#Tw threat of violence

[lexirosewrites]

“just the tip” but the tip is of eddie’s knife because he gets off on murder. he can’t bring himself to go all the way with his steve because he loves him too much and steve is just his sweet and willing victim along for the ride🥰

[serickswrites]

Or Else

Warnings: restraints, captivity, torture, slap, physical violence, threat of violence, defiant whumpee

"You're going to give me exactly what I want, Whumpee. And I want to know all of Organization's plans." Whumper said as they loomed over Whumpee whom they had bound tightly to the chair.

Whumpee smirked, looking as nonchalant as possible while roped to a folding chair. "Well we both know I'm not going to do that."

"You're going to tell me! Or else!" Whumper said through gritted teeth, their eyes narrowed.

"Or else what? You're going to spend more time with me? That's all you've got, Whumper."

"You'll be sorry," Whumper warned.

Whumpee rolled their eyes. "Give me a break. There's nothing you can do that will make me talk."

Without warning, Whumper backhanded Whumpee hard across the face. Whumpee's head rocked to the side with the force. Fortunately, the chair stayed in place as Whumper had bolted it to the floor hours before. They hadn't wanted Whumpee trying to escape.

Whumpee pouted. "That was uncalled for, Whumper."

Whumper raised a clenched fist. "TELL ME!"

"Make me," Whumpee's eyes glinted with defiance. "There is nothing you can do, Whumper. I will never, ever tell you."

[corpsesrottinginacelestialgarden]

UPDATE: The entire blog was nuked. Goodbye and good riddance.

I don't normally make posts like this, but what the actual fuck? How are accounts like this allowed to continue existing? The amount of inciting violence and encouraging suicide against trans women on this blog are un-fucking-real.

[yourfriendlybi]

Tree Children & an Old God

Auther comment: This was made a while ago and it's formatting is a bit of a mess, a little...

What path has led me here, the artist thought aimlessly. Currently, the mighty God of Creativity, The Protector of the Scripts, is being used as a pillow by two young teens. Hell, one of the kids was on TOP of him, using Ink as some sort of bed! 

Wait–

Ink cranked his neck to the side. Ew, Nightmare was drooling on him. Sighing, the artist tried to move Nightmare over, the teen wouldn’t budge, instead hugged the artist tighter in response.

“looks like you got your hands full, little brush.” A voice called out. Ink snapped his skull up to the voice, seeing it was simply Reaper, he relaxed. 

Ink chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that.” he smiled at the other God.

“so, you remember why you summoned me?” Reaper crossed his arms on top of his scythe, relaxed on it.

“Right.” Ink glance over the other sleeping teen, Dream, who was currently snoring peacefully. Ink looked back over at Reaper, “Can you teach Dream on how to fly?” the artist asked, his eyelight was yellow sun and an orange question mark.

“he… he doesn’t know how to fly?” Reaper sounded confused.

“Reaper,” Ink paused, “his mother is a tree. So no, he doesn’t know how to fly.”

“y-you mean that tree-” The God pointed at the tree with golden and midnight-colored apples. “-the one you three are laying under?” Reaper questioned; he was extremely confused. “also, how is his mom a tree?”

“Reaper, just answer the question, please.” Ink exhaled a sigh.

“sure?” Reaper answers, finally.

It was sunrise by the time the Nightmare and Dream woke up, Mister was still asleep, purring. Nightmare tried to get up but got pulled back down. Groaning, Nightmare harshly pokes Mister cheekbone over and over, trying to wake him up.

“Huh?” Mister grumbled under his breath.

“Can you let me go?” Nightmare asked, laying the side of his head on Mister sternum. The brown cloth felt soft and fuzzy on Nightmare's bones.

“Right, sorry kiddo.” The skeleton let go of the teen. Nightmare slid off of Mister, standing up and held a handout for him, in which Mister took and pulled himself up.

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Dream piped up, he was already up and standing.

“Brush our teeth first, then we can head to the nearby village.” Mister said, walking over to the stream. The Apple Twins followed him and chatted to each other.

“Do we have to?” Dream complained, he hated brushing his teeth; the “toothpaste”, as Mister called it, was spicy.

“Yes, Soleil (Sunshine), we have to. You don’t want your teeth to look like Mr. Deck? Do you?” Mister tilts his head to the teen.

“...No…” Dream shook his head.

“If it helps, I can get you another flavor, when I leave.” Mister suggested, he really should’ve given both the twins different flavors.

“Can I get a different flavor too?” Nightmare sheepishly asked.

Mister sighed. “Yeah, I’ll get you both different flavors.”

Ink had his hood up, shadowing half of his face; currently he was at the village’s plaza, trying to pass the time and probably get a few things for the twins. Speaking of the twins, the duo was holding hands, pointing at the stalls, and simply chatting away. The artist looked over the two, smiling fondly.

“Mister!” Nightmare called out, taking Ink out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Clair de lune? (Moonlight), did you both need something?” Ink asked.

“What’s your favorite color?” Nightmare asked, titling his head.

“Hmm, that's a tough question…” Ink paused and thought for a bit, “I guess, light greens and yellows…”

“Huh, didn’t think you were a green person.” Dream mumbled.

“I’m just full of surprises.” Ink chuckled.

Ink was paying for three small wooden jointed dolls, wanting to paint the twins and himself on the dolls later. The artist smiled at the salesperson, handing them a few coins and taking the dolls. He heard shouting and turned around, seeing a human raising their fist to his twins.

Something twisted in the artist's empty ribcage.

Speed walking to twins and the stranger, Ink asked “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

“Get your kids under control!” The human shouted at Ink.

Ink walked in front of the twins, standing right in front of the human. The artist's eyesight's were a bright red crosshair and a X.

He grabs the human shirt and drags them down to his level, whispering, “If I ever catch you threatening them again, I won’t hesitate to boil you alive, do you understand?”

The human nodded furiously.

“Good.” Ink sweetly says, letting go of the human’s shirt. Turning around, walking down the path that leads out of the plaza and into the forest. 

“C’mon kids, let’s go back to the Tree.” He called out to the teens, which in response, followed the artist.

Dream and Nightmare were racing down the old dirt path, skirting to a stop once they saw a figure by the tree. The twins glanced at each other nervously, they started walking toward the figure. As they got closer to the figure, they realized that the “figure” was a person.

The person was dressed in a black robe, with a rope tied around their waist and neck. They were wielding a scythe.

“Is that the Grim Reaper?” Dream whisper to Nightmare.

“Hey Reaps!” Mister called out to the Grim Reaper.

“Mister, you know the Grim Reaper?” Nightmare asked, startled from this new information.

“Yes, Mister is a very good friend of mine.” The Reaper replied, 

“What.” Dream blankly said.

“Anyways, your caretaker asked me to teach you,” Reaper pointed at

Dream, “on how to fly.”

“What.” Dream said, again.

Credits:

Ink!Sans - Comyet

DreamTale - JukoBlog

Reaper!Sans [ReaperTale] - Renrink

[willisjagerman]

(Ooc- another story point, this one in a different method. Thanks again to @krowsselfindulgy for beta reading. I will be putting warnings again at the beginning of all the parts. This is a four part story. Tw: violence, guns, gun use, gore, injury, implied past abuse, fighting, forcing someone to pray, verbal abuse, being hunted, weapons, and death. That’s all I can think of but I will try to as more if they come up.)

(With that part 1/4 of Maxwell’s Hunt. Warnings: mention past death, weapons, being hunted)

Willis is tired. He runs all he can yet the creatures and things in this forest seem to keep catching him. He knows some of those things are human. He knows some of those creatures he knows. Yet every time he comes back they’re different.

What he could have sworn was a teenage girl with a lighter became a monster of flame and teeth. So many teeth.

What was a boy in blue became a mass of glitches and the tics of a clock that he could only get glints of.

What he was sure the figure of Gary was not so, instead a new figure took his place, still human but one of unjust laws and crazed mentalities.

He doesn’t want to talk about what all he saw, what those people changed to or what creature’s true forms blurred into. Especially not that Richie boy. Willis knows not all of them where human, though those too shifted.

