back.

Lucifer stood up and wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a clumsy hug. "I'm sure he'll love it, Mc. Asmo has the two things he loves most here, do you know what they are?" Asked the elder in a tone he used when he tutored you in the laws of Devildom. But you denied it. "He has his favorite treats and he has you, the person capable of capturing his heart. Now go there, my good boy, surprise him."

A chorus of "good luck" and "you can do it" echoed through the music room and taking one last look in the direction where Luke had sat, talking animatedly with Beel about his recipes, you left towards Asmo's room. And you could still hear the brothers laughing and placing bets on how the avatar of lust would react to receiving their beautiful and simple gift, and after a while you heard nothing but your breathing and your pounding heart. A smile was already growing on your face with each step you took towards the rooms and you could smell the characteristic smell of cinnamon and chocolate, you could already feel his soft skin on your body when you were going to pull him into a hug, you could already feel the warm laughter on your neck, where Asmo loved to lay his face.

However, just as you had your hand in the air to turn the doorknob and enter that room, that damn room, you heard something. Something you didn't expect to hear, not when he promised that scenario would never happen and would be forever yours. The sounds of skin meeting skin, ragged sighs for air, and finally the bed slamming against the wall, you could, despite not wanting to, imagine the person and Asmo in the act, how he was holding them by the hands while looking into their eyes. Sweat trickling down his neck as he smiled and whispered promises. And your heart stopped beating in that instant, knowing that you and your gift wouldn't be enough for selfish Asmodeus and his new toy.

Lucifer was sorely wrong. Asmo might even love sweets, but he had just shown that he didn't love you, that he didn't love you with the same strength you loved him.

And you did what you knew how to do best. You kicked that door so hard it slammed into the wall and alerted the two traitors to your presence, but the worst part was seeing how they were still together, lying in the same bed you once lay in. And the dreadful expression on Asmo's face was enough to tell you that he had been doing this for months, but that he didn't want to be caught in the act.

The avatar of lust moved fast, backing away from the demon and donning a robe while stammering the dumbest excuse he could think of at that moment. "Mc... It's not what it seems." He said after so much stuttering, his face visibly desperate. Asmo no longer had a pretty voice in your ears, irritating and loud, drawing out each syllable as he prayed for help, for something to happen that would take your attention away from him. "I can explain, my love. Don't look at me like that... Please, angel."

But you decided to focus on the other demon who was covering themself with the sheet on the bed, smiling cheekily in your direction as if they didn't mind your presence. It was excruciating to wonder what that being in front of you had that you lacked, as obviously there had to be a reason Asmo cheated on you.

"Mc, say something!" He asked in an annoying whisper.

But all you could feel was rage running through your veins, a rage so great that the Satan's pact in your body was glowing green and your eyes followed every move your ex made. He was only a few feet away from you and he seemed to want to get closer to wrap you in his sweaty arms, the smell of sex wafting off him repulsively and with every step he took you took two more back. You didn't want contact with him, you didn't want anything else, and every moment in there felt like a moment when your sanity slipped away and you were consumed by something else.

You always knew you were in hell, surrounded by demons, but just at that moment, this place that was your second home looked like a real hell.

"Cheater, I didn't come to interrupt you. I came to give you this fucking shit I spent three hours doing like an idiot, I sincerely hope you choke and die while eating it. Goodbye."

The box of cupcakes landed at his feet, icing all over the carpet. And you watched the year you spent with him fade away with that gift, destroyed, stained by lies and all the promises that would never see the light of day. You felt stupid trusting him and giving him your heart. Maybe if you'd listened to the warnings from former exes, maybe if you'd thought a little harder you wouldn't be feeling all of this. Finally you turned to leave when he didn't respond, looking your way then at the cupcakes and then at the other demon he was fucking a few minutes ago, probably thinking about his ruined reputation.

Fists shaking with rage and tears almost running down your face, trying to breathe, trying to see something beyond the red.

"My angel, you are being unreasonable!" He shouted from the door. And that, my friend, caused you to snap and your entire vision was consumed by red, you don't normally confront people, but face to face with the demon that broke your heart you looked at him like he was a germ on the bottom of your shoe. "Give me a chance to explain myself."

"Let's get one thing straight, sweetie, I'm not your angel anymore. It's not hard to understand, your poor brain must understand something like that. Or are you just a pretty face?" Looking deep into his eyes you continued, filled with certainty that if you didn't say everything you needed to now, you would regret it later. "And another thing, I'm not blind, I saw what happened, I smell what happened, all the evidence is here and I wonder how your brothers will think of you after this news."

"Leave my brothers out of this!" He half-screamed, half-whispered, scared at the possibility. And threw himself at you, causing you to hit your back against the wall and glare at him. "Don't tell them anything!"

You barely managed to suppress the laughter that rose in your throat, pushing him away. "They will know yes, it's their right to know how dear brother ruined his relationship with their favorite human."

Asmo tried to retort, holding you tighter to stop you from leaving his room. But you punched him. And he in shock held his face, shedding tears as he looked at you, almost as if you were the traitor. Surely all the other demons he betrayed should have forgiven him, should have listened to him tell lies about how it would never happen again and that he loved them. But not you, you had a broken heart and a good rationale, if he loved you he wouldn't do this.

"Let him go, you don't love him, Asmodeus. And you know it." The other demon called out to him, legs still rubbing against each other as they looked at him expectantly. And you signaled him with your eyes, letting out a sneer.

"Yeah, Asmodeus, go play with your little toy. Don't you see how needy they are?"

With that said, you left his room taking a deep breath and clenching your fists so you wouldn't attack them both. Maybe demons and humans shouldn't really co-exist if they're all the same: they take, they take, and they're never satisfied until they've taken all they can. And even then, they keep taking it until there's nothing left but dust.

"Luke, Solomon, we have to go." You announced as you passed through the music room, successfully silencing the animated conversation they were having with the brothers with your stern tone of voice and frightening expression. The green in Satan's pact already told him that something very wrong had happened when you went to deliver your gift, something worse than annoyance if he didn't like it.

