#and if he couldn't come back to human world

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Brothers About How Horribly They Were Treated in Twisted Wonderland

This was requested by @sweetlicorice I hope you like it! It was taking longer than expected, so I only did the brothers, but I will do the dateables in a part 2, don't worry.

TW: Talk of being Overworked and Burnt Out, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons (but not at you), mental breakdowns, missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry), and nightmares

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters (though I don't think they say it here) and MC is gender neutral, but this is mostly in second person, so for the majority of the story you'll be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters include: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

This will be long, so the stories under the cut

This is organized by character, with a bit of context at the beginning. Enjoy!

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

Lucifer:

You were in his office, as you did somewhat often. It was quieter in there than it was in most of the house, and no one would bother you if you were with him. Plus, sometimes he would let you take care of some of his paperwork, just the stuff that wasn't too sensitive or important, but it lightened his load a bit.

"Why do you insist upon helping me?" He asked, not looking up from his paper, as you looked at your own.

"I'm used to doing more work, and if it makes your job easier, then I don't mind." You shrugged.

"More work? Do you mean like a job?" He asked, somewhat curious. Your file had listed a lot, but you had, apparently, been missing for a while when you were brought to the Devildom, so he didn't know what you had been doing before coming there.

"Something like that." You vaguely answered, finishing a paper.

"I am always here if you need to talk." He glanced up at you, as you pulled out your homework instead.

"Thank you."

A comfortable silence fell over the you two. The ambiance of the fireplace, paired with the low volume on the record he was playing, along with the light scratching of his pen, was calming. His office was always dimly lit, enough to see easily, but also darker than the average room.

It was a quiet environment that reminded you of the days when you would sit in the office of Crewel, him taking pity on the amount of work shoved on you and attempting to help at least a little. Or the days when you would study with Ace and Deuce in the Heartslabyul Common Room, Riddle sitting nearby doing his own paperwork, and Grim resting lazily along your shoulders. It was comforting, yet sad, at the same time.

"Back, in the place where I was," you started softly after a few moments of silence, "there was more that was required of me."

"In what way?" He asked, and though you couldn't tell, off in your own world, he had stopped doing his paperwork to focus on what you were saying, fully enraptured in wanting to know your backstory.

"The headmaster, at my last school, his name was Dire Crowley. And he was terrible at his job." You laughed bitterly. "I showed up there one day, against my will, and practically started running the place once he thought I could handle it, or when he was certain I wouldn't complain." You glared at your paper, thinking back on all that was unfairly thrown at you.

"Like what?"

"Paperwork, was the majority." You answered without thinking. "But there were.... others."

"Others?" He prompted after a few moments of a now, much tenser, silence.

"Your demon form is scary." You looked at him, making eye contact. "But it is not as scary as facing seven Overblots within the span of a year."

"Overblots?"

"The manifestation of out of control magic and strong negative emotions that result in the transformation of the magic user, and the creation of a sort of monster. The magic user loses control of their entire being, and it's very taxing on the magic user." Your eyes were glazed over as you seemed to recite the information with no emotion in your voice. "I don't blame them, for Overblotting, and losing control, the world is cruel. I do blame Dire Crowley, however, for making me responsible for dealing with them."

"That sounds dangerous, for someone without magic."

"It was." You agreed, still looking towards him.

Not at him, but through him, as if you weren't registering how much you were saying. This made him all the more concerned, as he got up and walked over to you, sitting beside you.

"I was also responsible for whatever Dire Crowley wanted me to do. Feed the fireplaces over winter break, find out why our sports players are getting injured, stop that one student from taking over the student body, house these people for this inter-school competition, and on, and on." You listed, beginning to spiral. "I practically ran that school. Me! A magicless human who had no idea what they were doing or where they were or how to handle what was happening to me. He stuck me in a shack, filled with mildew, and mold, that was covered in dust, infested with ghosts, and falling apart at the seams with a fire-breathing cat. And he didn't even make me a student at first!" You looked at Lucifer, tears pricking your eyes. "I was a janitor! And when another student got myself, Grim, and another student in trouble, he was going to throw me out! Onto the streets with no understanding of the world, how it functions, or anything at all!"

Lucifer nodded, trying to get you to calm down silently, wanting to hear about your past, even though it was painful.

"And he'd threaten me, Lucifer! He'd threaten my housing, my food budget, and I had no means of income! I couldn't pay for myself in any regard, I was completely dependent on him! I was his little puppet. The puppet of the 'oh so gracious Dire Crowley'." You began to sob as emotions started to overcome you, them all spilling out as you finally let yourself feel safe enough to feel these emotions. "I was so scared! About what would happen to me, and my friends. I didn't know what the next day would bring."

He brought you into his chest, hugging you tightly, and allowing your tears to stain his red vest. He let you sob and weep as you finally allowed yourself to process the emotions you'd been keeping inside this whole time. He kept his breathing even, trying to get you to match it subconsciously, and he gently rocked you, trying to calm you down as best he could.

"I miss Grim!" You cried out, into his chest. "I miss him so much that it hurts. I feel so anxious without him around."

He didn't ask who Grim was, but he knew it was someone important. He'd ask you about it when you were calmer, for now, he'd just let you cry to your hearts content. It had been a long time since someone had come to him, and allowed him to see them crying, but he didn't mind it so much when it was you. He took pride in being someone you felt safe enough to cry around.

No more paperwork got done that night, but he didn't care. You were more important at that point in time, and Diavolo would understand, he assured you of this, when you tried to apologize for taking up his time and crying on him. He brought up that Diavolo would be more mad if he hadn't comforted you, which made you laugh. You were so tired from crying that not long after you calmed down, you drifted off in Lucifer's arms, on the couch in his office.

Mammon: 

You were hanging out in Mammon's room one night, trying to help him study. Mammon was a lot smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for, the main issue you were having was the effort in which he was putting in. Which was zero. He was much more interested in his video game than his homework, despite the fact that Lucifer had threatened to string him up from the ceiling should he not get a satisfactory grade.

It was almost nice, how familiar this felt. The arguing with him about studying gave you a nostalgic feeling, for when you would study with your First Year friend group, and you would try to pry Ace away from his video games. It was never effective, much like now, but the nostalgia made you keep trying to convince him.

Mammon himself didn't seem to notice the effect this was having on you, too focused on his video game. Not that you cared, better for him to remain oblivious that try to pry your secrets out of you.

You sighed, closing the textbooks that you had brought in, accepting the fate of his grade, and making a mental note to find a spot to at least try to hide him from Lucifer. You watched as he played the game for just a few more minutes before you crawled over, sitting beside him as he played, watching the screen.

"Why're ya so good at homework in the Devildom anyway?" He asked, in the blunt way he normally does.

"Diavolo adjusted my curriculum because I don't know much about the Devildom, so I get assignments that are easier." You admitted, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I appreciate it, my last headmaster wasn't nearly so accommodating." You mumbled bitterly, thinking back on that incompetent headmaster.

"Really? How's that?" He asked, only half-paying attention, as he spam-clicked the button on the controller to his video game.

"Eh, don't think too much about it. Crowley was stupid, and though he claims he was gracious, he was really anything but. At least to me."

"What's 'at supposed to mean?" He asked before exclaiming nonsensical, frustrated sounds at his loss in the video game.

"I was basically his Barbatos, but I wasn't paid. Hell," You laughed mirthfully, "what money I was supposed to get was threatened, actually. More than once."

"Really?"

His attention was still diverted, and you noticed this. He was likely only wanting to hear your voice for background noise while he played, but you didn't mind so much. At least now you can say you told someone. Even if he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, Crowley threatened my food and housing budget more than once. And he'd push all his work onto me, even though I really shouldn't have had that much responsibility put on me. After all, I was someone without magic in a magic-teaching school, from another world. I didn't know anything." You shrugged lightly, trying not to move Mammon's arm too much, because your head was still resting on his shoulder. "I can't say I miss that part of it."

"What do ya miss then?" He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

"My friends. I had a group of friends that were pretty tight-knit. Trauma bonded, more like it." You laughed. "And Grim. I miss Grim."

"Grim?"

"My cat."

"Ya sound like Satan."

"Grim was a special cat. He could use magic, and fly, and talk. You remind me of him sometimes." At that he finally paused the game to look at you.

"I, remind ya of... a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." You smiled, laughing lightly. "He was sarcastic, and demanding, and greedy. He called me Henchman, you call me Human." He rolled his eyes. "But underneath your... bravado, is a very nice person, who cares a lot. Grim and I... we only had each other. So it just makes sense that we bonded. I miss him, a lot. He used to sleep in my bed, and he'd always be there with me. I've been having trouble sleeping without him. It just feels like there's something missing." You admitted in a soft and sad tone. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll be yer Grim 'til we can convince Diavolo or Barbatos, or maybe Solomon to get yer cat." He said quietly, rubbing your upper arm. "Ya can sleep in here whenever ya need, ok?" You nodded. "Wanna watch a movie?" You smiled at him, nodding once more, as he turned the TV to one of the bajillion streaming services the family all pay for, because they share, and arguing with you about the best movie to watch.

Leviathan:

Leviathan was out in public with you, having gone to an anime themed event at a cafe in the Devildom. He was so excited, that you just couldn't resist when he asked if you wanted to go with. It was nice to hear him rant and ramble about all the things that he was passionate about.

"There's a cat in the anime that waitress is from! And he's super cool!" Levi started. "He can fly, and talk, and use magic. He's also very stubborn, like a donkey. But he's a favorite in the fandom because of how cute he is."

"I know someone like that." You mumbled without thinking, your mind wandering to your feline friend.

"You do?!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." You smiled. "His name was Grim, and he used to live with me, back in the time before."

"Really? Tell me more!"

"He wasn't super smart, or very hard working. He used to call me Henchman, and demand cans of tuna. But when it came down to it, Grim was the one I could rely on the most. But, that might also be because we literally couldn't leave each other." You told him.

"You couldn't?"

"No. I don't have magic, and he did. I'm human, he was a cat. The headmaster of my last school decided to be 'oh so gracious'," you quoted, making air quotes around his catchphrase, "and make the two of us one singular student, allowing us to attend his magic school."

"That seems... dumb. To say the least."

"It was." You deadpanned, before the both of you laughed. "He was a bad headmaster. Towards the end of my stay there, I was practically headmaster, just because of how much work he pushed onto me because he could. But while I was at that school I made friends. And I had Grim. Even if the situation I was in was less than ideal." You smiled as the waitress delivered the food you ordered, with a bundle of silverware.

"Ah. I bet you'd prefer them to an otaku like me."

"Not true!" You defended, pointing your fork at Leviathan. "I like you plenty fine, Levi. You actually remind me a lot of my friend Idia. But," you laughed awkwardly, "at least you leave the house sometimes, and aren't afraid of confrontation. Or, at least, you're not afraid to confront some people. Like your brothers." You set your fork down, stopping your silent threat at Levi, that wasn't actually very threatening to him.

"He was an otaku too?"