He’s sure that these are somehow projections of what Maxwell would think they’d look like in this place. All monsters of some kind.

Willis has been killed and or beaten many times, but he cannot die. He just comes back. Wakes up back at Maxwell’s house with the overgrow plants and chipping yellow paint. He never considered going into the house. It never crossed his mind but if it did he would know it would not work. The woods stretched on too long to be possible. Forever changing to keep him there. He knows this is Maxwell’s doing as well.

Willis has actually yet to see Maxwell though. This time when he takes of running, it’s not far before he comes to a meadow. The moonlight cast a soft glow over the place. While a peaceful and nice place like this should calm Willis. He advances into the meadow, collapsing in the middle for a short rest.

[theautumnriverleaves]

fyi the same brother that told me that if i were a man hed punch me in the face hard enough that id need an ambulance after also said that clearly im more fucked up than he is bc ive been in therapy 8 years and havent "gotten fixed" and he "graduated" (couples) therapy in 8 wks

[mushroom-for-art]

Just a lil extra for the A little different, was meant to be in the original and I want nuuh too tired then woke up more to do it anyways lmao

A little difference later

Tunnels twisting, turning branching off dead ends looping backwards. The orange hued mewtwo stopped quietly growling in the back of her throat as she looked around before loudly snarling at another. Her teeth bared energy summoned in her palms before pausing.

The crystal reflected her perfectly as she slowly approached, she touched the cool material of the floating blue crystal looking at herself and longing to be with another like her. She frowned looking at her hands as images flashed in the back of her mind. She opened and closed her hands, where were her claws?

She looked back to her reflection. She shut her eyes tight to block out the thought of the horrid twisting morphing forms of her siblings' floating bodies trying to recall them as they were. She peered at herself with one eye anxiously, no extra fluff or horns. She touched her horns; they didn't look spectacular in any way. She lifted her foot, 2 toed.. No claws or hooves.. She was.. She was just bland..

She'd never felt like the odd ball till left in her isolation. She had time to think now to see her differences or lack thereof. The others had been so varied..

Psychic claws appeared over her digits as she frustratedly clawed and slashed the crystals surface, slashing out her reflection at her face before she heard a quiet gasp.

She turned her head sharply to the tiny human. They stood frozen staring up at her in green clothes and hat. She turned slowly to face them slowly baring her teeth beginning to snarl as they reached for their bag. Humans reaching meant trouble. Grabbing annoying little shapes with other creatures to battle.

The green soft plush smacked her face as the human yelped in shock and ran away quietly screaming in sheer terror as a bellow of rage ripped from her throat. Her eyes hatefully gazing down at the offending item thrown her way.

It was, small, a strange little shaped thing green color lighter underbelly and smile. She slowly crouched down her palm resting on the head of the item. It was soft under her fingers. It's face distracted her as she slowly picked it up.

She kept it with her as she navigated the twisting turning cave system finally reaching the other side and escaping. She'd only gone in there looking for temporary shelter but had to go deeper to avoid more aggressive creatures.

She slowly delicately landed at the end of a familiar cave walking inside to the clutter of things she'd accumulated, various stolen items from human that got in her way. Clothing layered the floor of the cave with cushions which she'd stolen from campsite scattered across the floor on top with more clothes and other soft materials thrown on top and used to create a soft laying area. She carefully placed the weird green plush she'd grown fond of in her sleeping spot before lying down to stare at in thought.

Slowly she pulled it into herself and tears began to roll down her cheeks as she curled up on herself squeezing the soft plush close to her body as her breathing became difficult. It was so small. She needed to keep it safe…

[angstfactory]

"That's the point," Vicente stepped in closer briefly as he hissed these words so hard, the damn vein in his throat seemed to pulsate from it. This thing truly had no idea how much he was having to hold himself back. If they weren't in broad daylight-- if he didn't have a fucking cover to protect here in Raven's Peak... His eyes widened then narrowed dangerously as the fake-Juni caught herself before dare calling him that again. They had no right to call him anything, they had no right to even be here, tainting the memory of a good woman.

A damned infuriating, incredibly stupid idiot basketcase of a woman who had selfishly not considered anyone else in the biggest decision of her very shortened life... But still a good woman.

"Bullshit," he snapped, moving away from the creature like he was too disgusted to stay in vicinity. In truth, if he didn't move away, he might try to remove the face for them. "You're a demon, aren't you?" Vicente assumed, turning back around with that glare permanently affixed to his brow. "You're the reason that sinkhole has opened-- you're why it stinks here," the man suddenly inhaled loudly, as his lip curled, "God, I can smell it on you." That faint sourness. Maybe if he'd been one of those overgrown dogs or bloodsuckers with a better nose, that smell would have assaulted his senses. Being human, though, and a trained one to boot, it wasn't as obvious. But it was certainly a far cry to the spices and vanilla with a hint of flour burned into the hunter's core memories. "Why have you come?" he demanded. "What are you about to do?" Vicente could feel it in his bones, that something was going on.

~~*~~

"That wouldn't kill me, it would just send me back for more torture," she tried for light hearted but her eyes dropped back to the ground almost immediately. She didn't dare look up even though he had released her and quieted for the moment. Her feet should be moving and carrying her away from this danger but she just couldn't move. It had always been about him in the end anyway.

What had happened to change him so much?

You died, she thought darkly. This was all her fault. It wasn't like the demon had given her much time to write a note to explain. All she had wanted to do was save him from an eternity of torture. No matter what the demon had said, she just knew that he didn't deserve that punishment. He was a good man. Of course, that was while she was human. This side of him was something she'd never seen before.

"I don't," she sobbed, "I don't get any pleasure out of this. I am sorry, mi-" she cut herself off not wanting him to take it too far just because she pushed him over the edge. She dabbed at her eyes to keep the tears from falling, and to cover what he clearly didn't want to see, "I don't have another face. I'm sorry this one doesn't please you any more."

[untoldsoup]

This is Chapter Three part TWO! Please read chapters one, two and 3 (part one) FIRST!

Note: any derogatory comments about Mario being a little person will get deleted and you will be blocked.

PLEASE READ TAGS

Tags: tw:cartoon violence /tw:(mild) body horror/ tw:blood/ tw: injuries/ tw: minor character in danger/ tw: verbal abuse of a minor character/ tw: manipulation/ tw: major character death/ tw: minor character death/ tw:death threats

So happy I managed to get this update out on schedule. Thank you all for being patient waiting two months between updates, these pages take time! Anyway, this is the end of the flash back, we will be back to the present with the next chapter! And well, things are heating up, as you can see :)

I spent a lot of time on this, so if you like it, let me know! thank you all for reading :)

----------------------

Previous: chapter 3(part 1)

Next: chapter four part one

Start from the beginning Here!

This is a sequel, please read "Change" comic first!

[hey-u-weird]

Yaelokre, boundaries and superfans

I didn’t actually want to reactivate this account, but as I watched the whole Yaelokre thing unfold I just wanted to say my 2 cents

Stating that you don’t want people to make nsfw of your characters is a completely fair thing to say, and it sucks that people aren’t respecting your feelings

but ultimately you can’t control what people do with your own characters and how they will interpret your work, you can’t control thoughts, feelings, triggers and boundaries other than your own

which brings me to the next bit: boundaries. What are they? They’re something for you to set up and control. A very valid boundary is saying things like “I’m extremely uncomfortable with erotic works of my characters, please don’t send it to me”

But that is not what Keath (Yaelokre) has done

Yaelokre has asked their majorly underage fans to go out of their way to send and to report them “inappropriate, offensive material and or misinfo” about their work.

This is incredibly unprofessional and dangerous, as they’re sending minors into adult spaces to report nsfw and to play vigilante and go “pedo hunting”, as if this is a fun thing minors can do as a hobby.

Sure, the artist most likely didn’t intend this to happen, and they didn’t specifically say minors should report nsfw media, but the post was seen by more than 90.000 people, so of course minors will take it as a call to action to “hunt” for it, bringing themselves in danger.