But neither Satan nor one of the brothers decided to question you right away, they let you collect your thoughts first. And Beel offered you a strawberry-flavored chewing gum, trying to stop the tremors in your hands and ease the tension in your shoulders. And even that chewing gum in his mouth tasted bitter.

"He didn't like it?" The little angel asked innocently, holding your hand as he looked at you with his expressive blue eyes, fearful.

You suppressed the torrent of negative feelings, took a deep breath and forced another smile. "He did something really, really bad and now I don't want to see him. Never again if that's possible."

That got the attention of the other brothers. Mammon was the first to step forward, expression already darkening as he asked. "What did he do, Mc?"

"What do you think he did?" Levi mumbled as if it were obvious, nodding at your watery eyes discreetly. "Asshole... even by his standards."

You didn't need to confirm anything. Your silence was answer enough to clear all of their doubts, to fill them with indignation and, in Satan's case, share your rage. And their gaze on you wasn't helping with the pressure and pain on you, about how you wanted to cry hysterically and still punch Asmo in the face again, and again and again until he could see what a disappointment he was in front of the huge mirror that worshiped his reflection.

And Solomon hugged your tense shoulders to demonstrate that you weren't alone, his wise eyes emanating an anger similar to someone who's been in the same situation. "Mc, it's gonna be okay. I promise you." He said.

"A betrayed trust cannot be mended, remember?" You lowered your eyes to the ground, took a deep breath, trying to find good words to explain the pain that spread throughout your chest, that made your lungs ache for air and choke your throat with sobs. "I... I just wish he would have said... That he would have ended things if he wasn't happy, wouldn't it be better?"

It would be better, but that was too much to expect from someone like Asmodeus. From one who lives to break hearts and delight only in what a momentary pleasure can bring, instead of caring about the important memories shared with the people he lives with, that he loves. Because he didn't just cheat on you, but his brothers too who you knew had a crush on you. He lost everyone's trust and he knew it.

"Sorry guys, but I want to leave. I can't stay here, not like this and I don't know if I'm capable of coming back."

Lucifer nodded. Unhappy, stern and holding back from marching into his brother's room and giving him the worst punishment he could think of at that moment. The older brother lowered his head. "There are no words capable of expressing how sorry I am for the pain caused by him, Mc. I honestly don't even know what to say, please go home, let your heart heal, we'll come to you if you need us."

"And I'll make sure that... That demon doesn't come near you or contact you." Mammon assured, seriously. He cupped your face between his warm hands and placed a kiss on your forehead, wiping away the tears that welled up in your eyes with his thumbs. And then he nodded at Solomon.

"I can make him have nightmares every night." Belphie was muttering under his breath, but you could hear him just fine. His human and demon form alternating every second, his tail swinging in the air aggressively as the youngest brother stared at the family portrait. Specifically Asmo's face, hanging on the wall. "You know MC, I can give you the best dreams of your life, just tell me what your heart desires and every night it will receive."

"I don't understand what's going on, but we have to go!" Luke squeezed your hand and pointed to the portal Solomon had conjured, behind you. The displayed place was far from Purgatory Hall, it was your favorite place in the human world, the place that gave you more comfort than anything and more than anything in the world you wanted to go there now.

Satan gave you the push you needed to finally move and your feet guided you there, away from them and the source of your pain. To get one step closer to healing your heart and repairing the damage he has done.

"Solomon, Luke, take care of him for us." Beel asked softly but firmly. He clutched his stomach between his hands, visibly uncomfortable with the atmosphere that had settled in the music room. Everyone was so full of mixed feelings about what happened.

And with a wave you two were gone. And it was for the best that the three of you left because the fight that broke out in the House of Lamentation wasn't something you needed to witness.

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kaigarax · 1 year

Text

Dance

Nozel Silva x Reader

Quote: “Fall in love with someone despite knowing they’ll never love you back.”

Nozel watches you from a distance as you flit across the banquet hall. You are elegant and light on your feet. Your words are always so eloquent and particularly chosen. You are, without a question of a doubt, a person befitting the title of nobility and aristocracy. So why did the Captain of the Silver Eagles always feel so peeved in your presence?

At first you had caught his attention on a mission. Long before Nozel had become Captain, he had gone on missions and quests just as everyone else. His and your squads had met up while fighting (and losing) to a bandit crew and ended up needing to team up with one another.

You hadn’t been the one leading your group's mission but you had definitely been the one with the most sense. You had watched with amusement as Nozel and your group’s self proclaimed leader had argued over simple things before stepping in right before the situation had gotten out of hand.

You were so quick to neutralize the hostile environment and Nozel hated it.

Back then, he hadn’t been all too sure why he had hated it. It wasn’t as if you had wronged him or spoken out of turn. In fact, you did the exact thing you should have done perfectly, yet it did nothing but annoy Nozel. In retorespect, Nozel has come to the conclusion it was because he had wanted to prove to himself that he could resolve this stupid conflict. A problem so simple that he hadn’t been able to solve.

After that encounter Nozel had started to see you everywhere. Or perhaps he had just started noticing you everywhere.

He stumbled into you in the middle of town on his days off. He ran into you in the capital city during award ceremonies. He could always spot you in some hoard of men (and the occasional women) in the midst of banquets. You were always there with your slightly amused expression no matter wherever Nozel happened to be on his days off.

You were quick to rise in the rankings of your squad and now here the two of you stood. As Captains of your respective groups.

This banquet hall that the two of you are attending is more of a ball than anything else. The noble men of the Kingdom had come together each year and would attend this event in hopes of creating alliances between their small houses and scoping out their rivals.

Nozel knows that you hadn’t always been a member of the nobility. Those rumors follow you when individuals think you can’t hear.

People believed that you had been a bastard child of the previous captain of your guild which was why he had adopted you as his heir. Others believed you to be the child of lowly peasants that had clawed your way into power through deception and lies. And the most outlandish of claims that Nozel had heard was that you were actually from a foregin nation and were a spy here to steal all of their country's secrets.

Nozel had never cared too much about those rumors. If anything they annoyed him.

