#((but inspiration strikes when it strikes I guess??))

[beansidhebumbling]

The Art of War

The study was empty when Eris entered it.

He was quite sure of it.

Or had been until he heard a startled gasp when he slammed his hand against his desk.

He turned suddenly, catching his emerald brocade waistcoat on the corner of the bureau. Yet another casualty of this disastrous ball if the ripping he heard was anything to go by. There the intruder sat, across the firelit room in his favourite armchair, a vision of stunned elegance in white muslin.

Under his burning gaze, emotions burst like fireworks across her sharp little face- nervousness, irritation, anger, hope -before disappearing beneath a veil of polite, practiced concern.

'My Lord, I apologise for the intrusion.'

She murmured, head tilted down, voice trembling just so. She was a poised model of simpering female softness, slippered feet peeping out beneath the hem of her ivory dress, gloved hands clinging to a book, probably poetry.

And yet.. she made no move to stand, no rush to leave what was no doubt a compromising situation for any young debutante. Indeed Eris had a suspicion that the violent bang of his arrival was of little surprise at all. Only fools believed women incapable of deception, when indeed in polite society their very existence depended on their mastery of it.

Unfortunately for this actress he had no intention of being trapped by yet another conniving mama and his extinguished patience was not present to temper his tongue.

'What a skilled artist you are, Miss. Your concern for me is as artificial as the rouge on your pretty lips, yet most convincing. A lesser man may have been fooled. May I suggest you leave here and find such a man before I lose what is left of my good will.'

He snarled, feeling his face redden with frustration as he spoke until his complexion surely matched his hair.

He expected a few tears or a dramatic exit once he spoke.

He'd inspired both before.

Instead the creature had leaned back in the chair and raised her face towards him, so he got to observe her thin eyebrows climb higher and higher in disbelief and her plump bottom lip thin in fury as he raved.

There followed a few moments of painful silence where the only sounds that could be heard were the distant ballroom music and his own heavy breathing.

Then she rose from her seat, her movements liquid and graceful, a dancer he guessed, the book still in hand. Advancing on him she began to speak, voice low and steady, her grey eyes like knives pointed at him,

'I am skilled artist, my Lord, though not as you insinuate. And it is a damning indictment on men that I believe I could find lesser than what exists before me.'

He winced at her condemnation, an expert with blades of all kinds clearly. His chest tightened strangely and his hand clutched at it but he received no mercy from the descending angel.

'I have heard many tales of you, Lord Vanserra, but none had quite readied me for that introduction.'

His heart was ready to burst from his chest. Maybe because it was wrapped, from her first word, in a bow of barbed wire, that glistened gold and extended across the rapidly disappearing space between himself and the vengeful beauty. The clarity of this realization was as striking as his regret at his own insult towards her.

She continued, blessed as he was with the sweet timbre of her voice, damned as he was with its contents,

'I entered your study for a chance to meet you, my charming soulmate. So as to allow the bond to click for you in private, so you would not have to suffer publicly, as I did.'

Gods damn him.

She was breathtaking clothed in rage. It may be the only solace he could take from her anger, as based on his actions she would feel little else for him henceforth.

She reached him, those dainty feet now so close to his fine leather boots, her perfume of orange and vanilla filling his nose. He was sure he appeared to be a madman, clenched over his desk in pain as his heart was reforged as hers. His pale hand reached for her but she artfully dodged him, skirts whirling as she dropped the book on his desk and leaned down so her lips were by his ear.

'My name is Nesta Archeron, my Lord. And I will go now and seek one of those lesser men that you speak of. Do come join me when you are less indisposed.'

Nesta, he tried the name out, finding it to be most delightful even as a searing jealousy at the thought of her with another man threatened to turn his stomach.

By the time he could choke out her name, she was by the door.

'Nesta. Please.'

Funny how words that came so easy to him mere minutes ago had vanished somewhere between his head and his heart.

'Nesta.'

She did not turn but he saw her posture tense slightly as she pulled open the door and disappeared back to the dance.

-

He was not sure how long it took him to recover. Only that when his vision finally cleared the moon was high in the sky and the crunching of carriages and laughter could be heard through the bay window.

Nesta.

She was his first thought, as she would be for the rest of his life.

How Lucien would laugh at him. Only Eris Vanserra could offend his mate so thoroughly before an introduction. When he tentatively probed at the bond, that gold ribbon he felt bound to his heart, it echoed into the darkness with no response.

She had shut him off.

No great surprise but disappointment bit at his gut like a viper.

Pressing his forehead against the cool mahogany he sighed in despair. He allowed himself a moment more to wallow in his own stupidity before standing and fixing his jacket, buttoning it so as to hide his torn waistcoat.

It would do no good to admit defeat at this early stage. Eris had been fighting for his place since the day he was born. If it were to be no different with his mate, he could rest assured that none were more practiced than he.

His eyes turned to the thin book she had left on the desk, the smell of oranges still clinging to it. He turned his first gift from her, for it was one in his mind at least, over to read the title.

The Art of War.

For the first time that night, a smile tugged at his mouth.

How apt.

And though sleep beckoned Eris relit the candles in the study for it was time to prepare for the fight of his life.

[agent-yolk-writes]

A Nightmare in Devildom (Obey Me/Nightmare on Elm Street concept fic)

Basically what it says on the tin. A "what if MC was a survivor of freddy kreuger's torment before the events of OM" concept fic.

This is was of those weird ideas I came with this during the early covid lockdown period where my insomnia got really bad to the point where I was borderline delirious. I meant to get this out during October for spooky season vibes but after three Octobers came and went and Obey Me isn't getting any more updates, I figure I throw it into the pit before that happens. No beta we die like obey me as a franchise, I guess!

If this inspires you to write something similar, please let me know! If you want me to write more...please reconsider!

And, of course, happy holidays!

AO3 Mirror Link

Good lord, I look terrible. You thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror. When was the last time I got some rest?