What’s worse, not only is Yaelokre abusing copyright laws (even if they registered their characters for copyright, other people can still create fan works of their characters under “fair use”), they have been completely silent about their fans’ behavior, essentially greenlighting harassment, violent and graphic threats being sent to anyone who is or might be upsetting Kaeth

TW // disturbing threats , mention of violence and genitalia mutilation

it’s really interesting, Yaelokre wants control over the fandom and people who make art, yet it is superfans who accuse people who made those (currently 6) erotic artworks and those who defend the right to make such art as unable to control themselves.

this begs the question, why isn’t the creator saying anything? Because they’re currently blocking everyone who even mentions those threats. This confirms Yaelokre is aware of what is happening, but they will not control their violent fan base because they’re helping them take control of their boundaries like “vigilantes”

And while these toxic superfans have only gone after the artworks of erotic nature which exist in the fandom, since the artist has stated that “misinfo and offensive material” also upsets them, it will only be a matter of time before even genuine, sfw only fans are going to feel the wrath of them eventually

Because as long as something exist that could make someone uncomfortable, it’s bad, which also raises the question why art is made at all then since any art can make someone uncomfortable

I would also like to mention that this is an incredibly toxic way of handling your own work. Original characters might be your own, but they are merely an extension of yourself and not you, nor your “children”. Yaelokre has implied that this mistreatment of their OCs is akin to actual child abuse. This will absolutely lead to people sending “offensive” art to child protection organizations too, hindering their job

And I completely understand how upsetting it is to see material you don’t like, many big and small artists have voiced their feelings about it, but this attempt to coercively control people who make art the or an artist doesn’t like will only lead to them crashing and burning out.

It is far easier to avoid nsfw, fanart/fanfics and pretend it doesn’t exist because you really can’t fight against it, once you make art for others, once your work is “famous” enough that it accumulates millions of subscribers and fans all over the world and go on tours, then it’s no longer your own little project

And if you can’t handle the responsibility of being tactful with your fandom (stop treating total strangers in the fandom like they’re your friends, they are NOT) and attempt to control them because your feelings were hurt, then maybe you should step back from social media, let someone else take care of it and focus on creating what you like away from all the triggering things that can upset you

and really though, was it really necessary to go nuclear over 6 pieces of erotic artwork?

needless to say however, please leave the artist alone. We can’t force them to see how damaging this behavior is to themselves and to the existence of (their) fandom as a whole, they’ll have to come to this realization themselves.

once you, as creator, attempt to sue someone for an idea, headcanons, theories or art you don’t like, then there will be no fandom left

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was taking an exam at school, except Chica from FNAF was there and if I made one wrong move she’d fucking kill me.

[punk-in-docs]

A song of brides and hounds: part III

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 4.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter - mainly violence and some gore, also Caracalla being a nasty little bitch -- enjoy!

The servant girls’ hands are kind.

They undress you softly, and handle you with such reverence. Strip from you the ruined stola and tend your wounds.

They wash your feet, ply your cuts with a herbal paste of yarrow and uva ursi, wrap you in bandages. They rub new sweet smelling oil onto your unwounded skin.

Pick off your old jewellery and finery to be discarded. Slip you out your shoes. Lay you bare. Stood before them in naught but your skin as they tend you.

One is wetting, oiling and combing your netted hair to silky serenity again. Another is cleaning the wound on your elbow. All traces of dirt - and your previous life along with it - slowly removed.

Stood you in a shallow golden tub of warm water that laps at your ankles. Milky with oils and soaps. They put rose petals in the water. You watch them swim and dip.

You beg for one of the girls to keep the fibulae broaches that held your now damned dress to your shoulders. Your very last essence of home. Venus was enshrined in those very broaches. They gave you hope. Carrying a small kind piece of goddess with you. Laying your devotion to the majesty of the ocean on your simple shoulders.

They guided you to rooms draped in blue and gold. Stars moulded on the ceiling with the ornate marble that drips from every wall and corner. Giving the false illusion of a night sky. The flat ceiling between them clouded with bursts and puffs of dark blue that indicated churning night clouds. Boundless skies. Endless seas.

It felt like showing all the maps of the world to a caged bird.

Soft feminine blues befit these chambers. Statues and devotion to goddesses crown the walls and doorways. Urns of large stemmed white flowers. One wall holds a table lined with a huge offering of fruits, dried and fresh. Some bread and cured meats and oiled small fish. And an amphora of wine and goblet for after your bathing.

The air in here is scented all floral herb and clean. Too clean. No hint of sea salt or dried weed that tumbles on the shore to bake in the sun. It’s unfamiliar.

The huge slab of the cushioned bed is draped with silks and gauzy canopy curtains the colour of dove feathers. You don’t want to look at it. You dread thinking what will happen in it tonight.

A large maw of balcony gapes at another side of the room. This shows you the wall of rain outside. The violent tumble of thunder that must be shaking the very hills and peoples of Rome.

You feel as if the sea is raging because you’ve been stolen from it. Now it seeks vengeance on the land. Lashing and storming mercilessly until you’re found. Back where you belong.

Unlikely. It will have to rage on.

You stand, undressed, unseeing. Uncaring for the wealth of the room you’ve been pulled into.

The maid behind you, Oriana, a sweet and silent blonde, is scooping your hair back from your neck to comb and ply it with vanilla and orchid oil. Dark sweet musk.

Geta had specifically requested it.

Your head servant is a maid called Aeliana.

She has an accent you can’t place. It’s pretty, her tone husky. She had wonderful raven hair spilling silky and free over her shoulders, eyes dark as cassia bark, almond shaped. Long lashes. The epitome of tranquil beauty.

The colour of her dress is different to the rest of them. Indicating her higher status. Rusty red and it readily compliments the natural darkness of her skin. She wore golden bangles threaded on each wrist, and her touch is cloud soft.

She has a scar that intersects down from the middle of her forehead, across her left eye and cheek and ends there. Skin twisted and healed shiny. An old wound. It makes her striking to look at.

Worse still; She catches you staring.

Lowers her eyes as she tended you. Layering the sticky wet herbal treatment to your wounded elbow.

“Does my appearance displease you, my lady?” She lapses into silence for a moment or two.

“If you’d prefer I could send for another handmaiden to come tend you-“ She asks. Not harshly. There’s a hint of shame to her tone.

You look to her. Fearful of offence.

“I am not displeased. Forgive me. To stare so openly is rude.” You mutter. Eyes falling to your feet again. You watch rose petals sway on the water. You swallow thickly.

If she’s amused at your asking her, a servant, for forgiveness, she doesn’t show it. She calmly counters;

“You are Empress Salacia of Rome. You are allowed to stare at whomever you wish.” She tells you plainly.

Your eyes water. You bite inside your lower lip before you respond.

Not yet I’m not. And I don’t want to be.

“How came you by the scar?” You ask. Knowing full well you won’t like the answer. She gently washed your shoulder with a cloth.

“The Emperor.” She tells frankly.

At your doe eyed expression of horror she elucidates.

“Not Emperor Geta. His brother, Caracalla. Emperor Geta’s temper may be foul and quick to boil. But, Caracalla he is… far crueler.” She explains.

Your mouth purses into a thin line.

Oriana has finished oiling your hair. Now she was styling it into waves. Decorated with ornaments of netted gold. Geta requested it down as opposed to the normal bridal style. Emperors have what they want.

“What was the reason…” You sought. Fearing the answer.

“I was too slow in bringing his wine one night.” She offers. Plucking a vial of oil from the side table and coming back to rub it into your bare arms.

You squeeze your eyes closed. Ignore the tickle of tears that threaten your scrunched eyelids.

This is the savage world you must inhabit now. Try to navigate with sharper hungrier teeth and deadlier instinct. You don’t feel ready. You must become lionhearted and fierce. Carry knives. Be ruthless.

You hear your mothers reverent voice in your head. Sweet sea child. You were not made that way.

“I am sorry for your pain. Aeliana. But I am grateful for your warning.” You decide.

She nods. “I thank the goddess’ for you. Empress.” She smiles at you.