"Yes indeed, and a master gamer to boot."

"Better than me?"

"It's hard to say." You shrugged. "The games you guys play are similar, but different. It's not a fair comparison." He seemed placated by this answer. "Your brothers remind me of a lot of my friends from there." You said vaguely.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. They're my friends, of course I miss them. And it's not like I know if and when I'll be able to see them again." You explained gently. "I don't miss the work though. Diavolo was nice and assigned me a tutor and easier assignments until I get the hang of the normal work here. And no one makes me do any extra work, or threatens my food or housing. Well, Lucifer threatens punishments sometimes, but he would never threaten my food or housing, and I won't get punished as long as I do my best and behave." You rambled, smiling at how nice it was here, compared to it was in Twisted Wonderland. "Plus, I have all of you, and Diavolo, and Barbatos, and the other exchange students. I miss my friends from there, and I really wish that I had Grim here with me. But I am happy here." You beamed.

"Maybe if we ask Lucifer, he may know how to get your cat." Leviathan suggested, smiling lightly.

"I would love that. He acts like Mammon, but he feels like an emotional support cat. And, I bet Satan would seriously love having him here too."

"You know, we're all here. If you want to talk."

"I know." You glanced around. "What anime is that cosplay from?" You asked, gesturing at another waitress, changing the subject.

He glanced, and started beaming, immediately launching into a rant about the anime it's from, and the character themself. It was nice that he didn't question the change in subject. You'd tell Levi and the others all about what happened to you, and about what Twisted Wonderland was like. Eventually. Maybe.

Asmodeus:

Saying Asmo was flirty, was an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. And while he flirted and charmed nearly every being in existence, he did understand consent, and took every no at face value, stopping when asked. Of course, it's a rejection, so at the beginning you had to explain that no, you're not rejecting him as a person, you like him plenty fine as a person, you just don't always want to be flirted with.

He still did it, but when you asked him to stop he'd make a show of whining about it, but stopping nonetheless. It was annoying, but he did take your 'no' seriously, so in the end it was kind of worth it. Asmo was good for conversation, and he knew all the gossip, so he was nice to hang out with.

You had mentioned a handful of times that he reminded you of someone where you were from where you used to live. But all he ever said in response was that there was no one like him. Which is true, as no one else could truly embody Lust like Asmodeus does.

He was doing a skincare night with you, when you brought it up again.

"You know a lot about skincare already, it's quite impressive." He complimented.

"Yeah, had a friend who took it very seriously." You agreed.

"Is this the same friend that I remind you of?"

"Tis." You smiled, gently rubbing the moisturizer onto his face. "He was an interesting man."

"Interesting man? Interesting how?"

"He was insanely hard working, yet it seemed no one saw that." You started, taking a deep breath. "He was an actor, and social media influencer. And he was talented. Extremely talented. He worked hard to get where he was, but he had the means to get there."

"Anything else I should know about this person?"

"Well, he was good at potions. And like, just as good if not better than Satan and Solomon, good. He had the harshest study routine, but it was worth it. Never failed a potions class if he was tutoring me. He didn't have much time to do so, but I was always grateful when he did." You thought back on the memories fondly, smiling, as you stopped rubbing the moisturizer into his skin, and moving onto the next step. "His methods were.... intense, to say the least." Your smile became strained, remembering the VDC. "But, they got the results he wanted, so I guess he didn't see much issue with it."

"Intense in what way?" Asmo asked, noting your tenseness.

"I was appointed manager for a dance team, an interschool competition thing, you know how competitive people can get." You shook your head lightly. "They all came to live in my dorm because it was mostly empty. But, despite me being manager, he decided I needed to follow the same diet as everyone else. My friends said it was a 'we're all in this together' thing, but I thought he was just being unreasonable. I mean, come on, hexing my food? That's just wasteful. And he didn't even pay me back. I didn't get much money for food in general, because I was the magicless student, and there he went, just wasting what I had." You laughed mirthfully, remembering your anger at the situation, and your frustration.

"Well, in his defense, if he was just looking out for you."

"I would have no problems if that were the case, Azzy." You slightly chastised, but it was playful, and held no real bite. "I took your diet in stride, didn't I?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've been fine with it, if that were the case. But he never paid me back for the food that he hexed, or replaced it. I didn't have much, so no one being able to eat those foods, it was wasteful. I mean, it's not like I got much money, if any, from the school for dorm food, like every other dorm."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I was the magicless student. The errand person. The pushover. The unpaid therapist or headmaster. Depends on the day." You sighed. "The headmaster didn't want to have to rewrite the budget to factor in an extra dorm, when it only had two students in it, that really only amounted to one student."

"Wait, I thought you've mentioned before that you had a roommate."

"I lived with a fire-breathing, flying, talking cat named Grim, who could use magic, and several ghosts. I say technically one student, because the ghosts were faculty members, technically, but Grim had magic, and I didn't, but I was human and Grim was a cat. So, when I popped out of the woodwork, with no magic, no identification, no way to go home, and no clue about how this world worked, the headmaster was 'oh so gracious'," you mocked, "and put us both in a run down dorm, enrolled as a single student."

"Run down?"

"I mean Run Down. It was called Ramshackle, by other students, and it certainly lived up to it's name. The heater didn't work, I had to curl up with Grimm under every blanket I could find in that house. It was caked in mold and mildew, and dust, until Crowley cleaned it for the VDC. I injured myself more than once." You pointed to a scar on your forearm, where you'd hurt yourself in an attempt to fix up your dorm. "I am, honestly, very grateful, for the opportunity to stay here, in much better conditions. I do miss my friends, and I miss Grim." You admitted.

"Is that why you named that stuffed animal Grim? I thought you were just taking after Mammon in your greed."

"I miss Grim." You stated simply. "He was always with me. We were inseparable. We fought, we bickered, but at the end of the day, I knew if there was one thing, one being, I could rely on consistently, it was Grim. He was my ride-or-die. I named my stuffed animal after him, because I have a hard time sleeping without him. Even just, relaxing, can be hard. I miss him, and I don't know if he's ok. I genuinely, worry about him. And I miss him so much, that it's hard to fully put into words."

"I'm sorry." He offered, and you just smiled at him.

There was not much more Asmodeus could say. He couldn't provide you the comfort that you craved, as he was not your cat, nor could he get you your cat. So, he extended his sympathies, and access to his bed whenever you would like. For cuddles, or for more, he was always down for whatever.

He only hoped that his efforts to be there, and open for you, helped to heal you a little bit in the long run.

Satan:

Satan was nice to be around. He was curious, and he liked to know things and ask questions, so he did tend to pry into your past. But he was always good for book recommendations, and was always happy to discuss any book you wanted.

You found comfort in his fondness for cats, finding a kindred spirit in that regard. You didn't tell him about Grim, not wanting to get his hopes up about maybe meeting your beloved companion. He did notice your love of cats though, and had gotten you a giant cat plushie, as a gift.

You had named it Grim, and it lived on your bed. It was much quieter, and honestly, a bit boring compared to the real thing, but it was good for cuddling in the night when you couldn't sleep because you missed your furry friend. You were grateful that Satan had brought you just a bit of comfort in those moments, even if he didn't know it.

"I had a cat." You started one day when he started reading off cat facts enthusiastically after you had expressed the slightest bit of interest. "He was a rather interesting thing."

"Really? What was he like?" Satan liked to hear you talk about your past in general, but he was especially excited to hear about your cat.

"His name was Grim. And he was big, like 2 feet tall. He had a very distinct look about him. Grey fur, with a white chest," Satan nodded, listening intently, "bright, big, blue eyes. So round they almost looked scary sometimes. His ears, they had blue fire coming out of them, and his tail was shaped like a pitchfork. And he could use magic! He could breathe fire, and fly, effortlessly. He could talk too. Used to talk my ear off." You smiled fondly, happy to be able to talk about your favorite creature. "He'd call me Henchman, or Hench Human. He was a trouble maker. Mammon reminds me of him that way."

"Oh." Satan almost groaned.

"But much like Mammon, at the end of the day, push comes to shove, you can rely on him. That was one of the few things I knew for certain back then. Grim was the only one I could fully rely on. I had other friends, but Grim and I, we were inseparable. He was my best friend. He used to sleep in my bed with me, every night. I'm so used to it, it's honestly.... kind of hard to sleep without him." You admitted, laughing tiredly. "I miss Grim."

"Were you allowed pets, or familiars, at your last school?"

"No. No, I don't think we were." You answered after a moment of thought. "But Grim was a special case. He and I crashed the entrance ceremony. I wasn't supposed to be there, and got yoinked out of another world, but he was just straight up trespassing because he wanted so badly to go to that school, and become a great mage." You laughed at the memory. "He committed arson, I helped calm him down, and the rest is history. We weren't students, originally. We were janitors. The Headmaster only let us stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I proved that Grim could be helpful."

"I thought you said you were a student?"

"I was. Half. I was half of a student." You smiled, taking a tired, yet fond, sigh. "I didn't have magic. But Grim did. So, Crowley determined that we would each be half of a student. He got us both into so much trouble, but he always helped me get out of it. I could always rely on Grim. Except in schoolwork," you admitted, laughing a little, "I was alone in that portion."

A million questions ran through his head, and you could tell the gears were turning. It was almost amusing, seeing him trying to decide on what topic to pick. Should he keep going about your cat? Pry about your headmaster? Ask about your clearly troubled past at this school?

He was quiet, but it wasn't tense, or awkward, just comfortable silence, as you patiently awaited his next question. You knew Satan would choose his words carefully, so as to not make you uncomfortable, so you had no fears. You really didn't want him to ask about Grim's homework habits though. Satan prioritized intelligence, and knowledge. You wanted him to have a good impression of Grim, since you thought the two would get along, despite Grim being similar to his older brother, Mammon.

It took him a few moments, you, peacefully sipping your favorite hot drink, as you waited patiently, reading your book, before he finally picked a topic.

"Was your headmaster, truly that bad?" He asked softly.

"His favorite trick to get me to do what he wanted, when I didn't want to, was to threaten me. My food budget, my housing budget, or even my security at the school. I had others I could rely on, should this happen. The other Housewardens tended to take pity on me when I would show up, practically begging for food, because Crowley wouldn't allow me to have any. They were good people. But I always made sure Grim had stuff to eat. I never let him suffer. He actually learned to share through this. But, a diet of tuna sandwiches, just isn't that good for your health. It was better than nothing though." You shrugged, not looking up from your book. You looked up, to see him looking at you, sadness painting his eyes. "I'm doing better now, Satan." You smiled.

"I don't want to pry, but I do have more questions." You took a deep breath.

"Can I answer them later?" You asked, to which he nodded.

