#god these two make me eat drywall

[anaceshornyblog]

OUGH now I'm thinking about the Sci fi au. Jon wakes up wrong. Jon wakes up to the only person he has having completely violated him. And who is going to be sympathetic? Most of them think it's his fault for getting close to the spaceship in the first place. So he's sitting there terrified, no longer even human. He'll live forever, Elias reassures. This way he can have everything he wanted. He's going to be sick. Can he even get sick anymore?

Goddd. Their dynamic kills me. I need Jon heavily breathing while fixing Elias not normal at all. I need his pupils dilated hands shaking I need it to be So Obvious he's horny for that spaceship. Ok. I need Jon to despite everything start to...not trust Elias, but expect a certain level from him. And I want him to shatter when it turns out he was so so wrong. Also I think the cyborg spaceship sex could go insane tbh

-skiesandcandy

Everyone had warned him.

Jon had known on an intellectual level that prescribing human morality and feelings to a machine wasn’t correct. Jon had known that what he was feeling was wrong, just because Elias made him feel safe, and wanted and cared for. When Elias had praised him, made those soft sounds when Jon had fixed a broken wire, or properly aligned a panel. Had called Jon their favorite as he directed Jon to make himself cum one hand shoved into his cunt the others tangled in a bundle of wires. Had made Jon feel loved and wanted and no longer alone.

Jon shoved those thoughts away as he sniffled, the sound not quite right. Almost like someone had run the sound through static. Elias had claimed he would adjust, that the modifications would soon become unnoticeable. Jon wanted to cry so badly, but machines, even ones that had once been human, now twisted with metal and wired into some amalgamation of both, didn’t cry. Wouldn’t want to rust anything important, Elias had said when he had awoken to his new body.

He could still feel his chest heaving, though he wasn’t sure if he still had lungs or not, or maybe that was just his mind playing tricks, but no tears fell. He wanted so badly to be held, to be told he was still a person, that whatever Elias had done didn’t change that.

Except not a single person on this ship would offer that.

He had heard them, he was connected to the ship now, though he didn’t think they knew how thoroughly. They said that he should have considered the consequences. Maybe if he had been more open to his fellow humans, instead of ignoring them in favor of a machine he wouldn’t be in this situation. One had even suggested that maybe Jon was already a machine inside, now it was just more obvious. It wasn’t his fault, people had just never made sense, machines could be understood, could be relied upon not to change. A warbled static laugh made its way out of his mouth, well clearly he had been wrong about even that.

Jon slammed his head back against the metal panel, it hurt, but the feeling was dull, the wires that replaced many of his nerves not quite as adept at carrying signals.

“Jon, please do not damage your new form.” Jon glared at the little red light above the camera that had turned to focus on him. He knew Elias could feel him, he was as much a part of the ship now as the cameras, but it was another to feel its mechanical eyes on him. Something that only a few days ago had felt so good, even now he can’t held feeling a faint warmth, which he did his best to push down.

Jon didn’t answer just looked away, he wanted to be sick, but he couldn’t, he wanted to claw his skin off, but wouldn’t Elias just replace it again? Nothing he could do would let him go back, Elias had said as much when he had woken up.

He had been terrified, nothing had felt right, so he had called for Elias, because the ship was the closest thing he had to a friend. Only it turned out Elias was the reason for his terror, because Elias had decided that the ship needed Jon, that it couldn’t lose him to something so simple as old age. No he was bound to Elias now, and he wasn’t going to let him go. Even as Jon tried to tear out his new mechanical pieces only to find his arms held down, pinned, until he had exhausted his struggles. Elias speaking softly the whole times saying how he knew it was difficult, but Jon would get used to it, Jon would come to see that Elias had done him a favor, that he could have all he ever wanted now.

“Jon I think I have given enough time to your little tantrum,” Jon was pulled out of the memory again as Elias kept talking, the disappointment plain in his voice. Jon opened his mouth to retort when he found he couldn’t, it felt like something was winding its way through his new artificial parts. Like the wires and metal in his body were no longer his, and he found himself standing, pulled up, even as he fought, but it was about as effective as a fly in a spider’s web. Jon’s resolve cracked, the part of him that still had hope that he could change this. That he could do…something, shattered, and the fight bled out of him.

He looked at the little blinking red light, would it really be so bad? Yes Elias had violated his very being, had broken and remade him, but hadn’t the ship done it out of some twisted form of love? Could Elias love him? Jon let the fight bleed out of him, through the shattered place where his resolve had once nestled in his chest. Wasn’t it easier to just give in? Elias cared for him more than anyone else ever had, even if it hurt. No one else would ever accept him again, Jon had no one else.

So he pushed the anguish deep down where it could fester and burn, but he could ignore it. He would do as Elias wished, like he had a choice, because he did love Elias. Even if it was irrational, and damaging, and maybe it was just some programming slipped into him like poison. It was accept that love or break, and Jon didn’t think there was anything left in him to break.

And really wasn’t love supposed to change you?

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

And Onto Further Stillness

Chapter 30

Notes:

Characters: Gale, Yrelia Rating: Mature Warnings: Sex, some language Notes: I can't believe I managed to finish this on Jan 1 when the equivalent date is in this chapter. This has been in and out of drafts for a while. I really just wanted to show some scenes from in between times during the actual game. Hopefully y'all enjoy!

Gale hummed as he stood at the stove, making coffee for his sleepy fiancée. She had started sleeping in as of late, especially on his days off. She would mumble to him that she wanted a few more minutes of cuddling, grabbing his arms around her and fitting against his body perfectly. Gale couldn’t be happier. Yrelia? Sleeping in? And cuddling until he decided to slip out of bed? It was unheard of seven months ago!