Before going to the side to fetch your tunica recta, and the belt you’d wear on your waist in a knot of hercules. Which tradition dictated only Geta was allowed to undo.

Your husband.

You wince. Aueliana notices.

“Your majesty?” She seeks. Sensing your unease.

“I am nervous.” You tell her. You confide your worry in this woman with kind eyes and soft hands.

“It is expected of a bride to be nervous.” She awards you.

“I’m not a normal bride.” You confirm fearfully. She can see them shaking in your gaze. Threatening to breach your lash line.

She nods in understanding. You’re sure they all knew. The reason that placed you here. Spread like wildfire on dry plains through the servant halls.

“I know little of managing a husband. Of… starting a family.”

“If I may, your majesty. Your family is a noble one, yes?” She asks.

You nod. You lived in one of the richest houses in Corsica. You were never lacking in money or ribbons and new jewels. But at best you were a senators daughter. Not the ideal stock for an Emperors wife. Not the type to be governing one great nation.

“My grandmother is a well known seer in these parts. A healer. Purveyor of white magic. Many a time she has seen things that have yet to come to pass…” She explains as she wraps the belt around your waist. Speaking as she does.

“She foretold your arrival. Said the future of Rome would be written by rain and storm, when blood spills on the ancient serpent stone.”

Serpent. Synonymous with the Traitor. Two faced and shedding skin. Blood spilling, the death of your Brother. Rain on the rocks- this storm hammering down. You can’t believe it.

“What if Rome is your destiny?” She explains. Her voice kind and brave as the candles flicker and the storm rages on.

“Then I pray the goddess’ convey me the strength to survive it.”

“I will pray too.” She takes your hand. It feels like kinship.

They stepped you out of the tub and began to pat you dry with cloths and then dress you.

With each pass of their hands wiping the water from your skin, it removed you further and further from yourself.

Aeliana rubs a sweet balm like texture onto your pebbled nipples before she robes you. Said it was to increase your fertility. She also lines your eyes with burnt kohl.

They pulled your dress on around you. Let it fall into beautiful waves. You stood sedately and let them manoeuvre you.

Your skin positively draped with as much fragrant oil as it could take. Anointed with your new life as it drips off you in unbearable sweetness. Decorations not of your choosing put into your hair, on your ears, around your neck, on your arms. Strangled by someone else’s finery.

Slid fine golden sandals onto your feet. Aeliana brought a flame red veil and pinned it in place over your head. It floated down to your shoulders. Securing a crown of myrtle flowers over it.

It may have been gauzy fabric; rich and fine. But it felt like iron to you. Iron veil and a crown of thorns.

When they finish readying you, they bow and leave you alone to eat the fresh bread and fruits. Drink the sweet wine. Night closes in around you.

You didn’t ever picture the night before your wedding being like this. Alone and noiseless save for rain. You pictured the noise and gaiety of your sisters, dancing in their fine dresses. How they’d carry golden stalks of wheat to signify your prosperous marriage - how it would bear fruit. Be blessed by gods and fortune.

Your mother would bind your hands to the man you’d marry. To the man you’d love.

And you are here. Miserable in cold indifference. Clothed in perfumed oil and silence. With only your dour thoughts for company.

You pick at your offering of food. Feeling the milky eyes of those female deity marble statues watching you carefully. Judging. Maybe even disappointed.

When the doors next shudder open as the guards outside push them open, a divine older woman comes striding slowly, surely, into the room. Confidence woven into her steps like the very fine lavender purple cloth folded around her shoulders. A beautiful sage green palla. Her hair is dark and braided masterfully on her head. Shot through with bolts of silver.

You recognise her from coins. From statues. The Dowager Empress of Rome. Julia Domna.

She looks wise as Minerva. Goddess of education indeed. All of Rome had heard tale of not only her beauty, but her mind. Sharp as an arrowhead. A gentle mediator between her rabid sons.

Out of sheer politesse and nerves, you bolt out your seat and bow your head to her. Words shrivel on your tongue. Royalty is stood before you. Here you are plucked from the dungeons. You feel unworthy.

“Rise, my child.” She bids you. Holding out a hand laid with jewels on nearly every finger. Standing before you. Close enough to discern some of your beauty through the veil.

She examines you. Not unkindly. The way you’d expect a mother to examine the vessel that will carry her sons legacy. She’s discerning.

“Let me see my sons choice then…” she bids. Hands crossed in front of her, diplomatically, as she lets her deep set, serious eyes become acquainted with all of you.

Choice? Or chattel?

She walks around you. Eyes your hair. Your build. Your hips. The way you’ve been presented like a prized sacrificial swine before the crowds on Saturnalia.

And she doesn’t appear to find you lacking

“Goodness. You really are beautiful.” She says. It sounds mournful. Introspective. As if she didn’t intend on you hearing it.

“He’s made a fine choice.” She lauded

“Corsica, I hear you hail from?”

“Yes, Dowager.”

“I want to know one thing.” She says. Voice hard as newly forged steel. A shiver runs your spine. So she could be terrifying if she wishes.

“Are you a traitor against Rome?” She demands. “There are spies who would conspire to align themselves with this great house, under false guises, to murder my sons.” She speaks, crossly. Eyes aflame.

She has bite after all. Lions teeth and knows full well how to use them.

“I am no spy. I am not a murderer I have no guise. Like you. I only want to protect those whom I love.” You answer calmly. Placid easy waves. Gently now.

She smiles. Though something curious still lurks in her eyes.

“Then we are on the same page.” She awards slyly. You feel as if you’ve passed a test.

Her smile crooks on one side. Relieved.

She turns to the doors. The great sway of her earrings are big as chandeliers as she moves. Stunning gold. Bands of gold also cross her well formed upper arms. Every inch a woman of gentility and riches. She is perfumed with lavender. Oil made from dried plants fetched all the way from purple fields in Aquitania.

“My son grows impatient to see his bride. Come. Salacia. It is time.” She offers her arm to you.

Apparently your destiny lays in wait.

~

The wedding was a short and simple affair. The Dowager Empress led you to the grand rooms where they were to be held.

Grand, just like the rest of this humongous sprawling palace.

When you see Geta, he is clad in so much gold and armour. A blinding white cloak draped off his form. Armour golden. Carved with gods and victorious hero’s of battle. Golden laurel crown adorns his head. His smile at the sight of you makes you blush with attention.

You are suddenly grateful for the veil. It manages to hide you from every stranger in this room. You can make out Caracalla. Some other senators. Other guests you’ve no idea who.

The celebrant, a rather portly priest, ordered the evil spirits away. Asked for the fire spirits to bless you. He invoked Janus to watch over you from single people to a joined couple. New beginnings.

When it is time, he takes your hand and carefully threads an engagement ring on your finger. It is weighty, pure gold. An imitation of two dog heads joined together. A round sapphire cradled between their mouths. As if they’re fighting for it.

Remus and Romulus. It reminds you of him already.

You dare to meet his eyes as he does it. He looks ravenous. Umbra catching you where you stand. Swallows you whole. You don’t think you can get used to it yet.

“Wherever you go, there also go I, as your wife.” You speak.

The dowager Empress binds your hands together with blood red linen as the rest of the vows are read. The way his fingers turn and grip the inside of your forearm - firm pressing, hot like a brand - it makes you shiver.

Then comes the time for the marriage to be sealed with a kiss. Hands freed.

Your stomach is squirming unpleasantly as your stranger of a groom steps forwards to lift your veil. When he lifts the red gauze from your vision, you keep your eyes lowered until the last moment.

You feel the urging of his eyes. You could hear the fierce nature of his words as if he’d spoken.

Look at me. Salacia.

He looks entirely too boastful. His perfect little nymph. Caught and landed at last.

Hepulled you in by your waist. Locked his hand around your back. Gave you a kiss that was certainly gentler than before. Softness of his lips was maddening when the rest of him was all armour and metal. But you still felt the edge of his teeth on your lower lip. Bursting new pain from where it had split.

It was official. You had been dragged out a golden net cast in the sea. And now property of the Emperor of Rome.