"Take your time."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you look through your books, to see if there's a spell, or an incantation, or a potion, or a ritual, that will help me get Grim? I'm worried about him, and, as you can see," you gestured to your eyebags, which Asmo had tried to hide using makeup, but it was late, so they were started to peek through, "being without him takes a toll. He's like my emotional support cat, you know? My sassy, lazy, loud, annoying, emotional support cat, that I love. And I miss."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded. "No promises, but I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask." You smiled tiredly.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub had eaten the majority of the fridge again, and it was your turn to make dinner. You sighed, as he looked at you guiltily. It was getting too close to when you absolutely needed to start cooking so you could serve dinner on time, so you couldn't go shopping for more. You just shook your head, and got to work taking everything out of the fridge and pantry, just to see what was left.

"I'm sorry." Beel offered. "I'll help you cook."

"I've done more with less." You said, not registering his offer, and looking over the ingredients that were left, as you had caught him before he could eat everything. "I just need some time."

"I didn't leave you much. I could go to the store, and get some more." He offered.

"Beel," You looked at him, smiling in amusement. "How much of what you get me would you eat on the way home?" He looked down guiltily once more. "I'm not mad," you assured, "really, I'm not. And I appreciate your offer of help. But I've got this." You smiled once more, before turning back to the ingredients, and picking up a few.

With what little you had, you'd started to make a large delicious meal. Beelzebub watched, in what could only be described as awe, as you stretched what you had into enough to feed the brothers, and something that tasted good. He still felt guilty about eating the majority of what you could've used to make dinner, but he was grateful you weren't mad, and he was curious as to how you knew how to make so little go so far.

After you served the brothers, you kept a little for yourself, and Beelzebub noticed. He noticed that you didn't take much, and when he tried to comment on it, you just winked at him, smiling. After dinner, he was designated for clean up, and you went into the kitchen to keep him company, as he had while you were cooking.

"How did you do that? There wasn't much left, but that was a good meal."

"My last school.... I didn't have much." You started vaguely. "My food budget was small, and often taken away, so I would take what little I was able to beg or barter for from the shop keeper, or the other Housewardens, or my friends, and I'd make it stretch. It helped that they often had some leftovers, especially Scarabia, with their feasts every week. And Jamil was a fabulous cook." You complimented, your mouth watering at the thought of his delicious and carefully prepared food. "But I digress. What I'd do is, I'd prepare meals in advance, as many as I could. I had to. Starvation sounded rather unpleasant, to me."

"It was that bad?"

"Not if I planned correctly." You smiled.

Beelzebub related to the feeling of hunger, and starvation. He was often brushed aside as always hungry because he's the Avatar of Gluttony. But the pain was always there, and it was hard to describe the pain aside from, hungry. You were always patient with him, even if he got grumpy because of his hunger, and now he was starting to see why.

If you understood the feeling of being hungry all the time, and starving to a painful point, it makes sense that you'd not get mad at him. It makes sense to him, that you'd be patient with him. He had always appreciated your patience and kindness, but he had never questioned it. Now he was starting to think he should've.

"Was it just you?"

"No. I had a cat with me. His name was Grim, and he was a lot like Mammon." You described cheerfully. "He mostly ate cans of tuna, which I could get for cheap at the school shop, they weren't super popular, and students tended to leave them at the shop after realizing they were the cheapest option of food I had." You laughed awkwardly. "It was a school of ruffians, and bullies, and people who hated me. But they had the decency to not want me to starve to death."

"You were hated?"

"By some. I wasn't popular, but I had my fair share of friends, don't worry." You assured. "I had the first years friend group, and the Housewardens, and the vice-housewardens and honorary vicehousewardens. Even a lot of the teachers liked me. And even if they didn't, I still had Grim. He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"He's still there, so he still is. We're just not together right now. It's like... it's like a part of me is missing, because he's my best friend." You tried. "And he's still there, but I can't see him, and I can't talk to him. I miss him, a lot. I think you'd like him." You smiled. "He used to sleep on my bed, every night. And he'd complain, and whine, and get both of us into trouble, but he was loyal to a fault, and he was always there when I needed him."

"Was your old headmaster that bad?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded enthusiastically. "He went on vacation so often, and it was more like I was the headmaster towards the end of my time there. What with the amount of paperwork and such I was handling in his stead. On top of schoolwork! And he put me in an old decrepit house, with a fire breathing cat. Granted, I asked for the cat to remain with me, but still. I'm sure he could've found somewhere else to put me."

"That sounds awful."

"It could be. But hey, think of it this way, now I'm prepared if you do this again." You teased. He nodded. "Don't feel too bad, Beel. You didn't even know I existed, you couldn't have done anything."

"I wish you would've told us."

"It's not easy to talk about." You admitted. "It's not like... I had the best experience with a lot of people there. I mean, Overblots, burnout, hunger, on top of basically being an unpaid therapist, an unpaid headmaster, and a full-time student? I was busy, and not every experience is a pleasant one. But it's a part of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. Because it was my experience." You explained. He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd like the people I met before. So many good cooks. And Lilia, who is on par with Solomon." You shuddered. "But there was also so many athletics clubs. I bet you'd really like Spelldrive." You smiled.

"Spelldrive?"

"Yeah!"

As you launched into an in-depth explanation of the sport, at least as you understood it, he simply watched. He was glad you'd opened up to him, and to hear that you weren't always alone. He would probably ask Satan if he could find anything about getting your cat for you. But for now, he was just happy to see you being comfortable enough to talk about your past.

Belphegor:

Belphegor liked to visit your dreams whenever you'd let him. They were always so interesting. They almost matched you, in that regard. As you were so strange in his eyes. He was very lucky, able to explore your good dreams. Dreams that told of friends, and adventure. Light hardship, sure, but mostly wonder. And happiness. Along with a cat that seemed to pop up in every dream. He didn't know that he only saw this because he didn't always tune into your dreams. Not every dream is a happy one.

It was one day, when you happened to be taking a nap in his general vicinity, that he drifted off, and entered your dream. He prepared himself for the bright light of the outside of Night Raven College, and for the happy smiling faces, or the sound of laughter, as he usually saw when he joined your in your dreams. What he wasn't expecting, was the fire. The screaming, the fear. He was prepared to watch on happily as you got to see your friends, the people you consider family, in your dreams, but instead, he only saw your terror.

He couldn't look away as you looked on in terror as eight towering figures, covering in black ink, with massive ink monsters behind them cornered you. He recognized some of these faces, they were those of your friends. They were friends, friends who would drive you to work harder, and do better, but would always be there to help in any way they could, if they could, when you asked.

But there was one face he was shocked to see, moreso than the friends. It was your cat. Your cat that had been changed into a hulking, massive beast, and it looked more wild than he had ever seen. It wasn't talking anymore, none of those smart ass comments he'd overhear, it was growling at you, roaring at you. It had never done that before.

Belphegor, unable to stand by as you feared for your life, even in a dream, quickly made his way to in front of you, his back to you.

"You need to wake up."

You heard him, but his voice was muddled in your panic, it sounded like he was under water. You looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wake! UP!" He commanded.

You shot up, gasping for air, as you woke up. Belphegor followed not long after, making his way over, and sitting beside you, as you began to calm down from such a panic-inducing dream. He sat beside you until your breathing was under control, and you weren't shaking as much anymore.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, and feeling embarrassed. It wasn't often that you had these nightmares, but they were always intense and unpleasant when you did. You didn't think he knew, he'd never visited those dreams. It's not as though you were actively hiding it, you'd told him that you'd had nightmares before, but you were ashamed that he had seen them firsthand.

You both just sat in silence for several moments, before he spoke first.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, softly.

"They don't know about the nightmares. I mean, my closer friends do, but those who the nightmares are about, don't. They don't need that."

"Why are they in your nightmares? And why did they look like that?"

"They lost control of their emotions, and their magic overwhelmed them. They weren't in control, when they looked like that. That was their anger, and sadness, their pain, that was in control of them, with their magic creating the ink monsters behind them." You explained, quietly. "I don't blame them, no one can be expected to hold it together for so long, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

"And your cat?"

"I don't know why I have nightmares about him like that." You admitted. "I think it's because I miss him, and I'm scared of what will happen to him without me there."

"How long have you had these nightmares?"

"They started after the first Overblot, that's what they're called," you explained simply, "but they only got worse as more Overblots happened."

"Was there no one you could go to?" You shook your head.

"I couldn't go to Crowley, he was useless," you laughed humorlessly, "the teachers were nice, but they couldn't do anything. I told my friends, and they tried their best, but nothing ever really helped. Grim used to sleep on my bed with me, and that would chase the nightmares away pretty well, but," you trailed off.

"You don't have him with you now, so the nightmares are back with a vengeance?" You nodded, smiling a little at his wording. He wrapped an arm around you. "Do you miss him?"

"I do."

He knew you did, he knew that was a redundant question. But he wanted to hear it from you, as a sort of confirmation. He felt bad that you missed your cat, and he wished he could do something about it, but he knew he couldn't. So you two just sat in silence, comforted by the warmth of the room, and the calm atmosphere around the two of you.

He had always wondered why, or even how, you'd taken his actions in stride. How you'd forgiven him so easily. He knew now, that it was just in your nature after having gone through so much at your last school. He decided in that moment that he'd make an effort to be the person to hold a grudge on your behalf, to let people know that you may have forgiven them, but he certainly hasn't, and he hasn't forgotten what they've done to you. He didn't voice this, but he knew that you knew how he felt.

But for now, you two just sat there, comfortable, and warm. He wanted to apologize, and say he'd do everything in his power to get you your cat, but he didn't want to say that without a guarantee that he could do it. So there you sat, close, and comfortable.

"I'll chase your nightmares away." He offered, just barely a whisper, yet because of your proximity, you heard it.

"Thanks Belphie." You smiled tiredly, happy to hear that he would protect your dreams.

You drifted off not long after, Belphie following close behind. But he kept his word, and your nightmares didn't plague you after that, whenever Belphie could help it.

[irana5711]

would u write anything for homicipher’s mc (Adami) x gn reader…IM STARVING!!! I leave it up to ur imagination

HELL YEAHHHHHHHHH would you believe me if I said I did it already :3 a bit slow burn-ish, I cannot write without a fuck ton of context but enjoy mc saving u from Mr. Stitch bwhwwhhewhheqhhehwehwhehwheb I love her sm

You didn't know how you ended up there or when it happened. It just did. It took you a while to comprehend where exactly you had been transported. Hoping to meet someone else in this worn down place, you aimlessly wandered through the empty rooms and hallways. Coincidentally, you saw another man - tall, with a red jacket and furry hood. He rounded a corner and out of your sight, which prompted you to run after him without thinking of the consequences. As he passed by a door, it slammed open, and a pale hand dragged him in, the blood of the innocent man instantly splattering all over the floor and the surrounding surfaces. You cover your mouth and let out a small squeak before seeking shelter.

Thankfully, you found a pair of scissors lying around. That should come in handy! Shivering, cold, and distraught, you went slower this time, looking for human activity and someone worthy of your trust. A loud rumble echoed throughout the entire place, making tears well up in your eyes from the powerful scare. Was this your end? The hallway you were exploring split into two, and you ran back into an adjacent room. It seemed cleaner than the others, the wallpaper still mostly intact, a bed and a dusty table. On the bed sat a girl with short, white hair and blood stains in her raincoat. Oh, God. This is it. You're gonna die just like that man. You could just hope it was painless.