Other than looking more visibly tired, you look...older. It was the face of a nurse finally coming home after back-to-back double shifts. The bags under your eyes could only get so dark, but thankfully you knew a demon who had so much concealer and foundation lying around that he wouldn’t know if a few went missing. 

You knew you shouldn’t be continuing this habit, but you can’t help it. Despite living in a mansion with the most powerful demons in Literal Hell(!!) in the past few weeks your brain is still not convinced that you’re safe from Him . Would he still have the balls to terrorize you still? Does he even know where you are? Surely he’ll just know when you disappeared without a trace, but you can’t afford to find out for yourself. 

As much as you wanted to tell the brothers, you didn’t want to drag them into this mess. After all, this problem only started just weeks before you were brought here. It came without warning, and suddenly it turned into a bloodied hurricane. To think He was the one that killed your friends and classmates back in the human world…you regretted not being able to do more for them until you were in His sights.

This opportunity with the exchange program was either a saving grace or a divine intervention, and you’re not going to let that chance slip away from you. You have the whole year to work on magic and potions and anything else that could possibly drive Him away if not kill him for good, and you highly doubt he’s going to forget about you. Knowing how to do magic is one thing, but putting it to memory is another. This wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so damn tired. You’re trying so hard to pay attention in class, but you just end up more focused on trying to keep your eyes open lest you allow Him to strike at your most vulnerable. 

However, there is one possible solution. The only problem is that you needed to form a pact with his other brothers before he could even consider helping you, that slothful bastard. Belphegor knows how tired you are and how you would do anything for a safe and peaceful rest. There was no point hiding it from him as you were with the others. Oh, how you envied the way he could sleep the day away in his little prison cell…you could just punch him if only you had the strength.

…

You really didn’t feel good about the multi-layered lie you found yourself webbed into to get the pacts in the first place. You recently got Beelzebub’s pact, putting you at the halfway mark. He looked so happy about your ‘plan’ to impress Lucifer enough to have him make up with Belphegor that it made your stomach churn in shame. Is it really okay for you to do this? Wouldn’t it be easier to tell the truth? Out of all the brothers, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for lying to Beel.

But what if Lucifer points his finger at Belphegor if you bring it up before you’re able to finish explaining? Would it destroy all the progress you made? Would you make things worse ? If they draw parallels that your deprivation is somehow related to the seventh-born’s sleep-related powers…only Lucifer would have an answer different from the other five. That’s why you have to keep up this facade for as long as you can. That’s why you need to stay awake. To find a way to protect yourself as well as the others. 

Your new friends at Purgatory Hall, bless their hearts, were none the wiser. Considering two of them were actual angels, you would’ve expected at least Luke to confront you with tears in his eyes about your health at least a month in. He makes a big talk about how you should never trust ‘those demons’ before having lunch with Beelzebub. Sometimes you think Solomon is giving you weird looks whenever you make eye contact with him. It’s probably the sleep-deprived paranoia, but you hope it’s nothing. You’ve been getting away with it for this long, so what? 

Tomorrow you have to stay over at Diavolo’s castle as part of an exchange party sleepaway camp or something. If you’re lucky, you can have a room for yourself. You don’t pack your go-to methods for staying awake until right before everyone heads out.

~

The steaming heat of the boiler room did not warm the chill in your bones one bit. 

You should know the inner workings of this hellscape by now. It was His favorite hunting ground, after all. However, something seems different this time. Everything felt…a bit shifted to the right, in a way. On top of that, there’s no sight or sound of Him anywhere. No taunting catchphrases, no spooky teleports he’s fond of doing, not even the shilling sound of his claw on metal when he’s close. This is probably his new trick, you think. Lulling you into a false sense of security before-

You turned around, involuntary flinching as you braced yourself to be hit. Only to process seconds later that nothing’s coming. In fact, there was no sign of life behind you in the first place. Damn it, he really was playing with you at this point. As soon as you let out a sigh of relief, you heard someone screaming from the other side of the room. You couldn’t tell who they were, but that’s not going to stop you. You ran towards the sound before you let the dread wash over you. 

“I’m coming!” You yelled at them. “Wake up! He can’t hurt you if you’re awake!” You were so focused on tilting your head up to project your voice to the other person that you didn’t realize you hit a dead end until you ran into a wall of pipes. “Oh, god damn it!” You cursed, pivoting on your foot to turn around and run even faster. 

What happened next happened too fast. You didn’t know where you were going. Everything is starting to blur together. A pipe managed to burst the same second you turned your head to follow the noise, immediately blinding your vision with steam and a “Shit!” jumping out of your mouth. The suddenness of it all made you lose your momentum and you feel yourself stumbling forward. You didn’t have time to brace yourself for the sharp object that’s going right through your- 

You wake with an audible gasp, hands going up to your throat. The sound of your racing heart and your uneven breathing replace the sounds of pipes and steam. You looked around in the darkness and could barely see two bodies sleeping in their respective beds. Ah, that’s right. This is the first night of Diavolo’s retreat, and you find yourself paired to a room with Asmodeus and Simeon. In an attempt to pretend you’re asleep ended up having you fall asleep for real. You couldn’t help but think how pathetic you were for letting your guard down for one second and falling into His hands again after so long all because you were waiting for someone to finish their 20-step overnight skin routine.

With a shuddered sigh, you carefully slipped out of your bed and into the hallway in hopes you could clear your thoughts without disturbing your roommates. 

Thanks to the occasional jittering of a Little D doing their nightly duties, the halls of a demon lord’s castle don’t feel as haunted as you would think. The lights were dimmed but not out completely, which gave way for the moon to shine in as its own source of light. Had you been carrying a candle in a brass holder you would’ve thought you stumbled into one of those old gothic novels. You didn’t have a real destination in mind, but you made sure you remembered which room you were assigned to just in case. 

At some point during the night, you ended up in one of the lounge rooms, curled up on a couch facing the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, and looked up at all the stars. It has always been a comfort for you. You even began reading about them in an attempt to stay awake back in the human world. You thought you could recognize some of the constellations, but there are always a few stars here and there that turn it into an unrecognizable shape. At least you have new material to read about when you’re back in your room at the House of Lamentation. 