How could you let something like this slide? Did you have no pride? Any self worth of where you should have stood amongst the other nobles? Did you even care?

If that had been him or any of his siblings Nozel would have silenced them then and there on the spot.

But… he supposed that you didn’t hold the same weight in society as he had.

The family you were a part of was new money. A family who had just barely entered into high society. Not to mention you were the adopted child. No matter how anyone looked at it, you would only ever be the replacement.

And yet, your reaction to the rumors continued to enraged Nozel.

It is known that those who reside in the Clover Kingdom reject strange things, but every so often something strange in society pulls everyone in. For instance, just because individuals reject strangeness does not mean they are immune to the magnetic force known as contradiction because, just as we reject strange things we are also drawn in towards things of contraction.

It was this fact that Nozel had based all his theories of you upon.

Despite being someone looked down upon in high society, individuals still always flocked towards you. Commoners and nobles alike. Magical and unmagical. Strong and weak. While at first Nozel had been confused he had quickly come to the conclusion that it was because while you looked dainty and fragile you were also strong.

While a horrible reputation followed, you were still such a pleasant and well spoken person. Good company, as one of noble birth might say.

Right now, you stood surrounded by a group of people all vying to catch your attention. You smiled pleasantly and spoke only when needed.

You were a silent person who spent most of their time observing others. Two traits that Nozel valued in a potential partner, yet from you Nozel could only find it infuriating. Sometimes he wondered why you couldn’t be more brash and unpleasant.

Why couldn’t you be uncouth and brazen like the foreigner captain of the Black Bulls or crude and expressive like the commoner captain of the Green Mantis?

It would make disliking you make so much more sense.

Even Nozel’s siblings looked upon him in confusion when he talked openly about his disdain towards you. Well, maybe disdain was too harsh a term. You were not totally unpleasant and you were neither the worst person in the world. You just had a way of getting under Nozel’s skin.

Nozel downed the drink in his hand before grabbing another one.

His two younger siblings were preoccupied with conversing with other nobles while Nozel sat miserably. Dinners like this had never been Nozel’s favourite thing. Even when he had been more popular amongst the aristocrats he still didn’t find much enjoyment. They always contained the same things.

Standing.

Walking.

Talking.

Pretending to look busy.

And…

“Would you like to dance, Captain Nozel?” You asked, bowing in front of the Royal.

Dancing.

Nozel scoffed. You truly didn’t care all that much about how the other members of high society spoke about you.

“It’s traditionally the man who asks the woman, Miss. (Y/n).” Answered Nozel.

You flashed your trademark smile, “I know.”

“So then I’m safe in assuming that you simply don’t care for the rules of high society?” Nozel raised a brow, “or is it that you simply believe that you are above them?”

“I would never insinuate something so blasphemous~” your eyes sparkled, “I am but a humble servant to those in the royal family. I am here, not as a woman, but a Captain of the Magic Knights. And is it not tradition for someone of a high rank to ask those below them for a dance?”

“Am I below you?”

“I’m sorry, your highness. Pardon my brashness but my squad has placed above your own for three consecutive years. Even a commoner child could come to the conclusion that my rank is above your own in terms of achievements.”

Nozel sighed, “if you are so insistent, than I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to accompany you upon the dance floor for a dance.”

You gave your best performed smile as you took Nozle’s hand in your own and led him to the dance floor.

Eyes quickly moved away from whatever nonsense they had been directed to before and towards yourself and Nozel. Anything not involving oneself always seemed to be more interesting to others; especially to those of the upper class.

Nozel could already hear the rumors that would be spread in the morning. But this was the best outcome. Afterall, Nozel wouldn’t want it getting out that he rejected a dance from you. The youth of the aristocrats had all been enamoured by you. Whatever it was they found so interesting about you Nozel didn’t know. What he did know was that you somehow managed to capture their attention and would likely hold a higher position of power when the younger class eventually took over.

It was a risky, but wise, investment.

Back when Nozel was younger, his family had wanted to make investments among those of the noble families. It was common for children of noble families to marry into other noble ones. It supposedly bred stronger forms of magic and made smarter children.

If it hadn’t been for Nozel’s strong willed mother, Nozel was certain he would have already been engaged to some maiden from a random noble family. If Nozel’s mother had been certain that she wanted her children to marry for love Nozel was certain he might already have a family of his own.

Perhaps an arranged marriage wouldn’t have been a bad thing. Sometimes Nozel wished that he could have everything planned out for him and all he would have to do is follow. It seemed so easy. Just following.

Nozel wouldn’t have to worry about picking the right woman or finding someone from the right family. All he wanted to do was be happy. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your (e/c) eyes peering curiously into Nozel’s own.

You were quite pretty with such a genuine expression of concern on your face. Nozel could understand why men flocked to you. He thanked his lucky stars that you turned away as he was certain he would have fallen head over heels had you continued looking at him with such an expression.

“What makes you think I’m not okay?” Asked Nozel.

“Your emotions are a lot stronger than others.” you explained, “even with gloves, your emotions still feel like shouts into a valley.”

Nozel brushed a strand of hair away from your face, “does it ever get tiring? Always feeling what others feel?”

“It’s not as horrible as you make it seem. I suppose it does get difficult to tell my own feelings apart from those of others sometimes. Especially around those with such strong emotions. It’s so easy to just get swept up in the voice of another.”

Now it was Nozel’s turn to look away. He hoped his guilt, or rather apparent lack of it, was something you didn’t catch onto. It was unfortunate that he wasn’t a lucky person.

You laughed, “you know, you’re truly such a kind person, Nozel. I suppose you could definitely show it more often but then I’d be afraid. You’d have far too many people taking advantage of you.”

Nozel scoffed, “and you are truly such a mean person, (Y/n). If you showed your true self more often I doubt anyone would want to hang around you.”

“I suppose you’re right!” You leaned in towards him, “but you like that version of me, don’t you.”

“I don’t like you even slightly.”

“I know that~”

“Then why do you even choose to hang around me?” Asked Nozel.

And you only smiled, “because I like you. Regardless of how you feel about me.”