The figure croaked out something that you couldn't understand. It seemed to try two languages before finally deciding on just one. It pointed at you, repeating a word multiple times before the message was received by your disheveled mind: "You." She was saying "You." Then, she pointed to herself. "Me." Back then, you didn't know that "You" and "Me" would become so important later on.

You sat down on the floor, in front of her, looking up at the stained raincoat and the dirty crowbar that lay on the bed next to her hip.

"Me? You?" you said, moving your hands to check if you understood well. Her nod confirms your suspicions. Then, she points to different objects in the room and demonstrates how the language works. It felt like a breath of fresh air, having someone talk to you like an equal, in a place where you had been so violently proven that your life meant nothing. The bond had already started forming.

It only took a few hours for you to learn that primitive way of communication, and you started teaching her bits and pieces of your human language while she did the same for you. Using this, she introduced herself: Adami. Such a beautiful name... It had an exquisite ring, compared to the rough sounds of the ghostly people.

Soon, it became all about "You" and "Me." At first, you'd brush against her for comfort when a new entity approached. Then, slowly, she'd be the one to hold your hands when you were scared or when Mr. Gap appeared out of nowhere. "You, me, go together," "you, me, stay together" or "you, me, rest together."" It was sweet, having someone protect you in such a world. You didn't have the guts to question your relationship. Perhaps you were her comfort, maybe she saw in you what she once was. You were her anchor when she lost her temper, and she was your shield when a threat was nearby.

Nothing was clear to you. Friends did all of this, too, right? You were walking hand in hand, giggling at a joke Adami made when Mr. Stitch blocked your path.

"Me bored. Want fun?"

"No." she cuts him off furiously, shoving past him.

"Want fun! Want fun together them!"

The deranged ghost grips your arm, pulling you towards him as Adami holds onto your fingers.

"Them will not! You should leave!"

However silly this game of tug-o-war looked to an outsider, you were beyond frightened. Mr. Stitch was obviously not into the fun a normal person would resort to on a bad day. He was into the kind of fun that serial killers sought when sending body parts to the police. It was clear Adami couldn't help you - she'd hurt you in the process. Mr. Stitch ripped you from her arms, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of meat and ran off to God knows where. He hid you in the Cloth Monster's room, wrapping you in the long curtains that decorated it. Giggling, he gripped your throat and slithered the soft material around it, torturing you as he loosened and tightened it. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gasped for air when the door slammed open.

Coughing when your lungs could finally expand again, your vision was still blurred when Mr. Stitch transformed into a jumbled up mass of meat right before you. A trembling hand ripped off the fabric and you felt the familiar presence of Adami engulfing you in a hug.

"Me scared..."

Your heart throbbed wildly as you returned the tender embrace, removing her hood to get a closer look at her features. No matter how much she transformed, her eyes were always full of warmth when she gazed at you.

"Love... You and me together... Me love you..." she whispers, her free hand tilting your face up. Adami gets closer, giving you the choice to accept or reject her. You instantly press your lips together, your bodies melting into each other as you let your feelings overflow, your only regret being that you hadn't seen it sooner.

It didn't take long for the other residents to pick up on what was going on between the two of you. Moreover, Adami didn't even look at the cold, metallic doors of the elevator with the same curiosity as she did when she first descended into the other world. To her, it now meant separation, as you two would return to your respective places on Earth. What good was the freedom of humanity, when there was nothing left of her without you? At first, you thought she might want to go back to her old life, yet she always held your hand tighter. "You, me... together here."

[space-blue]

It's horrible too if Jinx lives!!

OK, I guess we're doing this?

People keep coming at me for my post about Jinx dying being terrible writing and promoting suicide by heroics as a valid way out, and the argument is always "Actually, Jinx is alive because XYZ"

So let me makes myself clear : if Jinx lives, it's also terrible writing!!

Because for all intent and purposes, she DOES DIE! Even if she's alive and fucked off in that blimp, she's still dead to everyone who knew and loved her.

WORSE! Vi will go on thinking for the rest of her life that Jinx died because of her, or at the very least that she couldn't save her.

It's not for no reason that Vi has this scene in the cell with Caitlyn, where she says she always choses wrong. In the scene on the crumbling metal beam, Vi choses not to listen to Jinx!

People got in my comments saying I have no humanity for reproving Vi picking "Vander's corpse" over Jinx. But what we see happen is Jinx telling Vi multiple time to get away and how to get to safety, and Vi completely ignoring her to interact with Vander/WW, only for him to wake up, attack her, and force Jinx to risk her life to save Vi.

Vi made a choice, between more time with Vander and listening to Jinx, and the price paid in the end is Jinx dying.

What if she lived and escaped? Vi doesn't know that! Ekko doesn't know that! Or Sevika! Or anyone!

Thought exercise time: close your eyes and imagine a relative disappearing for your life after a lethal accident you're involved in. You never recover a body and never see them again. How do you feel about it? Mmh?

"Oh but Caitlyn sees the schematics that show a side tunnel…"

Firstly, Caitlyn was nowhere near the event, and she can't frame-by-frame the explosion as we do, so you can hardly claim she's looking for Jinx and not, for example, the arcane gem, or Warwick.

Vander/WW was shown to be entirely impervious to the bullets from Jinx's automatic gun. If anyone has a chance of surviving, it'd be him.

But do you know what? If Jinx is in that blimp, and Caitlyn then tells Vi, "From the schematic, I think your sister could have escaped" (ignoring entirely the fact that Jinx should be cut in half by WW's claws wrapped around her waist), then what would happen???

That would send Vi on a wild goose's chase!! How many years would she spend hunting through Zaun trying to find her sister? How many years until she starts resenting Caitlyn for giving her false hope? How many years until she's forced to accept Jinx isn't anywhere, and so must have died back then, and has to see herself as Jinx's killer all over again??

How is this good for Vi?

And Ekko? He pulled her out of suicide what? 5 times? Had some epic bonding with her painting all over each other, doing self-care and hair dyes and fixing a balloon so they could go on a big attack together.

Maybe he thought he could genuinely finally be close to his world's Powder. Silco just taught him the greatest thing he can do is forgive, and the girl he forgives fakes her death and runs away?

They're barely 20 ffs, Jinx would have plenty of time to struggle on the road to recovery, especially with his help. What if Ekko was ready to be there along the way with her? What about him?

How is it good if Jinx is NOT dead but has NOT told him? What difference does it make to him? She's dead for Ekko, and if he learns later on that she faked her death, all he'll know is that HE wasn't worth her staying. He wasn't even worth telling the truth to!!!

It's fucked! It's not healthy!! Jinx could have her ending removing herself from Zaun without having to fake her death.

But hang on, it gets worse!

Because it's straight up not good writing even on the meta level.

Arcane has millions of viewers. Nobody I know IRL thinks Jinx is alive. Plenty of people in my notes agree she's dead. Do you know what millions of people think? That she is dead!!! Because it's the TEXT OF THE SHOW.

Millions of fans will think Jinx was killed off, because they aren't willing to go frame by frame, extrapolating and make-believing their way into thinking she is alive. Most fans are normal people who aren't terminally online, theorycrafting all day long.

Most normal fans have moved on to watch Dune Prophecy or Sweetpea. And if Jinx comes out alive in another show, the "Somehow Palpatine Jinx returned" memes will abound.

Let's go over the common elements brought forth as arguments.

Jinx uses pink and blue in that bomb, and pink is how she gets away "quick".

No? The bomb she attached to Thieram in season 1 was pink and it was all for glitter and harassment. There is no strong canon association of meaning. If you watch frame by frame, there is a pink "light gleam" over the first blue detonation followed by a very large pink blast and ZERO smoke trails or anything indication someone getting away. Jinx uses the same bomb she used to kill herself very effectively earlier in the show, so we have no indication it wouldn't kill her here too.

We can see the inside of her bomb when she kills herself (with the two liquid vials) and it's the same she uses on Vander/WW and herself.

Besides, even if she used some part of the explosion to get away, WW's claws are around her like this:

She'd be bisected in half.

So some people say that means that Warwick is also alive and let her go! But no. That's make-believe. That's fanon, 100%. The TEXT of the show is that Vander is burnt away (we see the final image of himself burning up) and he has just attacked Vi, trying to kill her. We have no indication he'd want to spare Jinx here.

HOWEVER, he's literally bullet proof, so if there's anything we can conclude is that he's likely to be the one to have made it into a shaft and to safety.

Speaking of shafts: the next argument is that Caitlyn is looking at the tower's schematics to hint that she suspects Jinx lives.

Maybe, but you are reading a character's mind. We see her look at schematics while holding the monkey bomb head, yes, but you don't know what she's thinking, and if the show runners don't make it explicit, then Cait's thoughts about an explosion she hasn't even witnessed aren't worth much. She could think Warwick lived. OR she could think, despite not witnessing the fight, that Jinx lived. But she doesn't KNOW, she doesn't tell us, and so you are INVENTING the thoughts of a character to mean what you want it to mean.

This would be a lot more meaningful if it were Vi investigating this.

There's a blimp going away, it has blue smoke, and then it ends with a Jinx glitch.

No. There is a blimp going away, slowly, without any blue smoke. It's also THE EXACT SAME ONE that opens Season 1 act 1.

Instead of coming towards Piltover, it now is leaving over the sea. This can be fully interpreted as a sign that the hextech era is over. Blimps have to travel the old fashioned way again. It's also going away from Piltover/Zaun, symbolizing future stories taking place there.

Finally, the glitch is 3 frames long and spells "the End". IDK why the fact that it's a little Jinxy means anything to anyone. The end of credits for season 1 was Jinxy as well, and it could simply be about keeping the same visual identity and not a sign of Jinx being alive???

If I wanted to play subtext games, I could say "Wow Jinx writing "the end" would be appropriate if she were dead" and reverse the argument.

Finally, and the thing in most poor taste, IMO.

Jinx kills herself several times in the opening of the episode, and a sad emo song plays over it, with sad fucked up lyrics. Then Ekko comes and pulls her from this…

Only for that EXACT same song to be played while she and Vander/WW fall. They are both crying. Vi is crying and screaming while these lyrics are playing!!

If I could just lay my head down and rest. If there was nothing to fight or protect. Maybe then I could finally be free. Maybe death is like falling asleep. This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. I used to have strength but I ran out of hope. I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone. This world is a wasteland. Please let me go. Go, go, go. Please let me go.

This is literally singing about suicide. When you say "Maybe death is like falling asleep" over the animation of a character pulling the pin, you are not dealing in subtext or metaphor of any kind.

One of the earlier shots literally has her framed in broken glass among shards that are WARWICK'S MAW. It's like a hint of her death being killed by him, furthering the parallel.