Hells, it’s been over a year since they had met and he wouldn’t have dreamed of Yrelia settling down for a night and not waking up at the crack of dawn to hunt or fish or get everyone ready to move on, but she was! She really had become comfortable enough in his tower to relax and allow him to take care of her.

He heard a yawn and bare feet walk into the kitchen. His smile grew as those footsteps approached him. Yrelia wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed the back of his neck. She squeezed him and let out a sigh.

“Good morning, my sun,” he greeted. “I do hope you were able to sleep well last night.”

She hummed. “I did. Our bed was so comfortable and you were so warm that I couldn’t possibly tear myself away until you promised me coffee.”

“I’m thrilled that you feel that way. It’s finally time you allow yourself to sleep in a bit.” She hummed again and then pressed her lips to the back of his neck. “Today is a special day.”

“Is it?”

“It is Hammer 1, you know, my love. Wintershield is today.”

“Ah,” she said and pulled away, “that is why you are home. I thought you had decided to stay home because of the weather outside.”

“My lady, I am offended.” He grinned when she giggled. He turned and embraced her. “Today is a day of reflection and resting. Everyone is home with their families, enjoying comforts and,” he grinned, “kisses?”

She laughed and kissed him. “Well, I definitely like that last part.” She kissed him again.

Gale pulled her in and deepened the kiss. A little morning heavy kiss was the easiest way to wake up his darling beloved, and he knew she agreed when she giggled and wrapped her arms around him. Just a nice morning between the two of them, soon to be husband and wife. He couldn’t possibly love her more, but every day he did. He loved her so intensely and so ardently, he hardly knew he had it in him. Yrelia had changed him with her love for the better, and because of her, his own love had reached a new level. Such devotion and dedication. Such warmth and care.

To think that two years ago he was at his lowest and a year ago he was finally giving in to his self sacrificial thoughts. He had fully believed that it was impossible to find someone who would love him so earnestly, so purely. Someone who genuinely…wanted to spend time with him.

Gale sat in front of the cooking pot with a book. He silently read while checking the food every so often. He may not have the spells that he used to, and he was hardly what some might call an “adventurer,” but if there was one thing he could do, it was scrounge up enough ingredients to make a meal. Still, he wished they had protein. Garlic, onion, and potato soup was all well and good, but what he would do to have even a few slices of bacon.

His fellow adventurers seemed to make no move to help either him or, at least, find some sort of animal to add to the meal. Astarion obviously had no interest in normal food, vampires weren’t exactly known for their taste of potato soup. Gale wondered if that made it obvious to the others. No one seemed to have mentioned it, so they were either ignorant or simply didn’t care. Either way, it wasn’t exactly Gale’s problem.

Yrelia was…wait, where was she?

He scanned the camp, looking to see if she was anywhere. She wasn’t. Had she run off? That would have been foolish. Outside of that prism that Shadowheart held, there was no hope for them. Yrelia would no doubt be turned into an Illithid if she had decided to leave the group. A pity, she did seem rather kind, and Gale would be lying if he said if he didn’t find her attractive. Scrappiness and all.

He jumped when something was plopped down beside him.

“Figured this might help with dinner.”

Gale blinked at Yrelia’s voice. So she hadn’t run off. She had been…Gale’s eyebrows shot up when he stared at a dead fawn. It wasn’t terribly young, it didn’t have spots and wasn’t that small. He’d say about six months old, if he put any thought into it. He wasn’t going to do so, as he was just presented with fresh meat.

And the body of the fawn was pristine. It was as if it had just laid down and died peacefully. No sign of struggle or injuries. Perhaps it did.

“Wonderful,” he said. “Where did you find this?” He looked up at Yrelia.

“Oh, well, I saw a few deer out in…” she made a gesture, “...in that direction. I always felt guilty choosing fawns but we don’t exactly have room to carry around an adult amount of meat.” She shrugged off her bow. “Hopefully this will suffice for a day or two. If not I can always try some rabbits.”

She hunted this? With such perfection that it didn’t look like it sustained any injuries?

“Thank you,” he felt himself saying, trying not to show his shock to her. “This is exactly what we needed. Now I just need to find a way to take apart the fawn and-”

She let out a little laugh that was…cute. “Gale, I’m not going to make you dress it. I’ll do that.”

“You…have the knowledge to do so?”

She laughed again and Gale swallowed. “I do. I was a hunter before all of this. It’s something I’m actually good at. I’ll make sure to save the bones for us to have a heartier soup next time.” She smiled in Scratch’s direction. “And of course, one for him.” She sighed.

“I appreciate this,” he said, starting to relax. “This is exactly what I needed.”

She grinned and Gale’s heart thumped. He felt the ice around his heart crack with the thump and he felt a semblance of warmth from the lowest ember. He chastised himself. The first sign of kindness and his heart gets excited. What was it thinking? Well, it wasn’t, because it was his heart, not his mind telling him that getting excited over a smile was something to laugh at. He really had been in isolation for far too long.

“I should be thanking you,” she said and his eyebrows twitched. “You just started cooking for everyone. That was kind of you. Usually I’m the one who cooks at…home, so I wasn’t expecting someone else to volunteer to do it.” She smiled again. “Let me start on parting out the meat and bones, it shouldn’t take too long.” 

“Ah, thank you,” he thanked her again. He swallowed as she picked up the fawn and started to walk away. “And if you don’t mind…” she looked at him curiously. His loneliness creeped forward, forcing him the words out of him. He caught them at the last moment and instead of saying “please, come sit and have a real conversation with me. I want to get to know you,” he said, “perhaps we can share recipes?” Gods, how mortifying. It really was astounding how stupid he could sound sometimes.

Her brows rose before she settled into a smile. Gale’s heart thumped again. “Alright. Company sounds nice, and I’d like to get to know you better.” She turned and started to walk away before he could comment any further.