The soft calling of your name from the door broke your serene silence followed by a, “Is that you?”

A small gasp managed to escape your throat before you were able to put your hands over your mouth. You curled into yourself at first so whoever it was can’t see your head poking out from the back. After a few seconds, it finally clicked as to who it was.

Sheepishly, you stick your head out. “Hi, Barbatos.” You said, voice croaking in unexpected use. Even though it was dark and his figure obscured, you could make out that he was holding some kind of tray. “Am I not supposed to be here? I’m sorry. I’ll go back and…”

“It’s fine.” He assured you. “I heard someone walking around, so I’ve taken the liberty to brew some chamomile tea for them should they feel restless. Would you like some?”

“...”

Tea does sound nice, but the fact that it was chamomile made you hesitate. At the same time, Barbatos just made it, so it would be rude to let it go to waste.

“...That would be nice. Thank you.”

He made his way over to the other side of the couch. Part of you wanted to sit up and be proper when drinking, but even thinking about adjusting your posture makes you tired. Still, you make an effort to reach over to take the tea cup from the butler’s hands. Barbatos took this opportunity to start talking. 

“This is your first time spending the night at a castle, I presume?” You made an affirmative noise as you sipped, not wanting to point out that it’s not just any castle you’re sleeping at. “I reckon slipping in a new bed right as you got settled in would put anyone’s nerves on edge.”

You put your cup down as you replied, “I guess you can say that.” 

He looks at you quizzically. “Is something amiss? I’ll inform the Young Master right away.”

“It’s…It’s fine, Barbatos. Thanks for worrying.” You took another sip before letting out a sigh. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping, you can say. I get…these really bad nightmares that make me stay up for days on end. They were so terrifying and real…I kept wondering if I was losing my mind. I’ve tried every remedy in the book to stop them but…” You stopped to let a yawn out. “Sorry…As I was saying, I tried everything the doctors thought could help me. They even brought in a priest thinking it was ‘dream demons’ or something.” You paused, replaying the last thing you said. “Are dream demons even a thing here?”

“They are a form of lesser demons, yes.” The butler answered. “They’re relatively harmless as individual beings, but can pose a threat in large numbers or if they get close to a human.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” You told him bitterly. 

“If it brings you any comfort, just know that they’re not powerful enough to be able to enter the human world on their own. Only certain powerful demons have the authority to travel to that realm directly. Such as the Young Master and Lucifer, for example.”

You couldn’t help but huff out air through your nose in relief. Suck on that, Pastor John. 

“...So yeah. Just before I was summoned here, they put me on a clinical trial for a medication that…reduces? Suppress? It, like, stops giving me dreams entirely, and they work. Forgot the name though. And I coincidentally ran out just before I was transferred here so…yeah.” Your eyes looked over to the butler. “Sorry I didn’t mention it earlier, I guess. I keep getting roped into whatever the brothers get themselves into that I never really had time to check on myself.”

Barbatos didn’t respond immediately. You were too busy concentrating on balancing the tea on your stomach to spare a glance over to your nighttime companion to see what kind of face he was making. Would he make one? Shouldn’t he have known of this malady when your file was being processed? Maybe, because of their biology, demons don’t worry about these kinds of conditions. You mulled around internally in a tired haze before realizing that your eyes were slowly creeping shut. With a soft sigh, you moved the plate to the nearest table and stood up slowly.

“Anyways, thanks for the tea. Compliments to the chef.” You couldn’t help but let out a big stretch followed by an even bigger yawn. “I’ll head back to bed now. No guarantee I’ll sleep though.” You let out a huff that was supposed to be your attempt at a dry laugh. “You should get some rest too. Big day ahead, y’know? See you in the morning.” And with that, you exited the room and into the dim hallway.

The small smile Barbatos had dropped as soon as your back was turned to him. It was no secret that your time as a transfer student was being hindered by your lack of sleep. Even your recent medical file was perplexing in figuring out the cause of this disorder. It’s not genetic nor was it caused by a major traumatic event. Perhaps it’s something else? You did mention dream demons, after all, albeit it was more of a speculative idea that was brought up by your doctors in order to get a man of the cloth involved. It definitely couldn’t be Belphegor’s meddling, he thinks. He wouldn’t know about the human’s arrival.

It looks like he’ll have to do some digging after this exchange party concludes. He might need to start gathering evidence now while the human is still here. Diavolo will need to get involved, there’s no doubt about that. He would do anything to ensure the health and safety of the exchange students, after all. 

~

When everyone converged for a tour around the castle, some had noted that you looked less sluggish than usual. You simply waved them off, making up an excuse about the mattress not being up to human standards. Hopefully, you didn’t offend the demon prince when you said that. 

Still, you can’t deny that you feel a little well-rested. You did remember trying a method where you close your eyes for 15 minutes, wake up for another 15, close your eyes again, rinse and repeat. You usually had an alarm for this technique, but you didn’t want to disturb Simeon or Asmodeus as much as you already did slipping in and out of bed. You didn’t think you were able to keep track, but you did somehow, give or take a few minutes. Now you can actually pay attention to that cute little demon acting as the tour guide, explaining the intricate history of all the subjects painted on these beautifully crafted portraits. You couldn’t help but smile seeing Diavolo puffing his chest in pride when the Little D started talking about his father, the current Demon King. 

(But when it was mentioned that he's been sleeping at the bottom of Devildom for millennia you couldn't help but feel jealous. The most powerful being of all the realms is casually sleeping the decades away while you don’t even get the privilege of an hour of uninterrupted rest.)

You looked at the other paintings decorating the hall. Some plaques are written in what you can only presume is some kind of archaic language that only demons would know. If you could understand at least a part of it, then maybe you can get a deeper understanding of these pictures. 

A gentle call of your name and a not-so-gentle clap on your back broke your weak concentration. You tore your eyes away to meet Diavolo’s gentle gaze. “I see that her beauty managed to draw you in?” 

You blinked, trying to process what he said. “I-I’m sorry, whose beauty? I was…too focused on figuring out what the plaque said.” You managed to blurt out, causing the prince to chuckle.