And Nozel’s heart did that strange little thing that it always did around you. You liked him, but you would never like him that way.

You were light on your feet, elegant and well spoken. You were diligent, determined and quick witted. You were kind, strong and overall pleasant. All things that Nozel was certain he hated about you despite each of those traits being things that Nozel admired and respected.

It was horrible how perfect you seemed sometimes.

Nozel wanted, more than anything, for you to be clumsy and ill mannered. He would have exchanged almost anything if in turn you were lazy, carefree and dull. It would have been so much easier for Nozel if you had been rude, weak and unpleasant. Perhaps it was harsh to wish ill upon your comrade and fellow Magic Knight, yet it was something that Nozel had done every night before going to bed.

It was something he was ashamed of.

It was the part of him that he hated most.

Anyone would have thought him to be delusional. Afterall, there truly wasn’t much about you that was so horrible. Perhaps you were cold and didn’t always put the needs of many over that of the individual but that didn’t mean you were the worst person in the world. In fact, Nozel knew more than anyone how amazing you were.

It was just such a shame that you were everything Nozel had wanted in a person because he knew that you would never care for him the way he cared for you. You would never love him back.

Truly, it was heartbreaking.

Nozel wished, more than anything, that you weren’t such an easy person for him to love. Right now, more than any time else, he hated himself for falling for your charms so easily.

He wondered if you could feel his own emotions towards you and mistook it for your own. His emotions were ones that shouted. Ones that echoed into the night and into the morning after. Yet, he could not feel guilty. Nozel doubted you needed your magical abilities to be able to tell how he was feeling.

While Nozel had gotten quite skilled at hiding his emotions he knew that anyone close to him could hear the pounding of his heart. All they had to do was listen for it. His worst sin and greatest secret.

“You know, you should never be ashamed of how you feel.” you said.

Nozel looked up at you with such a curious expression. It was as if your words were that of a foregin language. Something he had never once heard before and if he could recall it then it would have been nothing more than a half forgotten dream. A half forgotten baked lie forged upon an unfulfilled promise.

“I, for one, would never tease someone for feeling how they feel.” you proclaimed, “I believe that our emotions are something we should never be embarrassed of. They are, after all, the most earnest part of ourselves.”

And so Nozel smiled.

Your words were strange but he supposed it was what he needed right now.

Your words were always something he needed. Something he yearned for.

“Thank you for this dance.” said Nozel, bowing alongside the others who participated in the dance.

You curtsied, “it was my pleasure.”

“Will you save me a dance next time?” Nozel asked, despite already knowing what you answer was. He asked you even though his heart shattered alongside your practiced smile.

Fall in love with someone despite knowing they’ll never love you back.

#Black Clover #black clover x reader #nozel silva x reader #100 ways to fall in love

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davidfarland · 2 years

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4 Ways to Write a More Cathartic Story (with Lewis Jorstad)

A lot goes into a successful novel, from compelling characters to an engaging plot, solid pacing, and a vibrant world. However, none of these things are quite as important as catharsis.

If you’ve never heard of catharsis before, this is a Greek term that describes the feeling of emotional satisfaction you get at the end of a good story. Your novel should build emotional tension by putting its characters in tricky situations, forcing them to learn and grow, and then setting them against one last challenge. In those final moments, we see just how much their journey has shaped their lives, releasing that emotional tension in a rousing and memorable conclusion.

Basically, catharsis makes reading feel good.

“When you release the character from the jeopardy of whatever problematic situation they’re in, then the audience experiences catharsis. A sigh. Whew.” – G.M. Barlean

Of course, the idea of catharsis is one thing, but actually creating it is another. A truly cathartic novel will need three things to succeed:

Change: Throughout your novel, you’ll need a variety of turning points that shake up both your plot and your characters’ lives. These moments of change introduce suspense and uncertainty, encouraging readers to get invested in your story.

Failure: Alongside change, your cast will also experience failure. As their world turns upside down, they’ll struggle to adjust and make mistakes in the process. This both ups the tension of your story and makes your character’s eventual victory all the more sweet.

Timing: Finally, these moments of change and failure should be carefully spread throughout your novel. This creates a steady drip of emotion, one that builds until you release the floodgates during your finale.

These elements will weave through every aspect of your story, from your plot and pacing, to your characters themselves. If done well, the result will be a powerful finale, one that leaves your readers deeply emotionally satisfied.

Fortunately, there are many ways to create catharsis, some of which you might be using without even realizing it. So, let me walk you through four simple tips for writing a more cathartic story!

1. Raise the Stakes

First up, one of the best ways to create catharsis is by introducing meaningful conflict.

This is something many writers struggle with. On the one hand, “conflict” is usually associated with car chases and gunfights, but the truth is that conflict takes many forms. Losing a spelling bee, getting sick at dinner, or arguing with a friend are all forms of conflict—no explosions required!

Regardless of what your conflicts look like, their job is to create stakes.

The stakes of your story are the consequences your characters will face if they fail to achieve their goals, and they’re a big part of both motivating your cast and writing a cathartic story. Without clear stakes, your characters have no reason to fight, struggle, and learn, robbing your novel of both the change and failure it needs to create catharsis.

Because of this, don’t be afraid to raise the stakes!

Think carefully about the conflicts driving your plot, and then consider how those conflicts affect your characters on a personal level. If they can’t resolve that conflict, what will happen? What are they afraid of, and what will push them to keep going even in the face of failure?

2. Leverage Your Characters’ Arcs

Speaking of your cast, you’ll also want to make the most of your characters’ arcs.

Character arcs are the internal transformations our characters experience as a result of our stories, and are powerful tools for creating catharsis. As your characters progress through their arcs, they’ll learn important lessons that slowly change them as a person. This all culminates in a powerful finale, where they make some choice that proves their new identity and brings their arc to a close.

Here’s an example of a cathartic character arc in action, courtesy of The Hunger Games:

Katniss Everdeen begins her arc bitter and jaded. She has no hope for the world, and is only focused on survival.