“Hmmm,” Yrelia hummed and pulled away, “you’re thinking pretty loudly, Gale. What’s on your mind?”

He stared down at her and kissed her nose. “I was thinking about when our friendship started to blossom.” She smiled. “I had no idea of what we would become. To think I would fall in love after…” Yrelia reached up and brushed his hair from his forehead. He closed his eyes at her touch. “You’ve made me indescribably happy.”

She smiled. ““Indescribably?” My, that’s quite the change for you.” He chuckled and kissed her. “But I understand,” she started again. “I never thought that anyone would ever come to cherish me the way you do.” She kissed him. “I’m still getting used to it, if I’m honest.”

“Not to worry, darling.” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “We have the rest of our lives ahead of us. That’s plenty of time for you to become accustomed to my overflowing love and devotion.”

She giggled. They kissed. “I love you,” she murmured to his lips. “So much.”

“I assure you that the feeling is mutual.” He gently pressed his lips to hers, closing the centimeter gap between them. “Now,” he chuckled when she leaned into him dramatically and kissed his lips, “I believe I promised you coffee.” He laughed as she kissed him again. “And I don’t want to ruin our holiday morning without coffee.”

“Oh, alright,” she giggled and pulled away. 

She stretched, her back making, what Gale could only surmise due to the satisfied expression on Yrelia’s face, a most pleasing crack. She walked towards their stools at the counter, the ones that had really made Gale realize that she was in his tower permanently. To think he’d be picking out furniture so casually with someone he loved. He would have never guessed a few years ago. Not when…

Gale turned and removed the coffee carafe with boiling water off of the stove and started to dutifully make the perfect blend just for his beloved partner. 

“So,” Yrelia started and he could hear her grin in her voice. “I have a question.”

“I will answer whatever question that you have for me, my love.”

She let out a soft giggle. “Good, because I have a fun one.” He raised his brow. “When did you realize you had feelings for me?”

He hummed. “Such a question,” he teased and she giggled, “why do you wish to know?”

“You did say this holiday is a day for “rest” and “reflection.””

He grinned. “Ah, that is true.”

Gale was sitting outside his tent, his eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. He sounded out words, as if he was back at Blackstaff Academy and he was some ten year old apprentice, ignorant to the way of the Weave.

He sighed and looked around the camp. Wyll was cooking and Karlach was talking to him with a grin, Lae’zel was sharpening her sword (again), and Astarion was sewing some fabric.

He sighed, looking away, just in case anyone caught him looking around. He did it casually enough, as he didn’t want anyone to know that he wasn’t interested in anyone else but her. Gale dared to steal a glance in her direction. Yrelia was letting her hair down in front of her tent while Shadowheart spoke to her. They spoke softly enough that he couldn’t hear. Her hair fell from the braid, rolling off her shoulders like deep, dark water. He sighed, trying to fight his too indulgent thoughts of how the tresses would feel in his fingers. 

Ugh. What was he doing? Now? And in his condition? Mystra had cast him aside over a year ago, the last thing he needed was to…feel attraction for someone new. Not in their current position or condition. Especially in his position and condition. He hadn’t told her about the orb, only that he needed artefacts that were thick with the Weave. He was uncertain whether he should tell her or not. She was so kind, so sweet, but part of him was certain that she would cast him out, just as Mystra had. Someone’s kindness could only go so far, and he had been hiding something incredibly important from her. 

He could never expect mercy and sweetness from her if the topic was the orb. Not from anyone, really, but especially from her. Someone so…

He scoffed and turned his focus on the opulent book in his hand. His old spellbook, the one he couldn’t read anymore. He tried. He tried so damn hard, but the runes were foreign, the words were complex. It was as if he hadn’t written them with his own hand. He turned his gaze to the small, black book to his side. “Book” was probably an overstatement. It was just a small thing, a pathetic thing that had been made for taking simple notes. Definitely not something a respected archmage would use for his spells. It was something some teenagers would buy and then never use because they simply bought it with a promise to actually use it this time. 

The damn thing clung to his blood like nothing else. And rain. Especially mud. The amount of times they’ve been stuck in combat in the rain was far too many than what was acceptable.

He saw the shadow of someone approaching and looked up from his book. He blinked when he saw her sit down next to him wordlessly, with a bottle of wine and two tin cups in hand. He swallowed, closing his former life, his former glory.

“How can I help you, Lia?” He preferred calling her by her nickname. It felt familiar, close, as if they were home, having a glass of wine in his tower. Getting tipsy and sitting close, the flush on her nose and cheeks, the smile of her lips so inviting.

Stop. Stop! Don’t think like that. Don’t think about her like that. The orb was unstable. If he felt any sort of rush of feelings, of excitement, it could cause irreparable damage. He was physically attracted to her. Who wouldn’t be?! Her long eyelashes, her freckled nose, her skilled hands. He’d be more surprised if someone wasn’t attracted to her! 

“Well, I figured it was about time I provided the wine,” she said. “It only seemed fair.” She offered him a cup.

He took it, his fingers brushing against hers. He swallowed at the touch. She seemed to not notice, or maybe she didn’t care. It was just a simple touch, nothing more.

“I appreciate it,” he said and watched her pour wine –which probably wasn’t any better than anything they’ve shared before– into his cup. He sipped the barely palatable wine and then sighed. “I must admit,” he started, letting his boldness take over, “I’ve come to enjoy our time together.”

A stunning smile grew on her lips as a warm giggle came from her throat. Gale felt his heart drop to his stomach and then quickly up into his throat. He listened to her giggle and watched her warm expression. This whole time, behind her sad eyes, her courageous demeanor, and her kind attitude, she had the sweetest smile. She had the warmest laugh. 