And I think it is in very bad taste to have suicide apologia music playing over characters screaming and bawling (Vi)

while others cry (Jinx and WW)

and a bomb goes off (with no hint of survival),

only for some of y'all to come around acting like Cait glowering at a blueprint and a recuring blimp all means Jinx is alive...

It would be grief porn on the part of the writers. It would mean slamming us in our feelings in a brutal way, in an ugly way, while playing a suicide song, only to turn around and say "Syke! didn't you get that Cait is suspicious about Jinx so it totally means it was all a fakeout?"

I don't want a fake-out at this point!! Why would I?? It's legit worse! Because then it means they couldn't spare 5min of animation time to have her rescued by Ekko and being on the mend with him. Even if she has a scene where she tells him "I need to leave. I can't stay in this city), at least it wouldn't be a cruel joke on the fans and the characters.

This entire ending means that either Jinx was better off dying taking out the mad monster made out of her dad with her (making her the ultimate dad killer, yay), or Jinx was better off removing herself from the equation SO THOROUGHLY that MOST fans believe it, everyone in world believe it, and the show offers no concrete textual clue for it.

It means Jinx didn't deserve/or wasn't able to get better. And so she has to die or do the exact-same-as-dying but kind of more fucked up somehow.

---

ULTIMATELY the message to impressionable viewers who struggle a lot with mental health and identified a lot with Jinx, are being told with soft sad music that yeah maybe dying is like going to sleep and your family should let you go, go, go, and that "leaving everything and everyone behind" is about the same.

It's fucked, and it saddens me that people are so focused on the "she lived" narrative that they miss out the fact that a hint she may be alive doesn't change the messaging.

And it saddens me knowing that if Viktor's arc ended with him being validated in feeling like his human body was "broken" and "inferior" and that his disability made him lesser as a human, people would have pitchforks and torches out.

Jinx's mental illness and struggles in interacting with the world were her disability, and she got fucking killed or wiped off the city incognito for it.

--

P.S: If you're warming up to post hate in comments or tags because you don't like my take and don't know how to politely disagree, please save us both time and block me. I'm open to polite discourse but the next person questioning my humanity over fandom wank will be nuked from orbit with prejudice.

[lumitoiile]

zhongli : [fleeting.]

☆ — tw! + content: by the time the lord of geo even comes to terms with his feelings, it's already far too late... angst, themes of d3.th. gn! reader (no pronouns.)

throughout the extended course of his life, zhongli has long since learned to appreciate the beauty in all things—even the temporary ones. 

the way the leaves fall from trees, the glow of lanterns at night, the way the wind breezes through the streets of liyue harbor... all things that would eventually come to pass, eroding away with time. mortals were very much the same. he has walked alongside them, observed them, and let them go, as is the way of the world.

then you came along.

you weren't the first human to intrigue him, but there was something bewildering about your presence in his life. perhaps it was how you treated him so unguardedly, never hesitating to share your thoughts, your laughter, your kindness.

you worked at a small tea shop he frequented, and though he'd initially visit for the quality of the tea, he found himself returning for another reason entirely. he told himself it was simple admiration, an appreciation for your warmth and the light you brought into the lives of others. but deep down, he knew he couldn't be fooled.

there was something different about you. something he could never fully place. it gnawed at the edges of his mind, bothering him in ways that defied his understanding. you would smile at him with an openness that felt disarmingly sincere, and speak to him with an ease he'd only ever known among those closest to him in his long, distant past.

it was troubling. dangerous. even in his mortal guise, he should have known better than to allow such feelings to grow.

so he kept his distance. you were temporary, after all; a fleeting thing. even when you would reach out with a friendly invitation or make a small effort to draw him closer, he would find an excuse to step back. to draw a line, to remind himself who he was... and what you were.

he decided he would simply admire you from afar, steadfast in his resolve and having convinced himself he was doing the right thing. what would come of permitting himself to indulge? only heartache and loss, things he had seen unfold countless times before.

there was one day when you had lingered by his table a bit longer than usual, a hopeful look in your eyes. "mister zhongli, would you care to join me on a walk? my shift ends soon, and the sunset is just lovely at this hour."

he hesitated, a flash of warmth stirring in his chest at the thought alone. he could almost picture it, walking with you, sharing a quiet moment alone together as the sun dipped below the horizon.

but he would not let himself yield. he cleared his throat, offering an apologetic smile. "i appreciate the offer, but i have business to attend to."

you nodded once and tried to hide the disappointment in your eyes. but he saw through you, and the sight lingered with him long after he left the tea shop.

still, no matter how many times he had refused you, your kindness never wavered. as the years passed by, you continued to reach out in small ways—a shared story, a cup of tea specially brewed just the way he liked, an invitation to join you on an evening stroll. sometimes he accepted, allowing himself brief moments of joy and companionship.

but he always maintained a wall between the two of you, an invisible barrier he felt he could not cross. he constantly reminded himself that it was for the best; you were human, he had told himself, incredibly fragile. it would be cruel to impose on your life, no matter how brief it might be. the least he could do was ensure that your world remained free of his interference.

but time moved on, as it always does.

your laughter grew quieter, your once sure steps slower. zhongli saw the signs and felt the familiar pang of inevitability. he watched as you grew older, the years etching lines of wisdom into your face and leaving your loud, bright voice soft with age, until one day... you simply weren't there.

he visited the tea shop for the first time in ages, only to receive confused looks and strange stares upon asking for you. who was he referring to? there was no one here by that name, they had said. no one they knew of.

you were gone.

loss was not a new experience for zhongli. though it wasn't until he reached the place where your ashes had been scattered—a spot up in the mountains overlooking the harbor—that he truly understood the finality of it all. there would be no more lingering glances, soft smiles, or warm invitations to walk with you and admire the sunset. he would never again see the way your eyes lit up when you'd greet him hello, or hear your laughter.

the regret sank in like a stone, unyielding and overwhelming. he had anticipated this. he thought he had prepared himself for this. but the painful ache in his chest grew into something sharp, something that twisted with every breath he took.

he knelt there, reflecting on every opportunity he had missed, the words he never expressed, the warmth he had turned away from. he told himself it was for the best, that he was doing what was right... that a god had no business falling for a mortal. yet here he was, mourning you with a grief so profound it left him hollow.

"i thought this was the answer," he said, his words disappearing into the gentle breeze. "i believed i could spare myself this pain by keeping you at arm's length. but perhaps... i was a fool."

the wind rustled gently around him, offering a small sense of comfort. he closed his eyes and allowed the ache to settle within him. he stayed there for what must have been hours, grieving quietly as cherished memories of you played in his mind. in that moment, he realized that there had been no safety in the distance he kept, no way to avoid the torture of your absence.

and as the sun faded below the mountains, casting the harbor in hues of gold and amber, he had finally declared the words he had never spoken aloud.

"i cared for you," he whispered. "more than i should have. more than you knew..."

the wind carried his words away, fading into the stillness of the world. morax, the god of contracts, had lost something he could never retrieve—not with all the wealth and wisdom in the world.

perhaps in another life, he could have loved you properly.

© lumitoiile. please do not copy, steal, translate, or edit my work.

[aonemanarmy]

The explanation Vincent attempted to make for the Turks wasn't nearly enough to sway Sephiroth's opinion, although no one could've really done so considering his mental state. Trying to reason with a madman would always prove fruitless and an exercise in frustration, but it was nevertheless admirable that the gunman had made the attempt. Precious few other people would've bothered to grant Sephiroth even that much consideration, yet it was something that he'd come to except and even accept before long.

“And yet, they signed that contract fully knowing the consequences that would come of it.”

No one had held a gun to the Turks' heads to get them to sign their contracts. They had done so willingly all for the promise of money or power regardless of the consequences, that or they had foolishly thought themselves to be above them. Whatever the case was it all amounted to the same thing – that they had chosen their fate and as such Sephiroth couldn't feel any form of pity for them, not even if he were capable of such an emotion.

…What makes you think I could easily take theirs, when I hesitate to take yours?

He didn't. It was actually one of the things that had persistently bothered him about Vincent's presence. As a creature of logic and instinct Sephiroth couldn't understand why Vincent hadn't killed him yet or at the very least made a decent attempt. He always expected it, but so far it had never come and the fact that it hadn't continued to be a point of confusion for him because it made no sense. After all, why would Vincent not kill him?

Sephiroth already knew that humans saw him as a weapon at best and a monster at worst, so why hesitate in destroying him? Once he'd broken free of the shackles that bound him to Shinra's control he was no longer of any use to humans and had become an active threat to them, which was why he fully expected each and ever one of them that were capable to try to kill him. So why didn't Vincent?

Was it really because the ex-Turk thought himself responsible for had happened to him? If that were the case then he should've killed Sephiroth upon their first encounter, to make amends for the monster he'd released upon the world. There was no reason to keep the madman alive as he could no longer be controlled, and as such could no longer be used either. He was a liability and they both knew it, so why...?

The only logical conclusion he could draw was that Vincent wouldn't kill him because of some sort of deal he'd struck with Jenova, although what that deal was exactly remained a mystery to him. However, even that line of reasoning didn't explain why the gunman hadn't seized upon the opportunity when they'd first met back in the Shinra Mansion. By all means Vincent should've killed him and he didn't like the idea of not knowing why that was, but before he could voice those thoughts aloud the gunman continued in a soft, almost forlorn-sounding voice.

What was with that tone of voice?

Sephiroth couldn't understand sympathy as he'd never been the recipient of it before and as such he lacked the capability of expressing it himself. So when he heard it in Vincent's voice he was unsure what exactly he was hearing and automatically assumed that it was somehow meant to be taken as demeaning. But why ever would a lion concern itself with the opinion of sheep?

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in Sephiroth's voice as his answer came automatically, as if it were obvious, and in his mind it was.

There was no question in Sephiroth's mind that dying would've been a mercy rather than living through what he had. What life could there be for him anyway? The only life he'd ever known was one of suffering, where he spent each waking moment living in fear of what new horrors the next day would bring. Worse still was knowing that he would never be able to escape from it, since when he tried he only suffered more and was left praying to whatever uncaring gods might've been out there to let it all end. Unfortunately for him those pleas for mercy were never answered and even when he tried to take matters into his own hands he found himself incapable of doing so.

Jenova wouldn't allow it.

Sephiroth didn't know it then, but even without meeting his 'mother' in person that Jenova's cells still retained some measure of control over him. As an entity beyond mortal comprehension Jenova was essentially immortal, and as such her cells always sought to survive no matter how harsh and unforgiving the circumstances. This survival instinct was hard-coded into her very DNA, so it required no conscious thought on her cells' part to act whenever their host was threatened, which was why whenever Sephiroth had tried to kill himself his attempts always failed. Either he would find his muscles freeze up and refuse to cooperate or the wounds he'd sustained would miraculously heal themselves no matter how severe the damage. It was as if his own body was working against him and in that regard it was true, and for that his suffering was forced to continue.

If only he'd been capable then he would've died long before ever reaching adulthood or even before he'd become a teenager. Things would've been so much better if that were the case, so knowing Vincent could've possibly granted him that wish and didn't was infuriating.