“Oh, that? It simply reads ‘The Queen of Devildom’. In other words, that’s my mother.” His gaze turned to the painting, but you stayed fixated on him. He continued by adding, “This painting and some vague memories are all I have of her. She passed away several centuries ago when I was still an infant. My father would always talk about how…” And he continued to drone on from there. It wasn’t his fault, and you were genuinely trying to cling on to every word he’s saying because it’s important to him and you wanted to leave a good impression. On the other hand, the bleariness in your eyes started to cloud your vision again as a result of your lack of sleep. So you avert your gaze back to the painting unintentionally so you can wipe it away, biting your tongue to restrain the yawn that comes with it. Part of you hopes that Diavolo thinks that you’re speechless and moved to tears.

That thought quickly vanished when you opened your eyes to the painting. 

There was a choking noise, and you almost didn’t realize it came from you. It felt like the world around you completely disappeared, and only you and Him were the only inhabitants. 

Devildom seemed to freeze over the moment you made direct eye contact with the painted eyes of your tormentor. His scarred face did nothing to hide that cocky smirk he loves to wear. He’s holding up his bloodied claw to you in a way that couldn’t be anything else but a taunting gesture, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. His other hand wrapped around the back of a bloodied woman. By the way, the painting is framed, you assumed she was supposed to be sitting. Unfortunately, you know that’s not the case here. Her head dipped back, obscuring her face from you. You assumed she was originally wearing either a white or a similar light-colored dress, but that didn’t matter as it was dyed by the blood seeping out of that four-lined wound in her chest that you knew all too well. Just the sight alone made you reach for your hip where an old wound dimly throbs at the clothed contact. 

You didn’t dare move your gaze. You needed to keep an eye on him. 

“Hey…!”

You knew it. This opportunity to fly off his radar and find a way to kill him for good while he’s not looking was too good to be true.

“...!”

How did he even get here? Did he follow you down when you got summoned? What will he-

“...!!”

Time seemed to resume the second someone grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you around. You wanted-no, needed to keep an eye on him. Sadly, you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. Instead, you were forced to look at Diavolo's worried eyes. You didn’t even let him get a word in before you began panicking. 

“What have you done?!” You yelled. You pointed to the painting behind you. “Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you!”

“Protect us from…who?”

“Him!” You pointed to the portrait.

Only the painted eyes of a woman stare back at you.

It was too late for you now. The moment you allow yourself even to think you’re away from his control, you end right back into his hands. 

Nowhere is safe, not even in hell.

A maniacal laugh fills your ears as everyone crowds around your panicked state.

[nnnneeev]

(all) obey me characters with gn!mc who gets immersed in doing something that they forgot to eat their meal

Lucifer

"...good grief”

will constantly remind you to eat your meals. have you forgotten that you’re human?

gives you a stern lecture about the bad effects of skipping meals. i hope you learned your lesson now

if you still forget, he might just have to use his last resort..

that’s right, he’ll prepare you your meal himself. no you cannot reject it. he needs to witness you eating it with his own two eyes

Mammon

"what do you mean you forgot?”

a bit clueless but then he remembered that constantly skipping meals are bad for humans

what if you passed out from hunger??!

gives you cup noodles. well, it’s better than nothing!

you’re not allowed to complain. that’s all he's got right now. promises to treat you something better next time

Levi

"Well I haven’t eaten anything since morning.”

he knows the feeling. he’d also get immersed in gaming that he constantly loose track of the time

even though there’s snacks lying around his room..

maybe you can both share these rainbow pizza together?

cheers to the team ‘woops i forgot to eat again’

Satan

“Eating proper meals are vital for a human to survive.”

invites you to a cafe. you need to wind down for a bit and eat something

better late than eat nothing at all

suggests you to try the pomodoro method

makes you something to drink as well. it’s not much but aside from eating, you also need to stay hydrated

Asmo

"WHAT?! Oh no, hon. We’re going to hell’s kitchen RIGHT NOW!”

seriously? how could you forget? you’re not on a diet, are you?

nuh-uh. you’re not going to skip your meal. not on his watch

oh you often lose track of the time? how about he spoon feeds you instead? <3

skipping meals is bad for your skin, darling. make sure you don’t forget now, okay?

Beel

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

boy will make it his sworn duty to always remind you to eat

worries about you. he can’t even imagine what would it feel like to skip meals

will pick you up in your room every dinner time

he knows what you’re doing right now is important, but eating to replenish your strength is also important, y’know?

Belphie

“..is that so?”

will order something if you like. cooking is too bothersome

lets you do your own thing

but if you’re still constantly forgetting it, he’s gonna pull his youngest brother card on you

tries to catch your attention/clings on you like a koala. will not let you go until you come down to the dining hall with him

Diavolo

“Aren’t humans supposed to eat at least three times a day?”

ohhh so humans tend to forget something important like this, i see i see

Will ask barbatos to prepare you something. eat up!

proposes to do your works together. in that way, missing your meals would be impossible

reviews what the stuff you’re working on is all about (despite his tight schedule). maybe he can do something to lessen your workload

Barbatos

"Oh dear, that’s no good. You should take care of yourself more often.”

will cook for you, that’s a given

the food he made is nutritionally balanced; calculated to perfection to make up with the energy you lost

pairs it with tea. it will help you relax

keeps a mental note to himself about this habit of yours

Luke

"You should at least eat something, you know?!”

scolds you for not taking care of yourself

will deliver you cookies to snack on after you ate your meal

‘Solomon said that eating sugar gives you energy... so i prepared this for you!’

will also leave some cute motivational notes together with the sweets

Simeon

"You forgot...? I see. I’ll bring you something so stay put, okay?”

makes you his signature BLT sandwich

sandwiches are great snack when working on something that requires a lot of focus

he’s made sure to add extra servings of your favorite sides

leaves it on your table and will check on you from time to time 

Solomon

"Stay right there. I’ll whip something up for you real quick.” “Solomon, you really don’t have to...” “No, I insist. I promise you’re gonna like this.”