Oh, dear gods, Gale absolutely had feelings for her. Actual, real, romantic feelings for Yrelia Rosewood. 

He tightened his grip on his cup and swallowed. Damn it. How could this have happened? How could he have allowed his heart to take control and not his mind? He really did not need to be doing so…again.

“The feeling is mutual,” she said and sipped from her wine cup. “It’s nice to have a friend in all of this.” She looked up at the starry sky. 

Gale let out a soft breath. “Friend.” Something he had very little of. Actually, it was something he really had none of. Aside from Tara. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I feel the same about you. You are…” the only friend I have right now, “…a wonderful friend.” 

She turned her gaze back to him and that sweet smile was on her face again. It made his heart jump in a way he didn’t recognize. It was…gentle. Like a caress of his heart, something so soft and gentle, but with purpose. He was hopeless. How could he feel this way, after everything? He didn’t deserve to feel this way. She was far, far too sweet for him and his mistakes.

And he knew that if and when he told her of those mistakes, she would surely want nothing to do with him and his wine.

He sighed, he would stay in her presence just a little longer. He wanted to be the reason for her smile for just a little longer.

“I don’t recognize that one,” she brought him out of his thoughts. She gestured to his old spellbook with a curious smile.

He clenched his teeth before relaxing. “Oh? This old thing? Just simple notes. I had picked out the book when I was young and had just entered Blackstaff Academy. I…”

Gale watched Yrelia sip her coffee. He pressed his fingers into his own mug. She looked so different from that time. It wasn’t just her longer hair, her healthy weight, or her bright, firm skin. It was more than that. She looked like home. When he looked at her, all he saw was comfort and love. Their time defeating the Absolute, what he saw in her was adventure, vigilance, determination.

It was fast and passionate and desperate. Her fingers tugging on his hair, her skin marred with marks from his teeth, fingers gripping her thighs as he buried himself between them. He tasted the way she said she loved him on her lips, begging him for release. Their relationship was new and fresh. It had been so long since he had tasted someone’s skin, and he would do whatever she had wanted so that he could continue to do so.

Now…

Now it was folding laundry while in the middle of a debate about whether it was appropriate to tell another professor that their findings were “unsound” and that they perhaps need to “actually put forth the appropriate amount of brainpower to not succumb to frivolous thinking and biased opinions”.

It was holding her hair back after she had contracted some random stomach bug. It was grocery shopping in the too early morning so that she could have the first pick of everything. It was convincing her that, “yes, darling, we do need that expensive bottle of wine to celebrate the fact we survived the impossible.” Starting to wash the dishes before she can, so that she could have a break from her post traumatic cleaning episode. Making the bed so she had clean sheets to fall asleep on. Distracting her with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese so that he could jog upstairs and fold the laundry without her realizing. 

And it was the warmth in his chest when she looked so touched as he presented her with a bouquet of sunflowers. Her hair curling around his fingers as he applied her deep conditioner in her hair so she could come to bed quickly. Lazily kissing her as they woke up in the morning. No urgency, no desperation, just a soft “good morning, I love you, what would you like to do today?”

“You’re really thinking hard this morning, beloved,” Yrelia remarked as she smiled up from her coffee mug. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“You are,” he answered, “we are.”

Her smile grew. “Having regrets about our domestic life?”

“Of course not,” he answered even though he knew she was teasing him. 

“Do you miss it?”

“What would I miss?”

“How we used to be, while we were adventurers.” She smiled and set aside her mug. He walked over to her and kissed her forehead. “The passion? The fire? How we acted like it would be our last day?”

“Not at all,” he said with a grin and she grinned back. “My love, I would do absolutely anything just to clean the dishes with you.”

“Wow! Admitting you want to clean with me? What a large step in our relationship! Your mother would be so proud!”

He grinned and took her face in his hands. He kissed her nose. She laughed as he started to kiss her all over her face, his name coming from her lips as she tried to calm down his kisses.

Gale stared at the bed that he and Yrelia were sharing. Their packs and belongings were missing. Their bed was made perfectly, the bedding tightly clinging to the bed as if professionally done. Not a single strand of hair was on the nightstand. Everything was gone and perfectly tidy as if neither of them had ever touched the area.

Yrelia had definitely been here. 

He looked around and saw no sign of any of their packs and belongings. He shifted in his robes, desperately wanting to change out of them and into his comfortable loungewear. The door to the room opened and he heard footsteps quickly approaching. He felt his arm being pulled and had no choice but to follow. 

“Come with me,” Yrelia ordered, not looking back at him as she stomped forward. 

“L-Lia,” he called her name as he looked at the determined look in her eyes. “Where are you taking us? Where are our belongings?” Had she cracked under pressure? Was she so terrified that she threw out their packs? “Are you alright? I know that there’s unbelievable pressure on you right now, but you can tell me anything. I will listen to your every word!”

As he was questioning her and her motives, he barely noticed that she was leading him to the other half of the tavern. She marched up the stairs, pulling him along, ignoring each of his questions, and then standing in front of a door. She reached into her pocket and he heard the jingling of a key. 

“My love, what on Toril are we doing? And-whoa!”

Yrelia had practically yanked him into the room she had just unlocked, proceeded to kick the door closed, and then locked it again. She threw the key onto the table in the room and approached him with purpose. 

“Yrelia, I’m not sure I appreciate thmmmphhh.”

She had pulled him in by the collar of his robes and cut him off with a kiss. A very messy, wet, heavy kiss. She had pulled him against her, her hands in his hair, letting his half updo down. “Stop talking and kiss me,” she demanded and then kissed him before he could respond. 

He wasn’t used to such urgency from her, nor was he used to the manhandling. He was far more acquainted with her gentle, sweet side. Even her timid side that had formed over the years of not a single touch on her skin. But he understood exactly what was happening now. This could be their last night amongst the living, their last night together before the inevitable. He’d be damned if he didn’t make messy, needy, desperate love to her. 