This begins to change when her sister is chosen for The Hunger Games. Desperate, she offers herself in her sister’s place.

Thrust into a dangerous world, Katniss struggles to survive. With no hope for her future, it’s hard to find the energy to keep out of trouble.

However, Katniss can’t help but make friends. Slowly, she realizes the people around her are worth fighting for.

This culminates in a difficult decision, where she chooses to sacrifice herself in order to make a statement of hope for her battered community.

As you can see, Katniss’ arc has all the hallmarks of catharsis. She changes as a person, experiences failure, and goes through a variety of carefully timed turning points—all building to a cathartic finale!

Of course, Katniss’ arc isn’t the only type of character arc out there. From negative arcs to positive and flat arcs, your cast could experience any number of transformations. Whatever their journey looks like, just make sure it includes all three elements of a cathartic story.

3. Create Mirror Scenes

Moving on from characters, we come to plot—specifically mirror scenes.

A mirror scene is basically what it sounds like. This is a pair of scenes that mimic each other, referencing their partner in subtle ways that strike a powerful contrast between your novel’s beginning and end.

How does this create catharsis? Well, mirror scenes encourage readers to think back to the start of your story by calling up similar images, situations, characters, and dialog. Though often subconscious, this causes readers to reflect on just how much things have changed as a result of your plot. Their mind will run through everything they’ve experienced, building up to that feeling of catharsis you’re aiming for.

So, how can you create mirror scenes of your own?

Well, the easiest way to do this is by focusing on plot points. Think carefully about the earliest plot points in your novel, especially ones that introduce major changes or turning points into your story. Then, consider how you could mirror those later on. How has your story changed, and what symbols, actions, and situations can you use to highlight that?

Whatever your mirror scenes look like, aim to have at least one pair bookending your story.

4. Understand Your Message

Finally, one of the best ways to create catharsis is to better understand the story you’re trying to write.

Though things like themes and morals often elicit an eye-roll from many writers, the truth is that every successful story has some central message tying it all together. Pride & Prejudice is about humility, The Hobbit about adventure, and The Giver about identity. These story points act as a unifying force, ensuring these novels’ stakes, character arcs, and mirror scenes are linked.

This is critical for creating catharsis.

Rather than having a protagonist who struggles with anger, a plot that focuses on fear of the unknown, and a conflict based around life or death, a clear central message keeps your novel focused. It gives you something to ground your story on, and thus packs a powerful one-two punch of emotion when all of those connected elements are resolved.

Because of this, ask yourself—what is your story’s message?

This doesn’t have to be explicit, and likely shouldn’t be. Instead, it’s whatever subtle point links the many pieces of your novel. Whether you want to explore the dangers of power run amok or the truth that love conquers all, understanding this early on will make it that much easier to write a cathartic story!

Ultimately, the point of all of this is to ensure your readers have a positive experience. Catharsis is key to writing an enjoyable story, meaning it should be one of your main focuses when writing your novel. Luckily, if you think your novel is a bit lacking, these four tips should be the perfect starting place for creating a more cathartic story!

BIO:

Lewis Jorstad is an author and developmental editor who helps up-and-coming writers hone their writing craft over at The Novel Smithy. When he isn’t working on the next book in his Writer’s Craft series, you can find him playing old Gameboy games and sailing somewhere around the eastern half of the US. You can also check out his free ebook, The Character Creation Workbook, and grab a copy for yourself!

Connect with Lewis Jorstad:

Twitter

Instagram

#writing tips #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writing reference #nanowrimo #writeblr #fanfic

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mitskijamie · 9 months

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jamie actually doesn’t meet up with his dad in rehab because it’s a projection of ted’s wishes when he falls asleep on the plane!! and maybe it’s not even what ted wants because we can’t control our dreams!! i’m definitely compartmentalizing the finale here, but i loved the post about how ted and jamie’s daddy issues do not align. at all. and when ted tells jamie to forgive his dad, i think he means to do it in an indirect way, probably like how he’s made peace with his own father’s death. i also think ted avoids conflict and confrontation by using indirect communication, like we see how he avoids the betrayal from nate, seemingly never seeks an apology from anyone, and his communication with his mom just explains so much. on the other hand, we have jamie who is fully dedicated to resolving (almost) any conflict. we can see it when he asks for keeley’s advice, commits to being part of the team, and also training with roy. so even though it sucked i don’t think it’s outrageous the jamie would take that responsibility on himself to forgive his dad. but i hate it because we don’t see any of the details in james tartt sr’s development, and so it just feels undeserved and leaves me with a sour taste because we have only ever seen and heard of the absolute worst things this character has done. and it also diminishes the conversation he had with georgie, and to me the entire situation is just so unfair to jamie. i’m equally obsessed and frustrated with ted and jamie’s dynamic in the context of fathers and sons

wow i did not need to ramble so much, i hope some of that is coherent

Unfortunately Brendan Hunt confirmed that the finale montage was reality 😔 including beardjane wedding and baby

But I appreciate you sharing your thoughts!! This is really interesting!! There's absolutely a huge chasm between how Ted perceives James & Jamie and what their relationship is actually like and that definitely creates some issues imo

#ask #im also fascinated by ted and jamie

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canonicallyobserving911 · 1 year

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It's season 6 but "good drama" has been replaced with main character plots that are either afterthoughts, illogical and/or recycled.

#5 of What’s missing from season 6.