it’s a great opportunity for him to try this new and improved recipe of his

sorry it’s too late to stop him now. you’ll just have to prepare for the worst..

got too enthusiastic in cooking that he already blew the kitchen up three times

just.. ignore those explosions and focus on what you’re doing

Thirteen

"I have some leftovers here. Not sure if you’ll like it, but it’s still better than whatever that damned sorcerer has to offer”

your name’s not on the list so she’s not that worried that you’ll die from hunger

but you’re still human. aren’t you supposed to eat something at least?

there’s a shop that just opened recently. wanna go check it out? yea just forget whatever you were doing earlier. let’s have fun instead!

her treat since she’s the one who invited you to go with her

Raphael

"We have plenty of leftovers from last night. Solomon made it so I’m sure it tastes amazing.”

no? well, how about an apple?

will keep an eye on you from a distance

you were too focused that you didn’t even notice someone leaving snacks on your desk (or maybe it’s just because he’s too stealthy)

sometimes it’s a cupcake, oftentimes it’s an unidentified matter

Mephisto

“Are humans really this careless? Just what will Lord Diavolo say I let a human like you collapse from hunger?

mc think of what will happen to diavolo’s reputation if a human got sick because they’re not eating well

you’re not doing this on purpose, are you? ..no? are humans really like this?

brace yourself because you’re about to get the fanciest, most expensive-looking full-course meal you’ll ever get

prepared by his personal chef ofc. consider yourself lucky

[youchangedmedestiel]

What happens when I have a fic idea:

Then:

Eventually I start running in the right direction:

And finally:

Before it's too late. Before the moment is gone. Before the vibe left the brain.

My last idea: Dean is dancing and singing in the library, knowing everybody is out somewhere else. At first he is shy and then he goes wild but by then Cas walks in on him and falls in love all over again.

[lunarharp]

5 favourite drawings from the first half of 2023 (all witch hat atelier.)

[frantic-fuck]

Snakelet - Chapter 8

@augusnippets Day 16 - Humiliation

Word Count: 435

Masterpost

Content: NSFWhump (implied noncon afterwards), coercion, death threats, creepy whumper

~

A shock tears through Ziri's system, abruptly yanking him out of his quasi-hibernation. He wearily looks up at the figure towering above him.

"Good morning, pretty boy~"

He groans and looks at the floor.

"Oh, don't be like that. What, you think I'm just gonna hack at you with an iron axe or something?"

He cringes at the thought.

"Don't be silly. I don't like iron any more than you. And I'm sure you could use a break from the stuff anyway, hm~?"

He likes what they're saying. He doesn't like the way they're saying it.

It doesn't matter. They'll do whatever they want to him anyway. He just sighs in response, continuing to stare blankly at the floor.

"Mm. I'm gonna need a bit more cooperation than that today, pretty boy. That is, if you want to live to see your precious sibling, of course."

He locks eyes with them.

"Y-you.. can't.. kill me."

"Sure I can! All I gotta do is take you to the feywild and put a bullet between your eyes, right? Not like Nerium will care. It'll probably make things easier on them, honestly. No more silly little moral conundrum, they can just lob your body at Janessa and be done with it."

A pit forms in his stomach.

"Might.. come back.."

"I'll put a tracker in you, then. And then I'll find you and kill you again, and again, and again, slower and slower each time, until you finally die for good."

Trembles wrack his exhausted, broken body.

"...Please don't."

With a grin, they step on the base of his leash, forcing his face to stay pressed against their boot.

"That's it. Beg for your life, pretty boy."

"P-please. Please let me live. Please."

"Master. Call me master."

"Please, master." The word feels dirty on his tongue. "Please don't kill me, master."

"Ohh, that's it. Keep going."

He rasps out desperate pleas, terror jolting through him at the sound of a belt unbuckling.

"Ask what I want you to do for me."

"W-what you— what do you want me to do for you, master?"

They let out a breathy laugh. "Tell me you'll do anything."

He grimaces, the weight of his helplessness pressing down on him as he hears the belt pulled from the loops. "I'll.. I'll do anything, master."

"That's what I like to hear." He flinches at the sound of leather striking their palm. "A little birdie told me all you satyrs are sluts. I want you to prove it."

In an embarrassingly small voice, he whimpers, "I'm.. out of practice.."

"Then you better remember quick, huh?"

[silverware-is-interesting]

When Life Gives You Lemons

idk what im doing tbh but i was just fucking around after i finished a thing and killed the quality and. it looks funny so

if people like this enough i might give tumblr the 1048p version without the filters. idk. well see maybe just the 480p version. maybe none. not sure :/

it kinda looks like a (bad) segment from an analog horror video

[daniels-swagger]

What if I hypothetically wrote a smutty little danny x reader series based on another pop song... hypothetically.... of course... what if the song was hypothetically bed chem by sabrina carpenter...

ALL HYPOTHETICAL, OF COURSE.....

[novafire-is-thinking]

nono tell us the angst i wanna hear it

You asked. You are receiving :)

Rodimus never liked looking back much, but here he found himself, scrolling through old photos in the dark of his room. For some reason, the cracks on his phone screen seemed worse than before. He’d never bothered with repairs, as the device had continued working just fine. It wasn’t like he could afford to get it fixed anyway. The last few years hadn’t been kind, and the future didn’t look much better, which was probably why he was willing to look backwards to get a taste of better times.

When he made it back far enough to the moments he captured during the Lost Light adventure— his Lost Light adventure, he lingered on each one a little longer than the last.

A group pic of the entire medical crew, including that Decepticon mechanic— what was her name? Nickel?

A video of Drift getting his ass kicked by Cyclonus in a duel.

Magnus in the supersized armor Brainstorm had slapped together for the showdown with the DJD.

Soon, Rodimus was tired of keeping company with nostalgia. There was no use looking back when those days and those feelings were long-gone.

He began swiping faster, not really having a goal in mind except to escape the pull of the sadness that was trying to settle inside him. Drift was better with feelings. He’d often teased Rodimus about that fact.