You had no time to let your thoughts wander. There’s been quite the celebration planned for after. He walks beside you as congratulations ripple around you from nobles, senators, generals and high officials of the courts.

You ignore the way Caracalla sneers a particularly vile look your way when you pass him. Plotting.

You are lead to an opulent triclinium. Open to one huge side, guarded by pillars, which overlooked a garden where fountains trickled and plants bloom even in the storm that’s still brewing. Spitting rain on the landscape.

There are torches at the sides of the rooms, huge bowls boasting orange flames that lick at the walls, and freshly plucked flowers, still green branches and fronds sit in urns to the side. Filling the room with petals and heady nectar scent.

There’s a huge swarm of lectus’ in the centre of the room. Bronze laid with cushions. All pointing towards a huge table were bread and wine goblets awaited. You’re not used to how the room echoes. Unused to the sheer amount of people and formality that fills it.

The wine is poured freely by silent servants who sweep in and out. Some of them carrying plates as huge as carriage wheels. A whole roasted boar with grapes spilling out its mouth is brought in. Trays upon trays of cooked moray eels, cod and oiled anchovies. A whole platter of stewed nightingale birds, arranged around stalks of herbs and plums.

There’s fruit and bread the like of which you’ve not seen before. White bowls filled with cut purple figs and waxy oranges. Apples and yellow golden pears on tiered stands. Grapes and dried apricots heaped in dishes. It’s dazzling. So much wealth thrust before you.

You have a cup of sweet honey wine and take some of the unleavened bread. Watching as others around you gorge and toast with their goblets. Drinking strong wine and telling jokes and bawdy stories.

You feel disjointed from it all. You feel the Emperors eyes pass over you. The dowagers too. You are a source of mystery and intrigue.

Plucked from misfortune and placed here at the feet of gods.

You do feel when your new husband slides some pieces of fruit, or fresh breads onto your plate. A small bunch of sweet red grapes. His head may be cocked to conversation in this room. But his attention remains somewhat on you.

“Eat. Wife. I do not wish to force you.” He commands you. Prodding food and more wine in your direction.

Nursing his own cup and barking at the servants when he wanted more. You know his tongue must be stained with the taste by now. Sour purple. You wonder if you’ll taste it later in another of his animalistic kisses.

It feels like there is a boulder in your stomach. You swallow. You sip. You try to breathe. It all feels too restricted.

“Refill my wife’s cup.” Geta demands of the nearest servant. You flinch at his cutting commands.

You meet the servants eyes for a second and flicker them a smile. They look to the ground as they fill your cup. Their poor hands shake. You thank them. They don’t respond.

You’ve a feeling his plying you with wine has more than one ulterior motive. To make you loosen. Make you pliant. Make you slip down easier in his crushing grip.

“I have no appetite.” You admit weakly.

You can’t stomach the way the fat on the meat before you glistens. These poor stewed birds with clipped wings. The gutted boar. Glistening fat and dead meat. Same as the way of those poor flayed men in the coliseum.

Butchered animals. One and the same. The way blood sprayed out on the biscuit brown dirt under the sun. The way viscera glistened bright when spilled free from once living flesh. How these animals looked served on a platter. There’s no difference.

You take some grapes. Pick them from the vine. Bite into some apricots. The fruit rots on your palate. Fine sugary flesh and it bursts on your tongue like ripe putrefaction. You place it gently back on your plate.

“Do they not have fruit in Corsica?” He asks. It’s vaguely mocking.

“We had lemon trees in the gardens. An olive tree in the courtyard. Over 200 years old.” You state quietly. Not taking your eyes off the plate in front of you. You picked and prodded at it.

“You have more now. You are Empress. You have anything you want.” He impressed on you.

“I miss the ocean. The sun on the shoreline. My sisters.” You mutter.

“Don’t risk sounding ungrateful.” He threatens.

Geta followed the path of your reluctant hand with his eyes. He then scans across all of his guests. People of the senate. Rich merchants. Fellow royalty.

They come to snipe and drink wine and watch this new wedded spectacle.

“They are all dull.” Geta decided.

You wonder if the only source of amusement he could delight at was seeing people being beaten to black and blue paste in the coliseum. To have to see the spray of blood to feel something.

“They are intrigued. Their Emperor has placed a traitor in his marriage bed.” You comment.

Geta turned to you. “That sounds like treason to my ears.” A warning.

“Perhaps.” You answered. Boldly.

“But is it inaccurate? It is what they are all thinking.” You add. “You’ve wedded yourself to someone disloyal. Someone who is not their kind. They are curious.”

Geta scans his eyes over everyone again. Their laughter. The flow of wine. The way they stab and cut into food and fruit like they’re half starved. None of them quite meet your eyes.

Perhaps they don’t wish too.

His hand finds the meat of your thigh. Flesh firm and warm.

“They will believe what I tell them too. Wife. You only need worry about your loyal duty to me. Nothing else.” He makes clear.

You go back to pushing bits of fruit around your plate. Taking no more sustenance.

“No doubt you are unused to such finery.” Caracalla pipes up. Seeing you toy with your food. “I wonder what they eat in Corsica. Peasants sea food?”

You meet Caracalla’s eyes across the tables and mountains of rich food.

Getas eyes were dark. Fired by lust for you. That’s what you saw in them when he looked at you.

The same could not be said for Caracalla.

You saw nothing. Just darkness and his love of cruelty. Geta unnerved you. But it was Caracalla who scared you most. It was like gazing into a tomb. A bare skull eye socket. You’re certain nothing but darkness refracted back. Splintered twisted darkness. The purest distilled form of malice.

“Perhaps you are jealous, brother. The fact that I will have heirs meant for the future of the empire. And you will… not.” He snaps. Petulant.

“If she makes it that far.” Caracalla sneers. Daggering a smile right at you. A sneer that make you feel cold. He’s twirling a dagger in his other hand. Eyeing you with sick lustful interest.

He wants your goodness too. He wants it so he can spoil you for himself and ruin Getas legitimacy. By whatever means necessary. Geta has cruelly inserted you into this feud.

“And who’s to say the heir will be yours… who knows where her eyes will stray.” He jabs. Eyes widening as he leers.

Geta stabs into his food. Glaring at his smaller twin all the while. Eyes dark as shadow cloaked black jewels.

When some servants near you move from pouring wine, the sight of the persons impeded by them, slowed your world to a halt, ringing gongs in your ears when you caught sight of someone you recognized.

Macrinus.

The food in your mouth turns to ash which you can hardly stomach swallowing. Your gaze locked on the man as he lays content at your wedding feast. Drinking wine and roaring laughter with Caracalla. Garbed in robes of rich Aquarian blue trimmed with gold pattern.

Exactly the gracious easy way he had been when he dined with you and your father in his home.

His smile remains as he locks eyes with you. And raises his glass in a toast in your direction. You hear him drink to your new name with a blazing smirk aimed your way. “Empress.”

You mumble a pithy excuse. You don’t know if anyone hears you or if they’ll even look up from their plates when you get up and rush to leave.

Caracalla snorts as you race from the room on the verge of tears.

“She’s a flighty one. Your Empress. So full of tears.” Caracalla comments loudly. Cruelly. Turning his head to meet the acid stare of his brother - and the Dowager Empress as she lowers her goblet from her lips. Eyes cool as metal.

“Maybe if you shoved your cock into your broodmare, brother, as you doubtless plan to do this night. Maybe that would settle her down? Or maybe a good beating from the guards will see her right, make her see her place… maybe let a few of the guards bend her over a lectus and see to her first? Loosen her up a little for your uses.”

“Caracalla. Enough.” The dowager snaps. Lightning power in her voice. Tone fashioned from a fury storms could envy. Her dark eyes glow with it.

She turns to Geta and lays a gentle pacifying hand to his arm. “See to your bride, dear. She looked unwell.”

Geta sighs a snarl. Glaring at his brother as he does as mother suggested.

She watches him leave. Turns to her other son with barely concealed ire.

Caracalla snorts into his wine with the other guests. Making sneering, high handed remarks.