“What is this life that you speak of?” He spread his arms wide, the smile on his lips a stark juxtaposition to the topic of their conversation. “Forgive me if I fail to see this existence as something worthy of treasuring.”

Dropping his arms Sephiroth walked toward the gunman, only pausing beside of him as he considered the thoughts that must've been running through the other man's head. Did he truly struggle with such a decision? Did he really think that any form of life no matter how awful was worth living? If that were true then it only served to prove how naive Vincent was in spite of all that had happened to him.

“Would you have chosen this existence if you were given the option to chose between it and oblivion?” Sephiroth strode past the other man to gaze up the path winding up the canyon where several figures in black began to appear – the first of Hojo's failed cloning attempts finally making their way here. “If this is what life is meant to be then I want no part of it. Fortunately, mother has granted me an alternative, one which I had not thought possible until recently.”

It was also the only option he had left since Sephiroth knew that death would never be able to truly claim him.

The venom in Sephiroth’s voice was anything but subtle. Sephiroth could lightly regard anyone else’s plight in favor of his own. And while others would have spurned it all in the name of calling Sephiroth a full-bred monster, Vincent could understand Sephiroth’s point of view to some degree. However, he also knew that what Sephiroth knew of the Turks was only from the viewpoint of someone who had no understanding of kindness, of sympathy, a conscience, or simply moral dilemma. One couldn’t have a set of morals without an opposing side to compare it with. There was no point in correcting Sephiroth’s opinions in that respect.

“I cannot speak for the other departments. But as a Turk, the only way to leave Shinra is death. To defy ones orders could also lead to the same punishment.” The Turks were like walking secret databases. They were a huge liability to the company. The only free Turk was a dead Turk. Once a Turk, always a Turk.

Perhaps to Sephiroth, death was indeed a choice. But for mortals, it was the end of everything. Yet knowing this, Vincent had chosen to defy Hojo. He should have been dead. But instead, he had received an even worse punishment. Neither of them had the choice of becoming a monster. But unlike Sephiroth, Vincent did have a choice stepping into Shinra and submitting himself as a permanent employee of Shinra. He had a choice to become complacent and allow Hojo to work unsullied. He would have probably been high up in the ranks, and still be human, well respected within Shinra as head of the Turks. But now he was a killing machine, Sephiroth was a monster, and Lucrecia’s existence hung in the balance. If death could be considered a choice, then technically Sephiroth was correct. Knowing what Vincent knew of the Jenova cells, death was a luxury to even Sephiroth. The man was indeed a prisoner to the inevitable. It was tragic… something Sephiroth was quick to remind Vincent about. What was more blood on top of blood already spilled?

Vincent knew there was little he could do to explain the reasoning behind his motivation to spare the life of another. A soft glare crossed over Vincent’s face as Sephiroth trivialized his past murders. At this point, he couldn’t tell if it was Sephiroth or Jenova trying to worm their way under his nerves. Either way, he could feel a trap once again being laid. It was just a ploy to get him to do even more killings. “…What makes you think I could easily take theirs, when I hesitate to take yours?” Sephiroth had killed more than all the Turks combined. He was the most feared being in the entire planet, outside of Jenova. While one could argue Sephiroth had committed the greater evil, the flip-side could also be stated that Sephiroth saw himself as a savior. The Turks were ‘just doing their job’. Sephiroth was ‘just doing what Jenova wanted’. The sharp gaze from Sephiroth didn’t visually affect Vincent, but he felt it very keenly all the same. It was fleeting, but that response was coming from the depths of a hurt boy buried long ago. As Sephiroth drew his gaze upward, his second comment caught Vincent a bit off guard. Was Sephiroth admitting he had wished he had perished those many years ago…? Vincent wouldn’t have doubted such a dark thought had crossed his mind. It had certainly been one of his own wishes as well. The question made the gunslinger grimace and look away, diverting his gaze towards some of the gaping caverns where the winds were swirling. He wasn’t any better than Sephiroth. But at least he had something to anchor his sanity onto-- For now at least. He was merely a step away from becoming no different. “To kill the son of the woman who loved him” Vincent spoke more to himself than to Sephiroth, his fist tensing slightly at his side. "Or to let him live, knowing he would suffer." The guilt-laden gunslinger lifted his eyes, finally meeting Sephiroth's dagger-like gaze; his own eyes reflecting something akin to sympathy and less malice. "You were robbed of a normal life, yes." "...But should I have deprived you of a chance to live, as well?"

[shallowseeker]

dean forgiving castiel for season 6 is always so wild. like some of the stuff in s6-7 is excused by castiel being high on the power of thousands of souls and i imagine dean just dismisses them quickly (bc in dean's position the moment cas showed up all weak i'd be like. oh fuck), but the rest of it is CRAZY. LIKE. CRAAAZY. s6 was filled to the brim with hot girl cas femme fatale moments and dean is just "nae.. i love him"

Dean, like Claire Novak, is on the whole, perhaps a little too forgiving at times. :-) Dean is usually very good at (a) reading people and (b) having genuine sympathy for where they're coming from.

I feel like the whole bit where he's talking to Emmanuel is so lovely for this. It's in 7x17, where he's verbalizing how Cas feels *different*:

DEAN: Honestly, I-I-I don't know if he is dead. I just know that this... whole thing couldn't be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but... I always could. What Cas did... I just can't – I don't know why. EMMANUEL/CASTIEL: Well, it doesn't matter why. DEAN: Of course it matters. EMMANUEL/CASTIEL: No. You're not a machine, Dean. You're human. 

///

There's also Dean acknowledging the absolute horror and no-win characteristic of the world Cas hails from:

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL: Why wouldn't you tell me? Being an angel – it sounds pleasant. DEAN: It's not, trust me. It's bloody, it's corrupt. It's not pleasant.

///

Then, there's Dean carrying the torch, being the ever-hopeful mechanic, always wanting to fix it.

DEAN: If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time. CASTIEL: Don't defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth? CASTIEL stops and turns to face DEAN. CASTIEL: We didn't part friends, Dean. DEAN: So what? CASTIEL: I deserved to die. Now, I can't possibly fix it... So why did I even walk out of that river? DEAN: Maybe to fix it. Wait. DEAN opens the trunk of the car and takes out CASTIEL’s trenchcoat. He holds it out to CASTIEL.

///

Finally, there's the tragedy of still wanting Cas's help and support... but of course... Cas carries the penance too far and Dean is immediately HORRIFIED and conflicted by what unfolds:

DEAN: Shift? CASTIEL: Yeah, it would get Sam back on his feet. CASTIEL quickly sits on the bed close to SAM. CASTIEL: It's better this way. I'll be fine. DEAN: Wait, Cas, what are you doing?

[aziraphales-library]

Hey there! Do you have any refs for fics involving a road trip (extra points if its aziracrow as Angel/demon and not an au altho aus are lovely too!!)

Hi! We have some road trip fics here, and I've got more now...

leave you faithless by midnightbotany (T)

As Aziraphale struggles with the demands of his new role as Supreme Archangel, a heartbroken Crowley embarks on a journey around the world hoping to stop Armageddon. Again.

Where The Furniture Used To Be by Magpie_BKK (T)

The Bentley has mysteriously brought Crowley back to central London, just as an old friend turns up at the bookshop. But not everything is as it appears, and Crowley finds himself on the run with an amnesiac angel, trying to unlock his memories along the way.

The Lost Apostle by miraworos (G)

After a long hiatus, Crowley badgers Aziraphale to go on a road trip with him. But it's more a quest than a road trip, and both Crowley and Aziraphale may be getting into more than they bargained for. Bentley POV.

Waterfall by duustbunny (E)

Two years after Aziraphale accepts the Metatron’s offer, Crowley is captured as he attempts to infiltrate Heaven and Aziraphale is tasked with executing public punishment. Instead, he lets the demon lead him on a quest to recover a lost item that can help them stop the end of the world once more. Because Heaven is not the boss of him anymore, and preventing the Apocalypse will never stop being his and Crowley’s job.

The Journey by ElderlySardine (M)

“Anthony J Crowley… Mayfair, London… Next of kin: Mr A Z Fell…” Crowley nodded. It wasn’t as if he had anyone else. “Emergency contact: also Mr Fell…” Crowley had almost stopped listening. “Relationship to applicant: husband…” “Husband?!” Crowley and Mrs Lowry spoke together as one, for the first and almost certainly the last time in their lives. “Husband.” Crowley recovered first, and fixed Mrs Lowry with a hard stare into which he infused just a little bit of demonic energy. “Is that a problem?” It was a problem. It was Aziraphale's harebrained plan, and it was clearly doomed to failure, as well as embarrassment and ignominy. But since when had Crowley been able to say no to the angel? It was only two weeks, and 3,850 miles. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

hurry back, please bring it back home to me by Percyjacksonfan3 (T)

“Why should I?” The demon interrupts cuttingly. “You’ve made it perfectly clear where your priorities lie and anything I say won’t make a bit of difference.” “That’s not true at all.” Aziraphale replies after a long hurt moment. “And you know it. Besides, you’re being stubborn. You’ll help me eventually.” Rage flashes over Crowley’s face. “You think so, do you?” Aziraphale juts his chin up stubbornly, ignoring the unpleasant feelings Crowley’s expression stirs in him. “Yes.” Aziraphale needs Crowley's help in saving humanity from the Second Coming and despite what happened between them he's determined to get it. After all, it's not only that he needs Crowley, but his plan also includes their car. As for the other matters between the two of them... well there's no reason those can't be sorted out along the way as well, is there? Or, a possible take on Series 3 that includes the Bentley, a resurrected Jesus Christ set on bringing about the End of Days, and an angel and a demon who are stupidly in love with each other but are both suffering from a lack of experience on how to actually deal with said emotions. Emphasis on the stupidly.

- Mod D

[paintthetownblack]

Another Night

Eric x reader

Part I ; Part II ; Part III

A goofier take on sharing a coffin with Eric, and some revelations that pull the plot along.

-

Pam refused any and all words from Eric beyond that point, and took her diamond quilted pink coffin, first I had seen it, into the former dungeon, carrying it like a sulking toddler all the way across the main room, to get as far away from me as possible. She saw me as a kind of liability, I couldn't argue with her.

Eric pretended not to care about her silent protest, "if you were really serious about it, you'd go to ground out in the woods." He told her.

"I would, if it weren't already light out." She responded, before slamming the basement door. I can't understand how she manged it. And just before she did, Eric got in one last line "It shouldn't stop you." He certainly didn't mean that. I had only been there three months, as a mere employee, and two days as Eric's human, but I already knew he would rather meet the sun himself than let Pam do it.

Annoyed with his progeny, he took me into the "coffin room". There, like a pile of unused chairs, stood stacked in a corner, a couple of standard coffins. "Who do those belong to?"

"They belonged to vampires who were with us, through the decades. Obviously, they are no longer. Come." I had been so distracted by the idea of ghost vampires eyeing me from behind those coffins, that I missed the double coffin with its red lining peaking out from the edges of the lid. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?" He said, as a way of lightening the mood.