I miss you, Drift. My feelings felt safe when you were around. Nowadays, they just taunt me.

Familiar gray flew across the screen beneath his thumb. Rodimus swiped back until he found the source.

A small laugh escaped him. The photo was one of many selfies he’d taken during his adventure. What set it apart from the others was a camera-shy Megatron in the background, trying his best to avoid the picture by sliding his head down into his chest.

Rodimus didn’t have many photos with Megatron. It was ironic that the guy who spent most of his life in the spotlight commanding armies and not-armies turned out to hate focused attention. Then again, drawing up battle plans and bossing others around is very different from being forced to do almost nothing while having a picture taken.

That thought struck something deep inside Rodimus. He realized he understood Megatron, in this respect. They were different in many ways, but they both had trouble just being. Forward momentum was everything to both of them. Rodimus chased the thrill of the next exciting thing while Megatron had chased the thrill of power. Of conquest.

Part of him fought against the newfound revelation, but another part of him welcomed it. The sudden need to share this with Megatron rose up within him.

But reality followed closely behind.

Megatron was gone.

The trial had taken place several years ago—the exact year forgotten by Rodimus. The memory that spilled back into his consciousness first was of the crowds surrounding Raskol Arena.

The arena. That horrible, beautiful arena.

He remembered the angry crowd of bots, many of whom were holding signs stained with their own energon. The message was clear. Decepticons blamed Megatron for leading them down a path with nothing but pain to show for it while the Autobots blamed him for that and everything else. Neutrals weren’t any less angry for their own reasons.

As usual, Rodimus had arrived late. He nearly got his head smashed in by angry spectators as he shoved his way through them to get into the stadium. Similar to last time, a limit had been placed on how many were allowed into the stadium with pre-approved individuals taking priority before regular civilians were allowed inside. This meant most of those who had come to watch were forced to stay outside, which did nothing to ease the tension.

Compared to the last attempt at a trial, security was much tighter. Rodimus had struggled to get proper clearance until Prowl intervened. He was the last bot Rodimus expected to speak on his behalf, but he was grateful. Rodimus had hoped to get information from Prowl about the planned proceedings, but the weary strategist was locked into “job mode” and wouldn’t share anything as he helped Rodimus find a spot from where he could watch without trouble.

With a sharp comment about not being late next time if he wants to get in, Prowl turned around quickly and walked off. Rodimus watched Prowl until the tips of his gold chevron disappeared into the crowd. I’ll ask someone else later, then.

The first day of proceedings went relatively smoothly. This time, it was the Galactic Council that had gathered to preside over the trial, but it was no less tense. Witnesses were called up. Heated words were exchanged. Nothing new.

Day two arrived, and Rodimus managed to show up on time, by some miracle. Drift was waiting for him. He said something about Prowl sending him to keep an eye out for a certain straggler. They both knew what he’d meant.

Drift led Rodimus to their seats. As soon as they sat down, Drift caught Rodimus up on everything Prowl had told him.

Oh, so he’ll talk to the former Decepticon, but not me?

Rodimus was glad he didn’t put much effort into trying to understand Prowl. He figured he’d probably end up driving himself crazy. But if Rodimus was honest with himself, he was glad guys like Prowl existed, despite how much he hated being around him. Rodimus knew he wouldn’t be any good in Prowl’s position as a prosecutor, especially in a trial as huge as Megatron’s.

The day was as uneventful as the first one. Besides the angry crowd outside and the occasional disruption, everyone remained relatively civil as witness after witness was called up. It was almost eerie.

Each day after that, Rodimus managed to arrive on time, and Drift was always there to meet him.

Eventually, Rodimus gave his testimony on behalf of Megatron. It was the last day of the trial, and everyone was anxious to be done with it. Rodimus was torn between wanting it to be over and dreading the end.

During a recess, Rodimus met up with Magnus, who escorted him to Megatron’s cell for what he assumed was his final visit.

To Rodimus, Megatron seemed oddly serene for someone about to be sentenced either to death or infinite imprisonment. As they talked, Rodimus guessed that, like him, Megatron had more to say, but was holding back. However, unlike Drift, he wasn’t any good at coaxing others to open up, so he let those words go unspoken.

When Ultra Magnus returned and announced that a verdict had been reached, Rodimus fell silent. He watched as Magnus and Megatron said their goodbyes and let Megatron say his final piece.

Sure, Megatron deserved much more than whatever was coming to him, but it still saddened Rodimus to hear it from his friend.

Friend.

Yes. Rodimus was finally ready to admit that, against all odds, Megatron had indeed become a friend to him. It was a bit late to accept it, but he refused to fight it this time.

Before he had a chance to say anything to Megatron, the former warlord was on his way back to the sentencing chamber with Ultra Magnus. Rodimus looked down at the broken Rodimus Star in his hand and ran his thumb over the cracks and the jagged edge where a piece was missing.

With resolve, he ran as fast as he could to join everyone else for the declaration of the final verdict. He located Drift in the frenzy of anxious spectators, and the two of them made their way to their seats.

Despite the lack of a roof, the entire place felt suffocating to Rodimus as the Galactic Council took their seats and requested that Megatron stand to his feet. Ultra Magnus rose with him.

The silence of the crowd was unnerving. Rodimus noticed Prowl and several security guards step up onto the elevated platform, closing in around Megatron and Magnus. They expected trouble.

As soon as the words “to be executed” were uttered, the silence was shattered by a deafening roar from the crowd inside the stadium and from outside its walls.

Within moments, the shouts of victory were replaced with shouts of anger and panic. Absolute chaos ensued. Rodimus looked back and registered a wave of bots pouring in. The crowd outside had broken through security forces and was pouring into the stadium at a stampede’s pace from multiple entrances, even some that had been previously closed off. Those already inside began to panic.

On instinct, Rodimus grabbed Drift and started making his way toward the middle of the stadium, as he figured that was where everyone would inevitably be pushed. It was better than possibly getting trampled, and some crazy part of him still hoped to say something—anything to Megatron one last time.