“Such marital bliss.” He mocks to the guests. Twirling his favourite silver dagger in his other hand. Laughing as he played with the dead meats on his plate with a sneer. His tooth winked golden in the light.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[serickswrites]

Found You

Warnings: pursuit, threat of violence

Hero hid behind the stacks and stacks of books. This room had clearly been abandoned. Perhaps Villain wouldn’t look for them there. They needed to catch their breath. Then, then they could escape from this place. 

Just as Hero felt their heart rate finally begin to slow, they heard a sound that had their blood freezing in their veins. “Oh, Hero,” Villain called as they entered the room. “When are you going to learn that there is no where you can hide that I won’t find you?”

Hero held their breath hoping beyond hope that Villain would pass over this room and they could escape. They tried to not move. Tried to slow their heart rate. Tried everything to remain unnoticed. But it was all for naught. 

“Found you!” Villain said with delight as they rounded the corner and locked eyes with Hero. “You’re mine now!”

[rey-townsend]

Oh, he was a real mess. It had been some time since Neylani had come across someone so lost and scared-- mostly of himself, actually. Which, actually, was a good thing. It spoke of the type of person he must be, if he was this upset and torn over even the possibility of harming another soul. The woman raised a hand in an effort to command his attention and focus. "You should not be speaking to me in that manner," she chastised. "Do you hear yourself? Every other word is F-this and F-that-- you learned vocabulary for a reason, sir, I suggest you revisit yours." Of course she would have to comment on his jarring use of sentence enhancers, because it made him more difficult to understand. He was too riled, spewing expletives a mile a minute almost.

"Now you listen," Neylani came in closer to him, her tone and features just as serious as before, "you need to take a moment and collect yourself, take a deep breath, because I can't just let you walk away until you do." Not in the state he was in right now. Neylani couldn't risk the possibility of him stumbling across a wayward townie that just happened to look at him wrong or something. Wolves, especially the newborn, could be wholly unpredictable at times. "Come," she held out her hand, "take a walk with me for a few minutes. Tell me your name."

Avery was on edge, he could feel it, and he knew coming out there was probably not the best of ideas... but well, lately he had been full of those, really bad ideas. Besides he did thought things were getting a little better. He was just trying to enjoy his drink when it happen, that annoying drunk trying to get a reaction out of him, and he tried, he really tried ti ignore it, but as soon as his glass was knocked over, so was Avery's last nerve "Hey, you fucking asshole! what the hell is your damn problem!" He gets up, because now all sense of reason has gone out the window, but before he can do anything he feels himself being pretty much dragged out by his shirt, "What he fuck, lady!?" Avery huff, though part of him is glad she's there to stop whatever was about to happened. "I'm gonna get banned? he started it!" Oh great, yes, being a damn child is was gonna help his case for sure! "You nearly ripped my damn shirt, Goddamn it!" he huffs as she finnaly lets go, Avery fixes himself as he looks over the woman, "What's my problem? what's his fucking problem?! I was minding my own fucking business he come up to me!" he feels it, the rage, even if she defused some of it when he pulled him like that, its still there, which is very evident by the way his eyes glow as he's stating at her, "Shit! Shit! just--I--" he breaths out as soon as he realizes how close he come to lose it, to harm someone, trying to calm myself the best he can, "fuck, sorry I--" Avery runs a hand trough his hair, "I'm--I shouldn't be here, around people. I thought I could, that--that it was better, but it's not--I--I--was gonna rip his fucking head off, fuck!"

"I just need to go, okay? I should had never--I can't be around people, fuck! I should've known better..."

[obae-me]

could we get some hcs of the bros being protective? like i'm imagining a scenario where you're walking with them down the street and someone starts being a creep to you so they step in to scare them off :> also hi i'm glad you're back!!!

Absolutely you can! I love protective headcanons, they bring me life. Also, thank you! I'm glad to be back!

They'll Always Protect You

TW: Threats and a bit of violence. More in just the fist-fighting kind of way but more violence is implied. Demons gonna demon. As always, read safely!

______________________________

Finally. School exams were over, there was no busy holiday approaching, no big event to be planned. At last, you felt as if you could stand back and take a deep breath. At least for a day or two. So, taking the opportunity while it was presented to you, you asked one of the brothers to hang out for the day. Nothing super special, just some time to spend away from the others, away from the House and RAD. No magical shenanigans, no curses, poltergeists, potion mishaps, just you and him.

Luckily, it turned out exactly like you wanted it to...at the start anyway. After having lunch together, you two were simply walking down the Devildom streets, having casual conversations about upcoming plans, recent moods, that one weird server at lunch, just whatever the two of you could come up with, enjoying each other’s company. Then a phone call interrupted you both. It was his phone.

Not a call he could skip apparently. After all, they all are very busy demons. Being Demon Lords came with many responsibilities. You allowed him to take it as long as he wouldn't take too long. This was supposed to be your day with him after all. So, picking up the call, your choice of brother stepped into a nearby alley to have whatever bit of privacy he could have.

Not moving too far away, you simply took a few steps down the sidewalk to look into a storefront window display. You didn't have long before some random demon decided to lean against the glass, a little too far into your personal space. "What'cha looking at?" They asked, clearly just getting you to talk, not interested in your answer in the slightest. The way they hovered rubbed you the wrong way, and whether or not they did it intentionally, they got in between you and the alley where the bother you brought with you was.

"Can I help you with something?" You finally asked, not intending to actually assist them, just wanting them to scram.

"Whoa, no need to sound so accusatory!" They got a little closer, eyeing you strangely. "Just having friendly conversation." Their hand raised and settled on your shoulder, their grasp moving you closer to them. 

Lucifer

All at once, the street gets coated in shadow, all the lights flickering before dying completely. There’s this heavy looming presence that takes the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity. The demon who had the gall to touch you seemed to know their fate without needing to turn around. 

Lucifer is furious. Every part of his body is stiff with that cold and silent burning rage. He doesn’t have to say anything, only staring down at the demon, his eyes glowing a fiery red with his chin slightly raised. 

The other demon scrambles, losing their footing and crawling over the Devildom ground as they flee with their lives while they still have the fortune of keeping it. 

Lucifer waits, making sure that his presence is known, letting everyone know that he is with you. 

The street goes silent in respect, everyone moving along quickly and quietly. They all scatter, avoiding Lucifer’s wrath, leaving you two practically alone.

After a moment, the light returns to the lamps, Lucifer’s wings tucking against his back. He hadn’t been in demon form before he took the phone call. He takes his gloved hands and dusts off your shoulder, implying the demon had left it dirty just by touching it. 

“These mongrels can’t control themselves and let you have any sort of peace, can they?” He scoffed, his shoulders still tense with irritation. 

Still a bit stunned and embarrassed that such a scene was made on your behalf, you looked away from him. “You didn’t have to go that far. Nothing happened.” Not yet anyway, and you knew as much, you just...didn’t know what to say in that moment. Not when someone just emptied an entire street for you with just a glance. 

“Enough happened.” There was the smallest waver to his voice. “Their intention alone warranted my actions, and that was me being merciful. You are far too important to be treated in such a manner.” His voice sped up, almost running on one of his regular lectures, with you being the subject matter. “Exchange student or not, you should be able to walk down a simple street without having to worry about being bothered by some miscreant with an agenda. If I have to enact such a performance like this again, I will do it without hesitation over and over again till I am ensured that every crooked soul down here will know better than to harass you.” He finally took a breath. With a little glance, he raised one of his eyebrows, his voice softening. “You do not agree?” 

“I...don’t know. I don’t disagree, I just...” You’ve never been protected like this before. Not on such an extravagant scale. 

He picked up your implications, toning everything down to a more casual level. “I see.” He took a step to stand right by your side. “Come,” he offered his hand to you should you want to take it. “Let us not allow such trash to ruin such a fine day. Such beings like that aren’t deserving of another thought, you understand?” You nodded and he reacted with a peaceful smile. “Good.” 

Mammon

“Oi.” That single word was said in a deathly serious tone. 