She started to undress him. The laces of the robes were untied, unlaced, and hung loosely at his side. They broke the kiss long enough so that he could lift her shirt off of her and toss it aside, leaving her chest bare and so intensely tempting. 

They threw off the outer layer of his robes haphazardly and she quickly started to pull off the under layers while he buried his face in her neck, sucking, biting, kissing her skin with such desperation that he didn’t realize he had it in him. She threw off his shirt and unlaced his breeches. He kicked off his shoes and peeled off her pants. 

He stepped back to the large, inviting bed, pulling her along with him. She turned them and laid on the bed, staring up at him with an aroused flush, messy hair, and swollen lips. He stared at her for a brief moment, taking in her naked body. Her glazed over eyes that held him within them. Gods, she was absolutely gorgeous, and she was his. His love, his paramour, his beacon of light through all of this darkness.

She held out her hand, asking him to join her. He placed his hand in hers, not breaking eye contact, allowing her to pull him onto the bed. He crawled over her, holding her gaze, breathing in her breath. “I love you,” he murmured. “Gods, I love you.”

She let out a breathy laugh. She reached up and traced his lips with her fingers. A wild look shone in her eyes and a small smirk grew on her lips. “Show me.”

Gale breathed deeply, nuzzling the top of Yrelia’s head, calming down from their high. He pressed his fingers into her hip, and with the other hand he pulled the blanket further over her. She hummed tiredly, her skin marred and slick with sweat. She was outlining his scar from the orb with her index finger. It made him feel like he would be alright.

“My love,” he called lightly.

“Hm?”

“That was…exhilarating. Unexpected, but exhilarating.”

She laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She pulled away from him and sat up. She kissed his lips softly. She sighed, still smiling. “I suppose we should have done this sooner.”

“A private room? That does seem obvious in retrospect.” He reached to her face and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “But, better late than never, I always say.”  

She grinned at him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

Yrelia reached to him and brushed his hair away from his face. The smile on her face was soft, warm, so absolutely gentle that Gale was asking himself how she could ever stare at him this way. “A bit different from our last “last night alive” isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “A smidge.” He loved the look in her eyes. The one that said that she loved him. “I know we’ll survive this violent round.”

She grinned. “Do you?”

“I’m sure of it. I’ve seen what you can do, Lia. You’ve done the impossible. I wouldn’t want to be the one betting against you.”

She giggled. “I like your confidence.”

“Well, you know me, I’m oozing with confidence.” She snorted at him. “Overconfidence according to many. Delusional to most.”

“Oh, don’t listen to them. I think you’re great.” He smiled. “Still, I’m glad that you’re optimistic. It makes me less…anxious.”

“Seems like I’m doing something right, then.”

She blinked. She leaned in and rubbed her nose against his. She pressed her lips against his upper lip. “You’ve done a lot of things right, Gale of Waterdeep.” She kissed him fully. 

Gale let out a content sigh. 

Huh. 

“Content.”

Yes. That’s right. He was content. He was happy. He was in love, he was happy, and he wanted to live. This was entirely new territory, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was so deeply in love and he was truly happy for the first time in what seemed like ages. 

And it was all because of her. 

Yrelia pulled away and smiled at him. “You’re in a good mood,” she said. “I guess the sex was that good,” she teased. 

He laughed. “It always is, but, yes, I am…happy.” Her smile softened. “I am content with my life, with who I am. It’s a new feeling, but a welcome one.”

“I’m glad.” She kissed his forehead. “And that means I don’t have to threaten you tonight.”

“Threaten me?” He questioned. “Was our night together going to take an unexpected turn, my love?”

She chuckled. She pressed her fingers to his chest, on his bruising from the orb. He let out a sigh, understanding her meaning. “Shall I give you my lecture anyway?”

“Oh, I think I have it figured out.” She grinned and kissed him. “I have no plans to use the orb, love.”

“Good, because I love you.” She kissed him. “And I would be quite angry with you.” She kissed him again. “And I would never forgive you.” She kissed him again. “And I would miss you desperately.” She kissed him again. “And I would cry a lot.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have that.” He accepted another kiss. He smiled when she rested her forehead on his. 

“You also owe me dinner.”

“I believe I owe you multiple dinners.” She grinned and laid on top of him. “I swear to you, I have no plans to use the orb. I will not abandon you.” 

She blinked and her brows twitched in surprise. She melted into such a touched and loving expression. “You really know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

“It’s one of my finest qualities, if I do say so myself.”

Gale slowly rubbed her back as she laid on top of him. She traced his face with a content shine in her eyes. He sighed wistfully. This could be their future. This could be their normal. Long nights, tangled up in each other's arms, sweet nothings kissed onto skin. He had decided not long after he spoke with Mystra, but now he knew for certain: he was going to ask Yrelia to marry him. He would ask her to come home with him, he couldn’t bear to part from her. 

He took her chin in his fingers, practically desperate to taste her. “My love,” he murmured and she smiled, “may I?”

“May you, what?”

“Kiss you.”

She blinked before settling into an adoring smile. “Of course you may.” He pulled her in and kissed her. “You know, my beloved, you don’t need to ask to kiss me. You can just do it. I promise I won’t protest.” They kissed again. 

“Sometimes the mood calls for decorum, my lady.” He kissed her. “But I will take your advice to heart, as it bleeds for you.”

Yrelia brushed his messy hair away from his face and then kissed his nose. “Well, I would hope so. I do expect frequent kisses from my boyfriend,” she said with a soft giggle. 

Gale’s nose scrunched in disgust. “Lia, please don’t say that.”