Rodimus noticed Prowl standing in front of Megatron on the elevated platform, shouting commands over comms and directing security forces to surround the two of them, Magnus, and the Galactic Council.

Nice going, Prowl. You might make my energon boil, but I’ll admit you’re pretty damn good at keeping people alive when all hell breaks loose.

Drift had no trouble keeping up with Rodimus. The two of them darted and wormed their way through the obstacle course of panicked bots. Whatever barriers were put in place did nothing to stop the frenzied mass of bodies making its way toward the middle of the stadium.

Those who had flight-capable alt modes took to the skies and escaped that way. Some with ground modes transformed, but with nowhere to go, they were pushed around or climbed over.

Rodimus abandoned himself to the rush of adrenaline surging through him. He and Drift were close to reaching the center when the crowd suddenly shifted and closed in further.

The pathway to Megatron was blocked.

Despite his best attempts, Rodimus was unable to break through. Beside him, Drift looked ready to draw both of his swords, as things were quickly going from bad to worse with bots getting trampled several rows behind them, if one could even call them rows.

Megatron and the rest of the middle group were secure within their ring of security guards, although things were getting tight there too.

A break in the crowd opened up for a split-second, allowing Rodimus and Drift to move a few feet closer to the inner circle.

Now close enough for Megatron to see him, Rodimus began waving both his hands above his head and shouting Megatron’s name. Never mind the fact that it was way too loud to hear each other speak if he did manage to get his attention. Rodimus just wanted one last something from Megatron. In all likelihood, this was the last time they’d lay eyes on each other, and Rodimus refused to let him go without a last goodbye.

Drift joined him in trying to get Megatron’s attention. The two of them had made it this far together, and Rodimus found himself smiling at how ridiculous they must look to everyone else.

Finally, Megatron noticed them. He locked eyes with Rodimus first, and then Drift.

He smiled.

Rodimus liked to think that if Megatron had been uncuffed, he would have waved back at them. Now that they’d seen each other, Rodimus and Drift stopped waving, unsure of what to do next.

The smile on Megatron’s face faded. A somber look was in its place, and he appeared to be contemplating something.

After a moment, he met Rodimus’ eyes again and shouted something.

Unable to hear above the steadily increasing panic around them, Rodimus stared at Megatron in confusion. The guards were beginning to close in further around the inner circle and pull him out of sight.

Megatron tried again, but this time, he chose not to use his voice and instead focused on mouthing the words:

Thank you.

He looked at Drift and did the same.

Before Rodimus could fully register what Megatron had said, he was out of sight. Then Prowl yelled at Soundwave over comms.

Something pierced the air—a sound so deafening it was disorienting. Everyone covered their audio receptors, doubled over in pain, or both.

It didn’t take long for bots on the outer edges to start making their way out of the stadium, gradually freeing up space inside.

Once the stadium was empty enough, the sound ceased. Using the stadium’s PA system, Prowl coldly apologized for the disturbance and asked everyone who remained to vacate the premises. Calmly.

Drift was ready to leave, but Rodimus had other plans. He waited until almost everyone had cleared out before trotting back toward the center where Prowl was. As he approached him, he noticed a piece of Prowl’s chevron was missing on the left side, probably lost during the commotion of earlier.

As soon as the strategist laid eyes on him, he scowled.

“Did Soundwave’s trick make you deaf? I told everyone to leave.”

“Oh, so that was Soundwave, was it? Not surprised you had a plan.”

Prowl scoffed. “Of course I had a plan. All those bots in one place during the biggest trial in Cybertronian history wasn’t going to end any other way.”

“Maybe not,” Rodimus replied.

They fell into an awkward silence.

Prowl shifted. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of.”

Rodimus pulled out the broken Rodimus Star and held it, feeling the jagged edge again. He glanced up at Prowl.

“You should probably get that fixed,” he said, gesturing to the damaged chevron. The old red peeked out from under the gold.

Prowl lifted his hand and felt where Rodimus had pointed. “Great. It’s broken again.”

“Again?” Rodimus questioned.

“Long story. Not telling. Just get to your point, unless you’re really wasting my time by giving me aesthetic recommendations.”

Rodimus chuckled. “Same old Prowl.”

“You have no idea.”

“Yeah, I probably don’t. Anyway”—Rodimus held out the Rodimus Star to Prowl— “Thought I’d give you this.”

Prowl stared blankly at the gold star. “What is it?”

“Consider it an award for keeping people alive today.”

This earned Rodimus a glare.

“Why would I want a worthless trinket for doing my job?”

Rodimus sighed. “It’s not a ‘worthless trinket,’ Prowl. It’s something I would give to members of my crew for doing something I thought should be recognized. Something they’re good at.”

Prowl considered the explanation. “I see.”

Based on the skepticism in Prowl’s voice, Rodimus guessed he was thinking of every reason why it was ridiculous. It was a star. With Rodimus’ face on it.

He held the star up to Prowl’s face. “Just take it, okay? I don’t care if you think it’s stupid.”

Prowl took the star from Rodimus and scrutinized it.

Rodimus continued. “And don’t you dare throw it out or lose the thing somewhere. It��It means a lot to me and someone else I know.”

Once satisfied that Prowl was serious about keeping his reward, Rodimus turned to leave.

“Thank you,” came Prowl’s delayed response.

Rodimus turned around and gave Prowl a thumbs-up and a smile as he jogged back towards Drift who’d been patiently waiting for him near the exit.

Rodimus smiled sadly at the memories.

He thought about how Megatron had been taken away before he’d had a chance to respond to him.

He thought about Prowl and wondered if the guy still had that silly little star.

The photo on his phone beckoned him again. Rodimus ran the tip of his thumb over the cracked phone screen, noticing this time how the cracks over Megatron’s half-hidden face were the worst.

“You’re welcome, Megs.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Rodimus pulled up Prowl’s old number and sent the photo to him with two words:

“You’re welcome.”

[vincentsleftear]

12am and I’m up finally cleaning my depression room. I can’t control when inspiration strikes.