[Completing 2022 drafts before 2023]

There are several things that have been missing from 9-1-1 during season 6 including (1) Maddie’s absence from firefam gatherings, (2) Halloween and Christmas episodes, (3) believable 9-1-1 calls and (4) exciting emergencies. In addition to those missing elements, the “good drama” plots that were previously included in main characters’ storylines have now been replaced with one of the following; (1) afterthought plots that were included because someone finally remembered a character hadn’t had a storyline in several seasons, (2) illogical plots that are in direct conflict with a main character’s previous actions and/or (3) recycled plots even though they were resolved during seasons 2, 3, 4 or 5. While it’s true that 9-1-1 is a procedural drama, the drama that’s being presented doesn’t have to be like the drama included in soap operas, telenovelas and/or reality TV shows. Has 9-1-1 run out of ideas for their main characters’ storylines and the plots associated with them? If so, then it is definitely plausible because it has happened in the past with other network TV shows once they reached a certain "seasonal age". But 9-1-1 shouldn't be struggling to come up with “good drama” for their main characters’ storylines this early, especially since they’re in the middle of their 6th season. Bobby and Chimney haven’t had individual storylines over the past four seasons and the ones they were finally given at the end of 6A appear to be an afterthought for Bobby and illogical for Chimney. The plots in Buck’s, Eddie’s and Hen’s storylines are being recycled from previous seasons which makes it seem like the show is completely unfamiliar with the characters they have created. Leading into 6B, all of the plots in each of their storylines either fall into the afterthought, illogical and/or recycled plot categories.

Afterthought

Athena didn’t have a dedicated storyline that led into 6B even though the focus of 6x3 “The Devil You Know” finally resolved one of her storylines from 2x7 “Haunted”. After 6x9 “Red Flag” ended, it appears her character will be focused on helping Bobby with whatever afterthought plots his storyline will include for the second half of the season.

Bobby's AA sponsor Wendell was introduced out of thin air and it gave the audience whiplash because Bobby had never mentioned him before 6x9. There were plenty of chances for Wendell to be introduced in previous episodes but he wasn’t. He could have been mentioned in 2x6 “Dosed” after Bobby and the rest of the 118 (except for Chimney) ate those hallucinogen laced brownies. Or Wendell could have been included in 4x13 “Suspicion” while Bobby was actually at one of his AA meetings when Athena followed him there only to find out he was there to help Rachel Hawkerson, the drunk driver who caused the pile up accident on the freeway in 4x9 “Blindsided”. Or maybe Wendell should have been introduced in 5x18 “Starting Over” after Eddie left Bobby’s house but right before Bobby poured that bottle of alcohol that he bought and had every intention of drinking down the drain. Bobby could have placed a call to Wendell to let him know how much he was struggling with guilt after Jonah captured Hen and Chimney especially since HE HAD ALREADY PURCHASED A BOTTLE OF ALCOHOL TO DRINK IN PRIVATE WHILE ATHENA WAS AT WORK. A 10 second call could have happened between Bobby and Wendell in 5x18, even if Wendell hadn’t been shown ONSCREEN so that the character could be introduced. The audience heard Wendell’s voicemail in 6x9 which proves a quick call in 5x18 would have only taken a few seconds and it could have replaced some of the time Bobby spent just standing in the kitchen staring into oblivion. This would have helped the audience understand how important Wendell was in Bobby’s life. All of those missed opportunities to introduce Wendell in previous episodes, makes it seem like Bobby’s current storyline for 6B is an afterthought. Also, why didn't Bobby turn the information he learned about Wendell's death and that couple he suspects killed him over to the police? Him being married to a police sergeant doesn't automatically give him the skill set needed to be able to investigate a crime. He’s the captain of the 118 which means he’s not a detective or a police officer. Also if it’s true that May is going to help Bobby and Athena with the investigation, then the direction Bobby’s plots and storylines will take in 6B and future seasons is unclear. Does he want to be a cop or remain a fire captain? That’s another reason why his storyline and the plots included in it for 6B, appear to be afterthoughts.

Illogical

Chimney was shown to believe in jinxes in 4x6 “Jinx” and curses in 6x7 “Cursed” but in 6x9 he willingly researched the history associated with a “Murder House” and that was after Josh had explained the phantom calls he took were coming from inside of that house.

Chimney was onsite to medically assist one of the police officers after they had been injured during the welfare check but even though the house had been abandoned, Chimney walked through it and he didn’t appear to be phased by the spookiness of it.

Therefore his belief in both jinxes and curses is a direct conflict to his sudden acceptance of not only investigating an abandoned house that had a suspicious history but also PURCHASING it. For someone who readily believes in curses and jinxes, the plot within his storyline didn’t make any NARRATIVE sense at all. Was the audience supposed to forget that he still believes mentioning the “Q” word inside of the firehouse will cause the 118 to have a bad shift along with the fact that he was adamant about not touching Felisa’s bracelet in 6x7 “Cursed” since he believes curses can spread? This is one of the most illogical plots that’s been used on this show and it has blatantly disregarded Chimney’s main character traits of being a truther who believes in curses and jinxes while he also wants to protect his family from danger. The way things played out in 6x9 made it seem like Chimney never believed in jinxes or curses even though the audience had just been reminded that he still does two episodes before in 6x7. His storyline is not only illogical, it also seems like it was an afterthought too just like Bobby’s. Chimney needs his own storylines but they also should make NARRATIVE sense.

Maddie didn’t end 6A with a dedicated storyline but it would have made more NARRATIVE sense for her to have been the one who took the calls about the “Murder House” instead of Josh. She could have done the research to prove that it wasn’t an actual “Murder House” so that she could have convinced Chimney to go see it. That would have allowed them the opportunity to have some back and forth since he clearly still believes in jinxes and curses. Then once he learned that no murders actually took place there, they could have agreed to buy it together. Both of them completed a house hunt OFFSCREEN in 6x8 “9-1-1 What’s Your Fantasy?” so her being the one to research a house that had an interesting history wouldn’t have been farfetched.

Recycled

Hen’s storyline that started in 6x9 and will continue into 6B with Karen and Denny was resolved in 2x5 “Awful People”; therefore it doesn’t make any NARRATIVE sense for it to resurface like it is a brand-new storyline for her in season 6. Karen and Hen met with Nathaniel, Denny’s biological father, at the end of 2x5 and he said, “I could tell Denny has a good life here. And I don’t want to harm that in any way. You’re his parents. Tell me what’s best for him and I’ll follow your lead”.