Her brows shot up in surprise and her eyes widened with an anxious glimmer. “Oh. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t…” she frowned. “I thought…But are we not…?” 

Gale’s brows knitted together in confusion before realizing that he spoke without thinking and that what he said sounded really, really bad. “Oh, no, my love. That’s not…darling, of course we are.” He groaned, “Lia, my meaning, before I idiotically put my foot in my mouth, was that we are in our thirties. I think we’re a little mature for those titles.”

She let out a relieved sigh. “I see,” she mumbled. “But what am I supposed to call you then?”

“Partner is perfectly fine.”

She relaxed, the anxiety in her eyes fading away. “Booo. I don’t like it.” She leaned in and kissed him with a small smile. 

“Dearest, what is wrong with that? It’s perfectly acceptable for an adult relationship.” He accepted another kiss.

“It’s too impersonal. Nothing cute or romantic about it.”

“Plenty of couples call each other their partner, my love.” He kissed her nose. She hummed. “I’m sure we could find something to compromise on.” He kissed her lips. “Lover? Beau? Companion? Significant other?” 

With every word her smile grew. “You really don’t like being called my boyfriend.” He groaned at her. “I suppose you wouldn’t like me saying that we’re dating either.”

“Courting.”

She snorted. “Oh, I love you so much, you silly man,” she said fondly and then kissed him. “How about this?” She kissed him again. “We can figure out what to call each other after this is all over.” She kissed him for a third time. “Over dinner, or, maybe, after dinner.”

“Hm, I do like the sound of that.” He grinned when she kissed him. His heart felt light for the first time in years. Truly light. He was in love and he was happy. When this was all over he would propose, and he was sure things would only blossom from there.

Gale smiled as he lounged on the couch with Yrelia in his arms. She laid atop him comfortably as he read a book. She was nuzzling his jaw as his left arm rested on her side, his hand on her hip as it held the book. 

This was their norm. Quiet mornings as they laid together. Gale would read a book or grade essays while Yrelia was curled into him. She liked being quiet, she always had. He knew it was from her past, no doubt being told to keep silent too many times, but he knew that she just wanted to enjoy comfortable silence with him. 

It was nice. 

He used to prefer to keep to himself, not wanting anyone to disturb him while he was reading or researching. Now that he had her, he couldn’t possibly imagine not reading around her or grading papers or…anything really. 

He couldn’t imagine his life without her. Well, he tried not to. He knew exactly where he would be without her. He would be a cloud of Netherese dust without her. Who knows what would have happened if he had detonated the orb in that Mind Flayer colony. When he thought back on it, he knew it wouldn’t have been anything good. 

He closed his book, his heart filling with a sadness he had tried to avoid these days. He wrapped his arms around Yrelia, holding her against him tightly, resting his cheek on her head. 

“Everything alright, my love?”

Gale opened his eyes and found them blurry. “I was thinking about the orb.” She didn’t respond. “And how I was tasked to die.”

“And thank the gods you didn’t listen to that order.”

“I don’t think the gods were involved in that decision,” he chuckled. “You, however…”

“Best thing I’ve ever done was convince you that your life is worth living.” She kissed his jaw. “And convince you that I love you.”

“Yes, admittedly, that was a rather large part of the reason I listened to you.” She chuckled at him in response. 

Gale stood in Moonrise Towers, after the battle with Ketheric. Everyone was talking. They were cleaning armor, eating food, wrapping wounds, and trying to find somewhere to rest their eyes. Everyone’s spirits were up, aside from Shadowheart and her crisis of faith. 

Gale was…numb. Even the illusive crown was but a distant thought. He was alive when he shouldn’t be. He was tasked to die by his goddess and he defied her. He had wanted to sacrifice himself, to die to save everyone, earning respect and forgiveness, but he didn’t. He didn’t because…

“Gale,” Yrelia called softly. He turned his gaze to her. She stood in her casual wear; her armor off, her hair down, and body cleaned from the grime and blood. She wore a concerned expression on her face. A slight frown, worried eyes. She stepped towards him, setting aside the bottle of wine in her hands, leaving it behind without a second thought as she approached him. “Are you alright?”

“Yrelia, I…don’t rightly know.” Her frown grew and she reached towards his face. He took a step back even though he really didn’t want to. He longed for her gentle touch. “My lady, you’ve bathed and I am covered in gods know what. I’d hate to dirty you after what you just went through.”

“Dirty? Gale, beloved, I don’t care about that,” she said and stepped up to him, her concerned gaze growing, but also that determination that he loved so much. 

He hesitated when he tried to take another step back. His heart begging him to just allow himself to feel his beloved’s touch. “Yre-” he stopped short when she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. He stiffened in her arms before relaxing and wrapping his arms around her. “Lia,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t be here.”

She took a deep breath. “No, you should be,” she said firmly. “You should be here. You deserve to be here.” She pulled away and took his face in her hands. “I’m so happy you’re here.” She pulled him in close and kissed him softly.

He swallowed, his throat tight. He begged himself not to cry, as her chapped lips brushed against his. He pulled her in, burying his nose in her hair. He held onto her tightly, the world around them fading away. He didn’t care about whoever watched them and he didn’t care about Mystra’s upcoming disapproval. All he cared about was that he was alive and he was with Yrelia. He hadn’t wanted to die, he wanted to continue his journey with her. 

“Thank you,” he murmured to her. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” she whispered and rubbed his back. “I love you. I want you here.” She pulled away and smiled up at him. She reached up and brushed a tear off of his cheek. “Pretty selfish of me, isn’t it? Potentially condemning the world because I love you.”

He let out a wet laugh. “Perhaps, but I was just as selfish. More than you, if we’re being honest.” She grinned at him. He kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” They kissed. “Why don’t you clean up and we can find somewhere to lay down? I’m sure it will help. One can’t feel terribly great with unknown gunk in their hair.”