[radchaaipopsongs]

Are we allowed to submit songs that we’ve translated on our own, or only make requests?

You can definitely submit songs you've translated! That's been....actually, I can't think of when someone requested a song be translated, most if not all that's been sent me has been a translation. So yes, and thank you!

--Translator Dalmonte

[blainesebastian]

guys apparently my austin x reader oneshots are just...either 2k or 5 like there’s no in-between anymore lsdkjfs

[seyaryminamoto]

I’m rereading Gladiator earlier chapters and I just want to tell you how beautiful it is that you build Sokka and Azula relationship in a way that they’re not only lovers but also each other’s best friends. The way they joke together and have lots of fun by being near each other even though they’re always dealing with threats to their lives. I know it’ll be a while before they reunite, but I’m sure it’ll be amazing! For now, I’m enjoying this recent chapters very much.

Aaaah, you guys really have been so nice in my inbox lately! Thank you so much for saying this! I mean, it's really no surprise or secret that my absolute favorite thing about writing these two is developing and fleshing out their relationship x'D kinda goes without saying. Even when they develop great bonds with other people, as has happened in Gladiator, the connection between them is always so strong and so unique that I just thrive in exploring it as many times as I can. Of course, building them up into the power couple they became wasn't effortless, they always need lots of development before they reach the stage of being in a perfectly healthy relationship... but damn, everything is so much more beautiful once they do reach that stage.

Some people really relish in the will-they-won't-they and the struggle leading up to the characters finally choosing to be together... with these two, I realized I wanted to see what came afterwards even more than what led up to their decision to be together. All the wonderful times from Part 2, even amidst all the chaos, were so much fun to write because they're the reason why we struggled so much in the first place. Those great times are the payoff that Sokka and Azula earned after growing into people who could be in this relationship wholeheartedly... and it's also the promise they cling to as they fight for their relationship as fiercely as they still do: they know what that happiness and companionship feel like, they know their bond is one-of-a-kind, they know they want to choose each other over and over again... I'd say these two really have redefined how I want to write romance for as long as I'm a writer x'D being with your favorite person in the entire world, even if you're just standing side by side making bad jokes together, should always be an enjoyable, if not outright thrilling situation, and these two certainly feel that way in Gladiator <3 I've always hoped I captured that feeling properly in the story, and asks like this one make me even more hopeful that I pulled it off!

I so look forward to writing their full reunion too TToTT really hoping I'll do it this year. The eagerness to write them together again is so powerful I've had to circumvent it with... strange tactics xD you'll start to see them quite soon, actually... :'D Thank you so much for the nice ask, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

[katyspersonal]

[missroserose]

I was literally just talking about this phenomenon to a friend last night—it's not just Twitter, it's capitalism as a whole. The entire system is designed to prod us into doing more, more, more—the oft-lamented algorithmically-driven make-number-go-up aspect of social media isn't some quirk of the system, it's inherent to the system.

Look, I'll be up front for a minute: my husband and I are financially well off. Not 1% or even 10% rich, but straddling the line between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie—he works in tech and makes a solid salary even by 2023 standards, and I supplement our income as an independent massage therapist (and, not to toot my own horn, I'm very good at what I do and charge accordingly.)

A decade ago, this was not the case. We went through a seriously rough patch post-2008 crash: cross-country move for a job at a company that turned out to be unethical and pulled all sorts of illegal shit including wage theft, nobody else in the area hiring once Brian finally got sick of them and quit, snowballing credit card debt from the move (moving out of Alaska is expensive) and car repairs and household expenses and literally just trying to live. (I have an extremely vivid memory of listening to "Livin' On A Prayer" and really feeling the lyrics in a way I never expected to.)

By 2013, we were through the worst of it (thanks to job help from friends and financial help from family), but we still were living on his salary alone. I had reason recently to pull up our old budget spreadsheets from ten years ago, and it really drove home just how close to the wire we were—barely anything saved, regular payments towards debts, a piddling retirement account that we ended up raiding to finance the move to Chicago. By comparison, we now have two incomes, a mortgage on a nice-if-not-new condo, no credit card debt, a healthy-if-still-small-for-our-age 401(k), and a savings account that would've made ten-years-ago-me weep with envy.

And—and here's the thing—on some level, I'm still convinced that it's not enough. Sure we have a healthy emergency fund, but what we should really have is six months' expenses in savings. Sure we go to shows and take vacations and buy things like a 3D printer or robot parts or stripper shoes, but it always comes laced with guilt—we shouldn't really be doing that, not until we have enough to be safe. Sure we're able to pay off our credit cards now, but what if someday we can't? It'll be all our fault for not saving more, not earning more, not doing more.

Because that's capitalism. It's that nasty little voice in the back of our minds, the one that we've all internalized, that says we should all, constantly, be doing more. That it's all on you, that if you're broke or unpopular or whatever-the-fuck metric you're measuring by, it's because you're lazy. Elon Musk is a particularly hilarious example, because he's so often held up as the ideal of someone who's made it—he has more wealth than most of us can literally conceptualize, he owns multiple companies, he's admired as a genius by a big (if perhaps shrinking) chunk of the population. But even he can't escape the need to do more—he has the money and the clout to game the system, but no concurrent understanding of the fact that the system was bullshit to begin with.

This is why I laugh so much when I see people talking about the "unique" effect of algorithm-driven social media, how unnatural and addictive and detrimental it is. All it does is give us numbers—the number of friends we have, the number of likes we get, the number of times people share our content. It gives us hard numbers by which we can quantify (and, more importantly, compare) our social clout, and we've been taught our whole lives that where we're associated with a number, we need to do everything we can to make that number go up.

Algorithmic social media (as practiced by Instagram, Facebook, Tiktok, et al) isn't a quirk, it's a mirror. And it's worth spending some time looking into it and thinking hard about how we define enough.

this comment on a vid about elon musk was so good i had to save it

[robinsnest2111]

hoooooo got reminded of the existence of the fem!crüe smut I wrote a while ago

looking back, I can hardly believe that I Wrote That 😳👉👈