Stupider than anyone gave them credit for, the demon turned around to see who was trying to talk to them. Much to their surprise, they came face to face with Mammon, his head tilted so far to the side, his ear almost touched his shoulder. 

There was a look in the demon’s eyes that flickered between a bit of fear and a little bit of amusement. “Listen, man, I’m just talking to our buddy here.” With a movement to their pockets, the demon pulled out a bag of Grimm. A big one, coins threatening to spill through the bottom of the bag purely from the weight. “How about I give you this and you just let me-” 

The next split second was a complete blur. All you were able to see was a flash of white and gold before the demon that had their hold on you was suddenly gone. 

Mammon stood right by your side now, looking down the sidewalk as the demon who had tried to bribe him was face down on the ground several feet behind you. They had severely underestimated him, either completely unconscious or painfully unable to move. 

Not wanting to stick around, Mammon gently grabbed the fabric of the sleeve around your wrist, leading you away from the scene with swift steps. You silently tried to keep up with him, stunned with the way he was presenting himself. 

After turning onto a different street, he finally turned around to look at you, that frighteningly serious expression still there. “They didn’t do anything to ya, did they?” He was examining you for any wounds or signs of distress. 

“Uh, no...not really.” They probably would’ve if...You took a deep breath. “I’m alright,” you assured him, hoping he would go back to acting like he usually did. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” you blinked, still thrown off by the whole thing. 

“Then don’t lie to me and say you’re alright,” he frowned. 

You gave him an awkward chuckle, feeling a bit of guilt that you did the same thing that other demon had done and underestimated his true feelings. Mammon always understood more than anyone gave him credit for, you know that. Why did you assume this was any different? He knew you weren’t alright. Looking at your feet, you took a deep breath. “I’m a bit shaken up.” 

He was silent for a while, his grasp on your sleeve tightening, acting like it would be a sin if he let you go. Then he raised his head, looking at you intensely. “I’ll always be there for you. I’m your First, got it? And any demon who tries doing something like that again will get more than just a fist to the face. So...just know I’ll keep you safe. Nothing will get in the way of that, you hear me?” 

You managed to smile at him genuinely feeling safe just being around him. 

He beamed back, a little bit of mischief flashing over his face. In his other hand he held out the bag of Grimm the demon had tried to offer. Mammon must’ve taken it during the scuffle. “Anything you want today, anything at all, we’re getting it for ya.” 

Levi

A stuttering voice suddenly called your name, Levi stepping out from the shadows with his arm coming up to cover the bottom of his face. His eyes couldn’t stop fluttering between the two of you. “W-what’s going on?” 

“Just catching up with my friend!” The demon beside you proclaimed. They tugged you closer, putting their arm around the back of you. The movement sent goosebumps over your arms. 

“I’m not-” You tried to explain, but the demon gave you a sudden squeeze. Their way of telling you to shut it. You shot Levi a look, pleading to help you out of the situation. 

“Friend?” Levi’s eyes went dark. “You know nothing about them. You don’t get to call them your friend.” His tail unfurled behind him as his demon form came into full view. “That’s something I’ll never understand about normies like you. You think you can just call anyone you meet at random a friend. Do you know the time I’ve taken to get to know them? The effort it takes to feel comfortable with someone?” All the stuttering and nervousness that usually excluded itself in him was fully gone. 

The demon next to you looked a little confused, but their grasp on you was loosening as they considered whether or not messing with you was worth it.

“If you really are their friend, answer this for me,” Levi continued, relying on his trivia knowledge, only, you weren’t used to yourself being the topic at hand. “What is their favorite movie?” 

It was at this moment, the demon knew they were in far too deep. They had just planned to toy with you, maybe take your soul while they were at it, and now they were being quizzed by one of the Seven Sins, one who was clearly very dangerously close to summoning Lotan. Moisture began to cling to the air around you all. However despite this, the demon decided to give a half-hearted answer, perhaps in a last ditch effort to remain unscathed. 

“You’re wrong,” Levi scoffed. With a dramatic snapping of his fingers, a void opened behind him, water bursting forth from it, inches close from washing you away. Before that could happen, Levi’s tail wrapped around your waist and brought you to him, watching as the demon that had failed was consumed by the torrent. Once the water stopped, the demon was nowhere to be seen, droplets of water dripping off of store roofs and making the sidewalk shimmer. 

All at once, Levi’s temporary confidence dropped, his tail unraveling from you quickly. “I-I’m sorry, I just got so caught up in-in everything. I didn’t mean to grab you, I just...” 

“Thank you for saving me...” You took a moment to breathe and let the stress try to flow away. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” 

As everything began to sunk in, Levi shouted. “Ahhhh, a quiz? That was the lamest thing I could’ve done! All my other brothers probably would’ve just beat them up and-and been done with it!” He clutched his head in embarrassment. 

“I can’t believe you even remembered something like that,” you assured him. You thought you had only mentioned that fact once. 

“Oh...of course I did,” he blinked. “I...uh...try to remember all the details of yourself you tell me. I guess...I couldn’t help but try to prove myself since I’m not used to...wanting to protect someone like that before...” Then all the sudden, his stance turned into one of determination. “But don’t worry, I’ll do it again! A hundred times if I have to! Because...that’s what it means to care about someone.” 

Satan

A shudder could be felt through the ground beneath you. The air suddenly filled with a thick tension. 

Satan came out of the alley, walking with calm steps, a smile on his face. “MC? Who’s this?” 

Recognizing who he was, the demon with their hand on you froze, but seemed a bit confused at the friendliness they were being greeted with. “Oh, I’m just one of their friends from class. Just thought I’d chat with them a bit.” 

“Oh, I see.” Satan outstretched a hand, holding it out for a casual handshake. “Nice to meet you. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” He seemed to beam when the demon put their palm against his. They both gave a single shake...but when the other demon went to release their hand, Satan still clung on. The demon tugged their arm...but to no avail. Panic flared in their eyes as Satan’s hold tightened. 

“Say,” Satan started, voice still curiously peaceful. “Do you like riddles? I’ve been rather fond of solving some as of late. Do you want to hear one?” Not allowing the other demon to answer, he continued, the green hue of Satan’s aura flaring up under his feet. “As morning’s free I’m filled with glee, all four limbs attached to me. By nightfall’s end I’m filled with dread. Nothing left besides my head. What am I?” 

The demon trapped by Wrath began to hyperventilate, sweat running down their forehead as fearful tears filled their eyes. They nearly fell to their knees. “I...I...” They stuttered. 

“Correct.” Satan grinned. “I’m glad you’re smart enough to solve that at least.” Then all the sudden he let them go, timing it perfectly with the struggle so the demon fell backwards with their own strength. “You should run off now,” Satan suggested. 

The demon fled with a lightning fast speed, with a strong likelihood of never seeing you face-to-face again. 

The thickness of hostility still clung to the atmosphere. When you looked to Satan, his hands were shaking, struggling to wrestle his intense anger, probably working to keep it together for your behalf. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, swallowing your own anger, trying not to get stuck in that twisted loop of questioning people’s atrocities. Slowly, you stepped closer to him, holding one of his hands in yours. Just the touch seemed to help calm him a bit. 

He took a deep breath, holding his head a bit. “I’m just glad you’re alright. If something else would’ve happened, I might’ve...” 

He could burn the Devildom down for you. 

He straightened his back, gathering his thoughts back together. “Thank you too,” he finally shared. “I don’t feel guilty when I’m angry for you...it feels like my wrath has a purpose...it’s not meaningless...if that makes any sort of sense.” He hardly was ever hesitant about his words, but he struggled with them now, perhaps a bit self-conscious at his sudden vulnerability. “Anyways, I think a calmer activity is what we need. How about we head to the library? And don’t worry, I won’t leave your side again.” 

Asmo

“Oh, well hello there.” Asmo sauntered out of the darkened alley, leaning against the shop wall to look at the demon with their hand on you. There was a flirtatious melody to Asmo’s voice, but his eyes hinted at a deeper feeling. “Who’s your friend here?” 

“I-” You tried to speak but were cut off. 