"A bit late to ask me that." Luckily, I wasn't really.

He opened the lid, the lining glowed from inside like a pool of blood. I didn't know why, but I felt suddenly hesitant to sleep next to him. It sounded in my mind more intimate than sex. I knew he was weakened by the sunlight outside, and I was somehow afraid to be next to him, when I felt he was vulnerable. I must have internalized Pam's attitude. But he took my hand and helped me inside, and in feeling his touch, I got a reprieve from my thoughts. For a second there, it was all warm and fuzzy inside my brain.

He let the lid close, and we were in darkness. Eric was completely motionless, as I struggled to find a position. I laid on my back, but my neck bothered me, so I turned to my side, to face away from him, and coming up so close to the fabric lined wooden plank made me claustrophobic, I flipped to my back again, still not comfortable, so I turned to face Eric. "Wanna swap?" I whispered, fully aware of the absurdity of the situation.

"No." I just knew he was smiling, even though I couldn't see him.

"Fine." I fluffed my pillow a bit, barely keeping myself from laughing, as the absurdity increased, and then I settled down somewhat. I bent one knee and nudged him. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just go to sleep."

"Can I try something?"

"Can you try it quietly?"

I put my arm across him, and leaned by head on his shoulder, that was the neck support I was looking for. He didn't make a sound, or a gesture, which I took to mean he didn't mind me, so I could drift off.

I woke up at some point, during the late afternoon, Eric was still asleep, and I tried not to stir too much, as I pushed the lid ajar and snuck a peak outside. I threw one leg out over the edge, braced my weight against the ground with one hand, and slid out, rolling onto the floor. I would have made a lesser commotion, getting out the normal way. The normal way of getting out of a coffin, the kind of thing I never thought I'd contemplate. Most people only went into coffins, with assistance, of course, and never came back out. There was a rebirth metaphor somewhere in that, and I felt inclined to contemplate it, as I went outside.

The sunset was just a sliver of orange glow on the far horizon now, the warmth of the day still fresh and radiating from the asphalt around me. I could almost hear the distance between myself and the rest of the world, knowing it was just me and the two vampires inside, for miles in each direction.

The door opened behind me, it didn't startle me, it was Eric, his shirt open, his hair messy. "How are you-" I had started.

"The sun is low enough, I'll be fine." He said inspecting the sky, appearing not entirely convinced it was safe for him, but not finding any resistance.

There was Eric Northman, standing against this flame blue and orange sunset, with his guard down, not even stopping to fix his hair, it was like a moment suspended outside of time and space. It should have been impossible.

It comes at a cost. Was the line that echoed through my mind, out of nowhere. Catastrophic thinking. Always ran in the family. I tried to soothe it away, but it had taken over, and spoiled the warm halo descending around the building. Before long, it was pitch black. We hadn't said a word for a long time.

I went towards Eric, he was watching me intently. I stopped about a foot in front of him, and saw his eyes change, like he had just made peace with something, settled into an abstract idea. I outstretched my hands, and he grasped them. "Let's go for a drive." I said. He didn't hesitate, he popped inside, into his office, to get the car keys. When he re-emerged, his shirt was done up neatly, and his hair was smoothed down, he had stopped by a mirror, evidently. But he tossed the keys my way, which surprised me, though I caught them.

I was driving, that was a level of agency above what I expected. We got into his Corvette and did as teenagers do, when they want for privacy, we drove out to a makeout point near Bon Temps, a plateau on the edge of the woods, overlooking the town. There were no other cars, and I was starting to feel the embarrassment, for having driven there. Eric, on the other hand, was having quite the time, fluttering his eyelashes in the passenger seat "Did you bring me here to seduce me?"

"I brought you here, because the view is pretty. But not as pretty as you." Playing into the joke, I felt more at ease.

"Stop. You're making me blush." He had resumed his smoldering gaze and serious tone. "You are beautiful. I don't think I told you that before. For that, I am sorry." I was taken aback by that. We had lost all levity in a few words, but they were lovely words I didn't think I'd hear. And I liked hearing them. I didn't miss the levity.

"You are beautiful." I meant it, but I didn't know if he would believe. "Eric." I held his eyes, his big blue eyes, there was so much emotion in them, when he let them show it, but he often blocked it out, with his unapproachable smug act.

"Anything?" He raised his eyebrows.

"No, nothing." He seemed almost disappointed. And then he leaned over to kiss the top of my head.

The stars shone through the windshield and bathed us in a hazy glow. The windshield was dusty as well, and it added to the mood. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky all summer. That was a consolatory thought, for some reason.

I unhooked my seatbelt and moved over, up on Eric's lap. I pushed aside the hair on my neck, and leaned towards him. His fangs popped out. I held his shoulders, I could feel the muscle striations under my fingertips, it was anchoring. He bit me, holding the back of my head with a kind of care that said volumes. My whole body was aching for him, I felt my pulse reach down between my legs. What was it about my bloodline that made being bitten by a vampire seem so erotic? If that was even to blame.

Eric let go, and pulled my head down to his shoulder. I let the intensity wash over me. And I listened. There obviously was no heartbeat to listen to, there was mine, and it was rapid. However, next to it, I was hearing another rhythm, slower, less even, not a heart, a sea, with waves lapping at the shore. I could smell it, and I could see it. It was clear and cold, and the eyes through which I was seeing were low to the ground and moving sporadically across the beach, they seemed to be the eyes of a child.

I lifted my head, some of my hair got caught in his stubble. I brushed it down, I took the opportunity to graze his cheek "what were you thinking just now? What was in your mind?"

"What?" He was surprised, to the point where some of his swedish accent came through "it was an ancient memory. I was a child when it happened. Playing on the beach, watching the sea." He understood why I had asked and he shifted between amazement and concern. I got the sense that he was someone who, though afraid of vulnerability, very much wanted to be understood.

"It's a beautiful memory." I tucked some of his hair behind his ears. It was too short to stay. There was blood pooling in his eyes. I didn't know what I'd say to comfort a one thousand year old viking warrior vampire, so I kept smoothing his hair down, and it seemed to help.

"It's your blood."

"I know." I had just come to the same realization. Everytime he drank my blood, I got inside his mind.

"I hate to break up this lovely moment, but we should speak to Pamela about this."

"She is going to love this development." I rearranged myself in the driver's seat.

Eric wiped away a tear, and used it to heal the bite marks with, not looking towards me. "Are you good to drive?"

I nodded and started the engine. We made good time towards Fangtasia. Eric kept his window lowered the whole way, looking out contemplatively, gravely. We arrived to find the "closed" sign on the door. Eric's exasperated face told me this would be interesting.

He got out of the car and went inside with vampire speed. When I caught up, I saw him, arms crossed, looking unimpressed, as Pam was sinking her fangs in the femoral artery of a young girl in a silvery sequin dress. Pam raised her head, and the girl gasped. "A little privacy?" She turned slowly and defiantly towards her maker.

"Fine. Wrap up here and meet me in my office. We have important business to discuss." I went after him, feeling all the uncomfortable feelings of being walked in on by your parents, while understanding what it was like to be the parent, at the same time.

We were joined by Pam not much later, she had wiped the blood from her face and reapplied her powder and lipstick, she looked like a porcelain doll. "This better be good."

"It is." Eric responded from his desk chair. "I need you to think of something-"

"Of course, I'm the only one doing any rational thinking around here anyway."

"Cute. I need you to go to a memory, whatever specific memory. Actually, pick something from before she was born."

"That's not difficult, she's practically five minutes old." Pam closed her eyes, raised her eyebrows, tilted her head "done."

"Anything?" Eric looked at me.

I shook my head. As I stood in front of Pam, I came up blank. I took her hands, she opened her eyes, and looked at me disapprovingly. But I was looking on a newspaper page. San Francisco Examiner, 1888, "The Whitechapel Fiend?" I asked her. She stepped away from me and took her hands from mine.

"That would be Jack the Ripper to you. I was around when he was just getting started." She stood at a right angle from me, arms crossed, processing. "So you are a telepath afterall."

"There is a catch. Only when I've recently drunk her blood, can she tap into memories." Eric explained, resting his feet up on his desk.

I was like a pillar in the middle of the office, or Pam was using me as such. She stood with her arms crossed in front of me, and each time she spoke towards Eric, she leaned past my frame, then she retreated. And I was shorter than her, so it must have been comical, from where Eric was sitting.

"So her blood is in you, which means that she can see into your thoughts. And, because you're my maker, and we share the same bloodline, she can also see into my thoughts."

"On a smaller scale, but yes." Eric added.

"Just like a vampire."

"Lasts less than a day, though."

"What is she again?"

"She doesn't know." I answered her.

"Adorable." Sarcastic to the bone. "Anything else you'd like to add?"

"You were scared." I said, not sure whether I should have. "You were only seventeen, and you were scared." I felt for her, but I also wanted to humble her, if that was at all possible. And I wanted to hug her, but I was afraid of what she would do, if I tried. Eric gave her a sympathetic look, though.

"It was mass hysteria. We were across the ocean from the action, and we thought we were in danger. It was nonsense." She went to lean against the desk, back to Eric.

"I don't think it was nonsense."

"Here's what definitely is. Keeping you around. We know the extent of her powers now, and, thank fuck, the effect of her blood is temporary. She is dangerous to have around, and she has nothing on us, Eric. Let. Her. Go."

Eric was about to interject, when we started to hear a police siren approaching.

[kathbunny]

Okay!! So!! Blah posted art of library monster Maxim so I am going to do a little bit writing for the au here on Tumblr bc why not!!

Context that you barely need due to the fact it won't be mentioned or be important:

• it is an isekai au! Pretty classic isekai stuff! VR-LA was a guy in a normal modern world, he liked a video game, something happened and he ended up in the game's world! Simple stuff, he runs off from home, starts the adventure from the game, cheeses some stuff with his knowledge. He's having a great time mostly.

• Maxim was a npc and optional boss fight! He was in the library, enforced its rules, etc. he just there, he has mechanical bugs as library assistants. He was well loved by the fandom, by his designer, by his two voice actors, by the writers, etc. he did willingly make himself this, but some of the negative effects weren't intentional, and he did not do it for mentally healthy reasons.

• the old crew are explorers and MR-SN dies at a certain time in the game unless you do a bunch of a side quests and explore a lot of places first. It was a meme bc most people don't do that or even talk to them enough to care, so learning about it every playthrough became just funny. VR-LA joins them after saving the world!

Anyway none of that matters bc this is just going to be about VR-LA and Maxim in the library. Writing time

CW repeated mention of blood and injury

VR-LA had a very specific routine each time he returned to the library. He cleaned off his boots outside, ensuring he brought in as little mud as possible from dragging himself through the desolate wilds around it. He stepped inside and removed his outer coat in the entryway, folding it and placing it into his bag, attempting to look presentable. He made sure any of his louder items were tucked away so any clanking, clicking, ticking, or chiming was kept to a minimum. Each step so he wouldn't break any of the rules of the library.