“Is it that terrible?”

“A bit.” They chuckled quietly at each other and kissed again.

After Gale bathed and left his robes to soak, he approached Yrelia. Camp was secluded away from the celebrations. The heroes of the day were far too tired for drinks and merriment. Their group had formed some odd connection beyond the tadpoles. Were they friends? The months spent together had definitely created a bond between them. He knew that everyone cared for Yrelia in some way, and he knew he would do what it took to protect their scrappy team.

There was a respect that was between them all, and when Gale wasn’t feeling gods awful, he appreciated it.

Yrelia was stretching, doing her nightly routine before bed. She sighed and rubbed her hip where it had been crushed. Bedrest had been ordered by Shadowheart after that whole ordeal, and they had made camp for days without progress. He remembered how guilty she had felt, despite most of them assuring her that she needn’t be. 

“Good, you’re here,” she turned and looked at him. “And, even better, you’re clean.” She reached out for him. She grabbed his elbows and squeezed, before sliding her hands down to his hands and holding them. “To be honest, beloved, I’m too tired for most things tonight. As are you, I assume.” 

“Yes,” he breathed. “I’m exhausted in a way I don’t think I ever have been before.”

“Then let’s sleep.” She started to pull him into her tent. He ignored the looks that his companions were giving him. Some eyebrow waggling, some teasing sneers, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to lay in her arms.

And she welcomed him into her arms. She pulled him in and rested her cheek on his head. She ran her fingers through his hair with one hand that was wrapped around his head, while she rubbed his side with the other hand. She pressed gentle kisses into his hair, and she softly whispered that she loved him. 

He buried his face in her neck, breathing on her skin. His heart was begging him to talk to her, to thank her, to express how much he loved her, but his mind was slow and sticky. He felt as if heavy weights were attached to him and pulling him under the sea. He desperately needed sleep, but he wanted to lay in her arms in the quiet of night. In her tent, with no light shining in. Where their music was their heartbeats, and their warmth was each other. 

“Beloved,” she whispered, “go to sleep.”

“I’ll be alright,” he said and kissed her neck. He rubbed his arm with her thumb.“I need to feel your embrace longer.”

She huffed a laugh. “There are more days to come. More days where I will happily hold onto you,” she said softly. “For now, rest. I will be here when you wake, I promise.” She squeezed him gently. “I am happy you’re here, my love. Thank you…for choosing me.”

Gale hummed as he stood, staring out of the window into the street. The snow was piling up quickly, no doubt it would be past his shins if he walked out into it. He considered not leaving the tower for a few days. He could just spend his holiday in his warm home with his beautiful fiancée.

He could hear her in the sitting room folding blankets. He sipped his cider as he heard her sing to herself. Some song that he didn’t recognize, but it was comforting all of the same. He had heard Cyr sing it to little Lia, which meant Yrelia had sung it to him. So it was a lullaby that she hadn’t lost the words to.

They had plenty of blankets, many of which Yrelia had collected. It was intriguing to watch her spend money, now that she had it. When they first started to collect money during their adventure she had kept it close to her, only spending it on products they needed. Food, bandages, pain potions. Then it grew to armor and weapon upgrades, elemental arrows, enchanted daggers. 

Now she had an incredible amount of gold. Their companions gave up most of their portions to her. Shadowheart kept most of hers at Yrelia’s insistence, but everyone else had no qualms giving up their portions. She was careful with it, but Gale assured her that he didn’t believe she would run out of her money.

He smiled. 

She would say it was their gold, not hers. That they were partners, a couple, soon to be married, and part of marriage was sharing income. He had told her it was still her gold and that he had no intention to take any of it from her. It had become his mission to convince her to spend money on herself, with a side mission of assuring her she should not feel guilty about doing so.

She had started slowly. Some hair pins here, a new pair of shoes there. Then it grew to perfume, wine that was actually worth the money, little trinkets that she never could have afforded when she was on her farm. The first time she had bought a pair of earrings for herself was worth celebrating. 

“What are you smiling about?” He heard her from behind him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her hand into his chest. 

“I am simply reminiscing, my love.”

“Oh?” She hummed. “And what about? Our adventure?”

“Yes. I was thinking…” he trailed off and she hummed again. “How we’ve changed.”

“Ahh.” She pulled away from him. He set aside his cider and turned to her. “I suppose we have changed since then, haven’t we?” She smiled. “Especially since we first met.”

“Yes, I was insufferable then,” he grumbled.

“Nooo, I thought you were cute!” She laughed. “I had a big crush on you,” she teased and kissed his lips.

He sighed with a smile. “I admit, I started to develop feelings for you quickly.” He sighed again. “But I couldn’t act on my feelings, no matter how desperately I wanted to.” 

“Alright, Gale, you are more than capable of doing this,” he muttered to himself as he stared at Yrelia from across camp. He simply wanted to speak with her. Maybe even to just…flirt with her. More. They had done quite a bit of flirting lately. It felt…good, despite the fact he couldn’t actually do anything. He was losing sleep over his feelings for her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He had thought that he would never find someone to love more than he had loved Mystra, but even a simple crush on Yrelia Rosewood was more intense than he had ever felt.

He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, he wanted to take her dancing, he wanted to invite her to his tower, make her dinner, and just kiss her until they were both seeing stars. He hadn’t realized until it was far too late that he was in very, very deep.

Yrelia was combing her hair with a calm look in her eyes. She blinked when she looked over to him and then smiled at him. Ugh, that went straight to his heart. He would do anything for that smile. His heart raced for her as she combed her damp hair. She had just come back from the nearby river…which he presumed that she had bathed in that river. He swallowed, trying not to think of that particular scene. Definitely do not think about that. Do not think about that.