The demon shrugged their shoulders innocently but kept their claws on your shoulder. “Just getting to know them a bit, no harm in that is there?” 

“Of course not!” Asmo exclaimed, moving away from the wall coming up right to the demon. He suddenly curled a hand around their chin. “In that case, I want to know all about you.” Surprised, the demon took a step back, unsure of what was happening. Asmo moved his hands down to the demon’s shoulders, rubbing them. “Aw, what’s wrong?” He asked, a fake pout to his lips. “I thought you liked this sort of thing; putting hands on strangers.” He got in close, lips close to their ear. “Not so fun when it happens to you, isn’t it?” 

As the demon stuttered, Asmo quickly stomped his heel down onto the demon’s foot. The demon gasped in pain, moving backwards, but before they could escape too far away, there was a brisk slap as Asmo’s palm contacted the side of their cheek. The force of the impact was strong enough to have the demon spin, falling back onto the ground. 

Asmo looked at his fingernails to make sure they were fine before flicking his wrist in a motion to shoo the demon away. “Get your ugly face out of our sights. Oh, but before that...” He pulled out his D.D.D. making sure to snap a picture of the demon in such a pathetic sight. Shamed and bruised, the demon rushed off. Asmo tucked his device away before approaching you promptly. “Are you alright, dear?” 

“N-not really,” you answered honestly. 

That response made Asmo glance down where the demon had fled, eyes filled with malice. But with a sigh, he turned his soft gaze towards you. “Are you good with a hug?” He waited till you nodded before he wrapped his arms around you, swaying you back and forth a little. One of his hands protectively curved around the back of your head. “How dare anyone treat you like that. Not pretty behavior at all!” He pulled back and cupped your face in his hands, making sure you seemed alright with the touch. “With a face as lovely as yours, they should’ve known you were totally out of their league!” Flattery aside, his voice went serious. “If you’re ever in trouble like that, call on me as soon as you can. I don’t want anything bad ever happening to you. Not even a single tear.” He let his hands fall from your touch. He then playfully winked. “It doesn’t matter how far I am, I’ll always make it to you. I can run perfectly in heels you know.” 

“Thank you,” you managed to smile at him, your mood a bit lightened. 

“Oh, don’t thank me for something so simple, dear. Just keep me by your side and in your mind, and know you are loved and protected.” 

Beel

Beel scratched the back of his head as he stuffed his D.D.D back in one of his pockets. He paused at the spot where he remembered leaving you at, looking around for you. As soon as he spotted you, his eyebrows furrowed. He came over casually, head tilted a bit to the side. 

Beel was apparently not the person the demon had expected to see. They were visibly nervous. And for good reason too. However, despite the fact that Beel was considerably larger and stronger, the demon still tried to worm their way out of trouble by lying. “Hey,” they pretended to ask you, resuming the conversation that the two of you never had. “Is this who you were talking abo-” 

“Is this demon giving you trouble?” Beel questioned bluntly, skipping needless assuming and wasteful back and forth. He got to the meat of the matter in a few seconds. 

All you had to do was nod. 

Beel’s eyes narrowed, demon form revealing itself in a flash. Reaching his hand out to the side, Beel yanked out the nearest streetlamp from the ground with a movement so simple he might has well pulled a petal off a flower. He turned with it, his arm reeling back before he realized the demon was completely gone. They had fled the instant the lamp was touched. Beel’s face returned to it’s neutral expression, placing the streetlamp where it should’ve been. Only the light didn’t turn back on...and it was crooked...and there was a suspicious Beel-shaped hand indent in the metal pole. 

“Oh, I broke it.” A little bit of guilt formed on his face. “Lucifer won’t be too happy.” He turned, coming up to you. “You okay?” 

“Uh...” Still a little rattled at the whole thing, you responded honestly. “I’ll be okay in a little bit.” 

Old memories probably came to his mind, ones where he arrived and acted a little too late. “I’m sorry,” he frowned, looking downcast. 

“No, don’t be, it wasn’t your fault at all...Thank you for protecting me. You kept me safe,” you assured him. 

He seemed to brighten at that. “Of course...It’s what I do. You and my brothers, I’ll protect all of you always.” With a gentle gesture, he gave you a little hug, making you feel like you were protected by a warm and comforting shield.  He pulled away after a moment, looking down the street behind you. "Do you want something to eat? That always makes me feel better. I'll carry you there if you want. That way, no one can mess with you again."

Belphie

(This segment contains Mild Spoilers if you haven’t finished the first portion of the game) 

“Say, did you want to go somewhere?” The demon asked, trying to lead you further down the street. Your mind started to race with all the self-defense lessons and spells you had been taught to use in situations like these. 

"No." You stated, taking a step back. "Leave me alone."

"Well..." The demon suddenly didn't look so 'friendly' anymore. "That's pretty rude, don't you think?"

You scowled, eyes flickering to where Belphie was supposed to be. There was no sign of him. “I have someone with me, you should leave now.” 

“Oh?” The demon laughed a little. “Yeah, I saw. Belphegor, right? The one everyone knows hates humans?” The demon squinted, giving you a shove in the opposite direction. “You picked the wrong demon to put your trust in.” Those words settled into your chest with a cold pain. “I bet he’s already run off or found somewhere to take a nap rather than keep an eye on you.” You continued to back up, but the demon just kept following you. You considered trying to run for it. “Just face it,” the demon smirked. “Don’t fight it. After all, there’s no one here to protect you.” 

All the sudden, a chin rested on your shoulder. You flinched, but felt a surge of relief when a familiar yawn rang through the air. How did he get behind you? You hadn’t even noticed him moving around. According to the look on the other demon’s face, apparently they hadn’t noticed him till now either. 

“Can we go home now?” Belphie asked you, acting as if the other demon wasn’t even there in the first place. “I’m tired of being out here.” 

“H-hey!” That whole dramatic speech was suddenly losing it’s merit, the demon floundering a little at the lack of attention. 

“Sure,” you responded, feeling like that was probably a good idea. You suddenly had your fill of public spaces. Being safe at home sounded like a dream. 

Belphie straightened, taking your hand and leading you away, intending not to pay any mind to the demon at all. 

Even more infuriated by being ignored, the demon lunged, attempting to pull you back by the back of your clothing. 

Belphegor turned, an emotionless look on his face as he grabbed the demon’s wrist with a firm hand. “I said we were going home,” he emphasized. 

Eye twitching, plans ruined, the other demon growled. “You were supposed to not care!” 

“...” There was a long pause, and for a moment, you wondered if Belphie had even heard the demon’s words. Then Sloth’s eyes narrowed. “If there’s one thing I hate more than anything, it’s when people try to assume things for me. What I like or don’t like, what’s best for me, what I’m feeling, nobody gets to decide that. And nobody gets to attempt to hurt this human and get away with it.” With a flick of his arm, he threw them back, sending them rolling across the ground. Belphie took up your hand again and continued on his way back towards the House without even looking back. 

You remained silent. 

Typically, Belphie would enjoy the silence with you, but he seemed uncomfortable and finally spoke up. “I know.” When you looked at him questioningly, he elaborated. “I know I’m a hypocrite.” His jaw tightened, his words soft. “I know nothing I say or do will ever make up for it...You can hate me, you can curse me, you can never want to see me again and that’s okay...but that won’t stop me from making sure you’re safe.” His bangs hid his eyes, and his hold on your hand loosened should you want to tug yourself free. “You’ve suffered enough. The very least I can do is make sure it wont happen again. That’s my pact. My promise.” 

[untoldsoup]

This is a sequel!! Please read "Change" first!

Cover art

Chapters One and Two: you are here.

Chapter Three: here

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This took a long time to make and I put my heart and soul into it so let me know what you think!! I'm hoping to have chapter three out by March but its a really big chapter so it will take some time :)

Anyways, this is the start of the comic! I jump right into things so hopefully it isn't to confusing. Also this is pretty much the last time you see Bowser's human form, it's mostly koopa from here on out. This comic will be pretty long so its going to take a long time to finish but I hope everyone will enjoy it! I will have content warnings for the next chapter as things start to get crazy moving forward.