Today though, he couldn't. Snow was piling up outside the door, his sides aching from wounds that potions made harmless, his outer coat stuck to his vest from dried blood, his legs feeling like they may give out from lack of break and hours of movement. He stumbled to the first door, pressing his hand against the knocker which sat at the center, made to be in the shape of the same sort of monster as the library's protector. After a second, the ring within the mouth of the decoration knocked against the door on its own, and VR-LA heard a subtle click. Hopefully Maxim wouldn't mind VR-LA resting in only the entryway before he straightened up, VR-LA wasn't sure if he could handle that fight in this state.

VR-LA pulled the door open, immediately feeling a rush of warm air from within. He hurried into the entryway, pulling the door shut behind him. He sat on the floor, pulling his backpack off his shoulder. The game always made travelling like that seem so easy.

There was buzzing from above him, most likely one of the assistants coming to examine the guest. VR-LA rather hoped Maxim would be too busy to greet him immediately, even if that was unlikely. He leaned his head back against the wall, squinting up at the large mechanical bee. It turned away, going through a hexagon passageway built too high up the wall for a human to ever go through and deeper into the library.

VR-LA took a deep breath, his eyes feeling heavy from exhaustion. If he stayed leaning back like this, he probably wouldn't be able to stay awake. He pushed himself to sit up straighter, focusing on his coat and vest first. He wouldn't be able to remove them separately in their current state, so his vest would have to be unbuttoned first. He was lucky the blood wasn't his own or the shirt would have had to go too.

There was a loud slam of the door at the other end of the entryway, startling VR-LA right as his cold hands managed to get through the first button. And he was quickly up in the air, teeth holding onto the back of his coat. "VR-LA." Maxim growled. Today's the day. Today's the day Maxim throws VR-LA out forever. Maxim was carrying him into the library as he spoke in a rather muffled manner. "I have potions within my nest. Once your injuries are dealt with, we will discuss the cause-"

Oh! "I had a potion for them an hour ago, this blood isn't mine." VR-LA replied awkwardly.

"So you had been injured?"

"Yes?"

"Then it is a requirement you rest." Maxim dropped VR-LA onto a random couch, one far too tiny for the monster to put himself on, given he was almost as large as the elephants of VR-LA's original world. His sat on the ground in front of VR-LA, using his front paws to adjust VR-LA surprisingly nimbly, like he was more of a doll than a person, before VR-LA himself even got the chance to. Large claws were unbuttoning his vest more nimbly than his own could've, Maxim squinting to get the good look he needed. "How long were you in the cold while dressed like this?" Maxim asked, the beans of his paws briefly brushing against VR-LA's side as he tried to check under the vest to confirm VR-LA's words.

"Most of today?"

"It is nearly night and that is not nearly enough for the snow. The fabric is too thin." And with that, Maxim draped a wing over VR-LA. Soft feathers brushed against his face and sides, the rich coppers and browns of them glittering slightly in the light. "It will do your journey no good to die of cold."

[kix-mm]

Warning, semi spicy 18+

An unusually big succubus was trying to chase after this scrawny human in order to try and save it, the wold they were in made little to no sense, except that they seemed to be on a ruined planet? The gravity was wack, and it was below freezing temperatures in certain areas.

The human would be hiding behind some rubble or a pillar, and the succubus would try to coax it out of hiding, saying things like, "It's okay, I won't hurt you" "come out, its safe" and "please don't go" but it was only a matter of time before the human accidentally gave their position away...

When the human awakens they find themselves in what was presumably a makeshift shelter and they see the succubus awkwardly trying to cover themselves up in order to seem less inappropriate (they do this a lot throughout the dream) but because they are such an awkward size they can only press a blanket against themselves which at least covers the front.

The human tries to leave, but when they reach the front door, they see the snowstorm outside. Knowing that it was fatal to leave the human begrudgingly stayed. They keep asking what the demon wants and why they brought him here, and the succubus gets really sad and embarrassed. Succubi has to feed off human lust, they usually just took it whenever they got the chance to, but more than anything, this one just didnt want to be lonely anymore and thought that saving the human meant that they could live together and keep each other company.

They notice that the human doesn't dare look at them, only eating whenever they have to and sleep throughout the day. It didn't help that the succubus took up most of the bed they shared and always ended up clinging to the human. What made matters worse was the demons anatomy.

They got excited really easily and were deeply ashamed of it, constantly trying to hide themselves to make the human feel a little safer... while the human tried to keep distance between them to ensure they weren't going to be assaulted...

The succubus would try to make conversation with the human, talking about whatever they found interesting about the human world, they expressed how they wish they could fit into human clothes and how they'd want to wear the softest sweater... but the human wasn't buying it.

"You must be getting really hungry by now" is something he'd say to silence the demon, he could tell they were trying to get him to lower his guard, probably so he would become easy pray. But what he didn't expect was for the demon to one day suddenly agree that they were starving and needed a favor... a kiss. Nothing more, just a simple kiss.

They couldn't quite believe it would only be a kiss, so he denied their request, but the next day, the succubus requested it again, and the day after that, and the dat thereafter. Each time, it became more pleading and desperate till one morning, the human was suddenly cornered by the demon, and they made their plea one last time... the human was too afraid of what could happen if they rejected the succubus again, so they gave permission.

The succubus was over the moon and pulled the human into a deep kiss, rocking his hips beneath the humans lap and letting their hands explore, the human immediately pulled back "h-hey!" And the succubus turned red and laughed in shame "sorry sorry! I got a little excited, I'll keep it to just a kiss, I promise"

The human didn't even get a chance to scold them as their lips met once more, the kiss was gentle, yet there was still the deep feeling of need, the two held hands as the human slowly let themselves slip into the moment...

[backofthebookshelf]

Another thing I find fascinating about Beholding specifically is - the pursuit of knowledge is not an inherently unhealthy or exploitative way to manage your relationships with the world! It *can* be, sure - but where is the line? Where does "I need to know what that was so it never happens to me again" turn into "I need you to relive the worst thing that ever happened to you so I can feel safe"? Where does it cross the line? Is it when you ask someone else about their experience? When you encourage someone who's reluctant to talk? Obviously at some point Jon developed an unhealthy relationship with the statements, but was that when he started intentionally seeking out live statements? When he got weak and shaky without them? When he realized he knew which statements were real? When he joined the Magnus Institute because even though Mr Spider was the only supernatural encounter he'd had in his life he still couldn't let it go?

Slippery slope is a logical fallacy because it's often used to connect things that have no inherent connection, but when it's tiny steps towards something that you can't see coming that's just... normalization. The Overton window shifting. Normal human adjustment to difficult circumstances.

Jon absolutely chose a lot of the steps that put him on the path to S4 and Scrutiny (his low point, I think, although Jordan Kennedy's domain is fighting for that spot). He didn't choose them knowing where they would lead, but most of us don't; I don't think Jonah did either, to be honest, I think he just was less unhappy with the results. But what's so fascinating to me is, absent the foreknowledge of the plot and the awareness that it's a horror tragedy story, it's impossible to say where he absolutely should have turned back before it was too late. Hell, even once he's fully tied to Beholding, it's impossible to say when he's definitely, absolutely causing more harm than doing good by attempting to understand and stop what's happening.

So yes, he was manipulated, and he chose it, and he didn't know it was dangerous until he did, and he didn't realize how harmful it was until he did, and he could have stopped but at such a cost that very few people can really argue it was a reasonable thing to expect anyone to do, but he didn't. There's a line there, somewhere, but it's not a clear one and there's no clear way to avoid getting there either.

That's why I love tragedy, I think. Because it's actually really common to find yourself, through no particular ill will on your part or anyone else's, in a situation of your own making where the only choices you have are between bad and worse. And that doesn't make you a terrible person or absolve you of blame; it doesn't mean you shouldn't try to invent better choices or make sure the same thing doesn't happen again, but it doesn't mean it's possible to do anything that won't make you hate yourself a little. That, as Picard says, is not failure. It's life.

readings of the podcast which try to frame jon as having been tragically manipulated and forced through every decision by elias are of no interest to me. because it's not true, is it. when elias tells him in mag 92 "you always chose to see," he's being cruel, yes. victim blaming him, even. but to completely disregard it as an attempt at manipulation would be a mistake. much of the podcast is about exploiting people's trauma. as i've said before, jon's role as head archivist, back when it was still presented as a mundane office job to the audiences, and he hadn't developed any beholding powers yet, involved filing away statement givers' trauma without offering help of any kind. the institute subsists on this form of exploitation, in a literal sense obviously, because it's a temple to the eye. but even if you take that reveal away, it's also true in simply an administrative sense in season one. and jon used to ruthlessly dismiss every single statement giver with as much apathy as he could muster (while knowing that if a statement doesn't record digitally, then it's the truth), and note that faking skepticism was a form of coping mechanism for him, it was the choice between making statement givers feel small or making himself feel vulnerable—and is this not simply the bureaucratic version of what he does later as a supernatural avatar of the beholding, vampirically feeding on people's terror to stay alive or risk being consumed by the eye?

(Season 3) MAG 117 - "Testament" // (Season 4) MAG 142 - "Scrutiny"

of course, i'm not saying he bought it on himself, that he deserved to be put in an impossible situation later for being an arse in season one. jon too, has had his trauma exploited in the form of a guest for mr spider, an experience which eventually led him to the magnus institute where he would help fulfill the web's designs. so, in the grand scheme of things everyone was puppeteered by forces beyond their control, but would you excuse jonah for eveything he's ever done because of it? then why must jon be rendered completely non-agentic? yes, elias manipulated him, but he has never had to straight up coerce jon into anything. jon's just always done what's been expected of him. because they're alike. their shared desire for knowledge originates from fear. jon always chose to see because something had hurt him once and he needed answers, and we can assume jonah chose the beholding because it was the only entity which would expose him to information on all the other fears. knowledge is a means of survival for both of them, an inclination which later manifests literally as they become avatars who must subsist on terror. it all really comes down to letting yourself be exploited or exploiting someone else to escape that fate (you don't escape, not really, nobody does in the podcast), and jon did choose (with as much agency he could've possibly had in a story like this). the difference between them being that elias feels no remorse for his choice, but jon's character is defined by the enormous guilt he feels about the things he has done and what he must do to continue living, until he doesn't.

[deer-with-a-stick]

The more time I spend explaining Tolkien lore to my brother the more I realize that Tolkien was just batshit insane

[chloecherrysip]

breaking news: local woman goes to the movie theater and somehow DOESN'T see the mario movie again for the millionth time? who IS she??????

[cake-bread]

If you could go back, would you rather have never talked to him to start or you still would talk to him him even if you knew it lead right back to where you are now?

I have 11 years dreams, scenarios, mental projections, imaginery pathways, alternative universes, stories, wishes, nightmares, opinions of others and my own.

But at no point did I let myself regret meeting him.

[neverendingford]

.

[churipu]

YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

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