When Denny asked about his biological parents (for the second time because he asked about them in season 4 the day before Nia was preparing to leave) all Hen and Karen needed to do was say they had already met with him and if he wanted to meet Nathaniel, they would arrange it. Denny going to search for his bio dad on his own was nonsensical. This is a recycled storyline that shouldn’t have resurfaced especially since Nathaniel was ok with letting Hen and Karen take the lead. It appears the show might be reusing this storyline for Buck’s RIDICULOUS sperm donor storyline but since it’s NOT BEING USED TO HELP BUCK UNDERSTAND THE WHOLE “DONOR, NOT DAD” THING, how is it going to help anyone in 6B? Hen and Karen are hurting and Denny went off by himself on his bike to some man’s house.

Since Nathaniel’s face wasn’t shown, it’s likely he might have gone to the wrong person’s house. Hen’s next storyline didn’t have to be like this so it’s unclear where it will end up in 6B now that she dropped out of medical school.

Eddie’s plots for his 6B storyline will be recycled too if the plans the showrunner has for his character are executed. Excerpts from one of the showrunner’s many post-mortem interviews that was posted on most social media platforms after 6x9, includes one of her quotes regarding Eddie and it stated that Eddie would be “dipping his toe back into the dating pool”. If it’s true and he will start dating again then there’s no NARRATIVE reason why a storyline that was resolved in 5x3 “Desperate Measures” has to resurface. Eddie already tried dating again in 4x6 “Jinx” and even though she was supposed to have represented everything Eddie “should” have wanted in a relationship; it didn’t work because Eddie’s heart wasn’t in it. Did the showrunner FORGET the way Eddie reacted the last time he dated?

The audience hasn’t forgotten because his reaction to dating again was so visceral that he had a FULL-BLOWN PANIC ATTACK at the mere thought of spending his life with her. Also his ex-girlfriend closed the door after he broke up with her so why is him dating again even a possibility especially since EDDIE ALREADY GAVE HIS HEART TO BUCK?

Eddie’s heart wants Buck and realization set in for him in 4x13 “Suspicion” while he was talking to Carla and she told him to follow his heart and not Christopher’s.

He confirmed Buck is who his heart wants right after he got shot and he reached for him while they were laying in the middle of the street during one of their many silent conversations. Eddie doesn't want to date around ESPECIALLY SINCE HE WROTE BUCK INTO HIS WILL which solidified his decision to make a life and build his forever with him almost 3 years ago. At this point, Eddie dating anyone other than Buck doesn't make any NARRATIVE sense. Instead of forcing him to date again, he should be shown talking to Frank, his therapist, about the things he wants now that he’s healing but that would be too logical and make too much sense, so the showrunner is avoiding it.

Buck’s storylines and the plots associated with them are all over the place because his search for happiness is another recycled plot for cheap drama that’s being used to regress him. His drama is not even "good drama" because he’s been searching for happiness since season 2 after his first girlfriend abandoned him.

Then he asked his parents to love him anyway in season 4 and now he’s still searching for happiness in season 6.

His search for happiness has been stunted once again because someone decided it would be a good idea to have Buck make more mistakes and inserted this sperm donor plot that hardly anyone likes. It’s RIDICULOUS because all logic associated with the actual process was removed from the plot. The show cheapened the sperm donation process and reduced it to something that was laughed at. They also ignored the screening process and protocols that are in place to eliminate donations that could pose a risk to an unborn child. What about Buck’s medical history? What about Buck not doing the deed for 4 weeks but actual tests from medical doctors who specialize in IVF state “infrequent ejaculation increases the quantity of dead sperm”? Why didn’t Hen say more than she did when she asked him if he could walk away especially since she was in MEDICAL SCHOOL? How did the process work so fast when in real life it takes months for IVF to work? What about him NOT wanting to make the same mistakes, which he keeps doing over and over again anyway without learning anything in the process? Last season he cheated on his girlfriend which didn't make any sense either since he waited months for his first girlfriend to return in season 2 only to ask Bobby when he got to be happy. Buck's been searching for happiness for years and he still hasn't figured it out yet even after he talked with Lev at the Happiness Convention in 6x2 “Crash and Learn”. In addition to his current storyline, Buck’s being regressed to repeat the same mistakes because his found family is not being allowed to be there for him when he needs them. The same thing that happened in 4x14 “Survivors” with Buck being separated from the firefam when he really needed them after Eddie was shot and it’s being done AGAIN for the umpteenth time. He was in the process of making a life changing decision about if he should be a sperm donor but the showrunner separated him from Eddie, Maddie, Bobby and Chimney so that he couldn’t be talked out of it. Buck has demonstrated that he can grow in the past so it’s unclear why his storylines have him going in circles with no progress. His storylines are recycled the most and the audience has grown tired of him regressing.

Some of the main characters are being written in a way that they’ve become unrecognizable due to the lack of growth they are exhibiting. Plots that were previously resolved are now being presented as new and fresh which just makes everything seem off or like something is missing. At the end of season 5, all the mains were supposed to be “Starting Over” when 5x18 ended; therefore they should have learned from their mistakes and been preparing to do something different but that didn’t happen in 6A. Did the showrunner forget the mains were supposed to be starting over? It certainly seems like she did since they aren’t being allowed to start over and instead, they are repeating the same mistakes they made or that were resolved during seasons 2-5.

It seriously seems like the show has completely run out of ideas with regards to plots for the main cast because they’re currently using a “copy and paste” method by reusing storylines and plots from previous seasons. It appears they’re choosing to ignore episode reactions from the audience and they're depending on the audience they spent years building to just keep watching. But based on audience comments that were posted after 6A ended, a lot of viewers posted they will use the hiatus to decide if they will return to watch 6B. The same thing happened during season 5 which caused the show to lose millions of viewers. Comments from the audience have been mostly NEGATIVE with regards to 6A so it will be interesting to see how the ratings will end up after the show returns in March 2023. Will things get better or worse for main characters’ plots in 6B? It’s unfortunate but the audience will have to wait and see since the promo for 6x10 “In a Flash” didn’t provide enough details to determine if the second half of season 6 will continue to have mostly filler episodes.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #maddie buckley #chimney han #hen wilson #athena grant #bobby nash #denny wilson #karen wilson #911 fox #911 on fox #911onfox #911 meta #911 s6 #911 season 6 #911 season 6 speculation #Things that are missing from 9-1-1's season 6 #118 firefam

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princeescaluswords · 1 year

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You may not have an answer for this but I feel it would still be fun to ask. Were there any hunters that hunted anything besides werewolves? We know that the Beastionary exist that depicts all of the different supernatural creatures. However in all the families, and individuals, that we've seen with the exception of the first Argent to make a kill. It seems that no hunter is ever prepared to fight anything besides werewolves. Which paints the picture that either werewolves are more plentiful than anyone would think and no one thinks they'll run into anything else. Or, that there's some in-house xenophobia (might not be the right word) going on in the community. Because gun happy Kate walked into the room with a nice piece of machinery ready to go ham on werewolves right out of her car. Yet the Calaveras, who operate out of Mexico, can't deal with a Berserker? And let's start to get the Kenama mystery. Nice for a plot device but, you mean none of the hunters thought "hey what if it was this thing" and then said "Hey I know how to kill it\ defend against it"? I know teen Wolf isn't Supernatural but, one does still make you think about the other in terms of competency.

First, I want to address your quote: "I know that Teen Wolf isn't Supernatural ..." You answered your own question right there. I stopped watching Supernatural after its first couple of seasons for exactly the same reason. Before it decided to descend into full-throated blasphemy against my religion and indulgent Chosen-One power fantasies, it was a monster-of-the-week show, and that meant it had to obey certain conventions; not because of a lack of creativity or skill but because the very format demanded that the obstacle be discovered, explored, and resolved in one episode. I heard that they adapted multi-episode arcs later, but I was no longer invested.

The necessity of the format required the Winchesters to be highly competent. No matter what they were fighting, the lore and means to defeat it had to lay within their immediate abilities. The character's human frailties were present but never seemed to become an obstacle which couldn't be surmounted in 45 minutes.

Teen Wolf also had conventions it had to follow. In its case, the obstacle was discovered, explored, and resolved over an entire season of 10 to 12 episodes (and in one case 20 episodes). In addition, the protagonist was a teenage boy and his allies, most of whom were also teenagers. They were also not professionals, which meant not only did they lack all the skills to handle the events (which is what attracted me to the show) but they also had to be drawn into the conflict and still try to maintain their normal lives while coping with it.

One of the consequences of this format, however, was that the civil authorities and vigilante groups who were present could not ultimately be the people who resolved the conflict of the season. More often, they were obstacles to that resolution. This didn't mean that they were incompetent. This meant that the writers -- sometimes successfully and sometimes not -- had to create situations where the protagonist and his allies were in a more advantageous position than these other groups.

This brings us to the Argents and the other hunters -- though in every season, at least one member of the Argent family was part of the protagonist's ally group and provided invaluable assistance in resolving the season's conflict. We know that the Argents fought more than just werewolves, though they were inspired by La Bête du Gévaudan. The Bestiary should be proof enough, but if it wasn't there is this speech that Chris Argent gives to Derek Hale in Echo House (3x20).

Chris: ... You ever heard of the Berserkers? Germanic warriors.

Derek: They wore the skins of bears to channel their ferocity.

Chris: They didn't just wear them. They became them. You know, a couple of years ago, a family came to us for help with their son. This group of teenagers, they were doing all sorts of rituals with animal skins. Somehow they tapped into it. But with Berserkers, the human side doesn't last long. They're not tempered by the moon.

Derek: He killed people?

Chris: He tore them apart. Eventually, I had to tell the family their son was gone. It took three of us to take him down. Almost every bullet we had ...

So yeah, hunters know about Berserkers, and just like Peter, they were terrified of them. Now imagine fighting two Berserkers (three if you include Scott) who, while not being tempered by the moon, are being controlled by La Loba, who is not only a Nagual werejaguar but also one of the Argent's "star players." Kate Argent knew hunter tactics, even the Calavera's tactics and their capabilities, and could react accordingly. The Calaveras would have had a difficult time against a single Berserker according to Chris's story, but against something like that? Victory was never assured.

It was impossible to be always prepared for every monster they might hunt. The Bestiary, as Allison stated, is over a thousand-pages long. Even given the Argent's significant ties to the political and law enforcement communities -- repeatedly demonstrated -- they wouldn't be able move through the world openly with all the force they had all the time. Only once they identify the monsters they are hunting, they might be able to get the proper supplies, as for example, when Chris Argent tracked down that particular species of wolf's bane in Season 4.

You brought up the Kanima; while it's in the Bestiary, it is exceedingly rare. Neither Deaton nor Chris could identify it at first. Gerard may have, but if he did, he concealed that information because he could use the Kanima exactly in the way he tried -- to get Derek to give him the Bite to cure his cancer and then become an alpha werewolf himself. How competent would the Argents have been against the Kanima if they weren't being betrayed by one of their own? How competent would the Argents have been in Season 1 if Kate wasn't also, at the same time, trying to cover up her violation of the Code (and massacre of innocent werewolves and humans).

As for why the Argents and the Calaveras seemed ready to fight werewolves? Because they were in Beacon Hills, historically founded by the Hale werewolf pack as a sanctuary, and a place where other werewolf packs came for advice and guidance. If you're an animal hunter going to the desert, you don't bring the equipment you use for polar bears.

These plot points were included to keep the focus of the seasons on Scott, the lead protagonist, and his ally group, without minimizing the Argent's story or the threat of the Calaveras or even the renegade hunting family in Monstrous (4x10). It was used for great effect in Season 6B as well, with Monroe's crusade. After Images (6x13) showed Gerard deftly hunting Brett but also manipulating Liam into revealing himself to the general populace, while we learned in Pressure Test (6x15) that they killed all of Satomi's pack.

Yet, the narrative focus and thematic requirements determined that it couldn't be the established hunter family that solved the problems, especially since one of the themes of Teen Wolf is that violence, while sometimes necessary, is frequently not the solution to these conflicts.

#teen wolf meta #scott mccall defense squad #chris argent #allison argent #gerard argent #kate argent #araya calavera #severo calavera

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