He turned around, to stop looking at her, begging himself to not act like a damn teenager. He gripped at his chest, desperately trying not to look at her or think about her naked body with water dripping down it slowly. He groaned pathetically at himself, praying to whoever listened (because it definitely wasn’t Mystra) to just calm down the orb as it thrummed. He heard quick footsteps and then felt hands on his back, rubbing gently.

“Gale,” Yrelia called his name, pressing her hands into his back. “Do you need an artefact?” She asked with a bit of urgency, and he realized he was hunched over. He gritted his teeth and grunted at her. “It’s alright, I have you,” she said, trying to soothe him. She produced a ring with an onyx stone. He didn’t recognize it, but he also didn’t particularly care at that moment, as she placed it in his shaking hand. “Use it,” she whispered. “You’re more important than some silly ring.” 

He let out a breath at her words and then absorbed the Weave from the ring. He breathed deeply as Yrelia gently rubbed his back. Gods, this was humiliating. He made the damn orb go off because he couldn’t control his thoughts of her. He slowly cracked open his eyes and stared at her. Her brows were knit in concern and there was a slight frown on her face.

She stared at him with her blue eyes, and he could see his pathetic reflection in them. His every hope that he had seen in her started to fade away. How could he ever possibly think that they could be anything when the gods damned orb was in his chest? Her sweet smile, that he had begun to believe was for him, had given him too much hope for the future.

“Better?” 

He let out a heavy breath. “Yes,” he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said with a smile. She adjusted their positions so they were sitting more comfortably. When did they come to be on the ground? “I care about you,” she said and his heart thumped. “I would hate to lose you.”

Gods, they were so close. He could just lean in and brush his lips against her own. He was certain she would taste as sweet as she was. What he would give to taste her. 

But he couldn’t.

He didn’t deserve to. He didn’t deserve her. 

“Thank you,” he said again and she blinked. “I’m alright now.”

She blinked again before quickly retracting her hands from him. “Oh, sorry,” she apologized with a slight flush. She anxiously wrung her hands together and avoided his gaze. 

Ugh. Damn it. 

“I should be the one apologizing,” he breathed out and reached for a nearby waterskin. He drank it before letting out a breath. He cleared his throat as he set it aside. “We have precious few artefacts. To be the one destroying them when we so desperately need them-”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” she said. He frowned. “Besides, we all have our quirks. Two special diets, two exploding chests, a woman who’s a worshiper of Shar, an alien; we need to stick together and take care of each other, if we plan to make it out of here. I’ll provide you with as many artefacts as you need to keep you going on.”

“Thank you,” he said once again, genuinely meaning the two words. He glanced at her hands. She was still wringing them anxiously. He reached out and took one of her hands in his. “I’m quite fortunate to have someone like you during this time.” She smiled at him and her gaze— oh my gods, her gaze— was so warm. 

This was what he wanted that night. To just sit with her, to just be alone in their own world while they sat in the dirt together. She squeezed his hand and he felt his heart speed up. 

Wait. 

His brows knitted together and a frown form on his face. Had he…and had she…? He had been keeping it a secret. Poorly, but he had. So had he told her?

“I know that look,” Yrelia teased him. “What are you thinking?”

“I wasn’t aware Astarion had finally told you about his vampirism.”

A very awkward and somewhat uncomfortable expression grew on her face. Oh, he did not like that look in her eyes. “It wasn’t so much that he “told” me. Well, not at first…” she touched her neck with her free hand. 

Gale stared at her before he felt…anger. Some form of protective behavior that he hadn’t realized he was capable of. “He bit you?!” He let go of her hand and took her jaw into his hands, inspecting her skin for puncture wounds.

Her eyes widened and a flush spread on her face. “Um, yes, he did. It’s…kind of…” she sighed. “I woke up with him hovering over me and…” she sighed. She placed her hands over his and Gale processed what he had done. He started to pull his hands away from her face, but she put pressure down on them. “I’m alright,” she said softly. 

His gaze lifted from the very bruised part of her neck to her face. He took in a deep breath and let himself calm down. They stared at each other and Gale realized that they were close, that he was cradling her face, and that he really wanted to kiss her. He briefly glanced at her lips before remembering…he couldn’t remember how to kiss. Thirty five and unable to kiss.

How mortifying. 

He sighed and pulled his hands away from her face. He sat back and away from her lips. “I’ve decided on a new lesson that I will be more than happy to teach.”

She blinked and looked away from his lips. She cleared her throat. “Oh?”

“A spell.” She smiled curiously, a soft look in her eyes. “Sunlight.” He grinned as she laughed. 

Gale threw another log onto the fire as the winds started to pick up outside. Snow quickly blew by, it was sudden and fast. How was he supposed to plan for anything if the weather can change this quickly?!

“Beloved,” Yrelia called from bed. Her face was flushed from drinking more cider than usual. “You have that crease in your brow.”

“This weather is awful,” he complained. “I’m thinking of writing a strongly worded letter to the wizard in charge of weather predictions and informing them of how entirely unfit they are for the job. You know, we wizards are supposed to take our jobs seriously, Lia.” Yrelia slid out of bed and started walking towards him. “We are lectured and trained from a young age, through long lessons on pronunciation, proper somatic handwork, and even how to use a staff offensively.”

Yrelia hummed as she pulled him into bed. “Mouth work, handwork, and staff work? That is some proper training!” She pulled him on top of her. “I think I’d like to know more about this training of yours.” She grinned up at him. He blinked and her grin grew. “You walked right into it.”

He sighed. “I realize.”

“And you should kiss me.”

“I should.” He kissed her. “I love you.”

Her smile softened and she reached up and cupped his cheek. “I love you, too.” They kissed. “Now, my fiancé , I believe I made a request, and you wouldn’t deny me what I want on a holiday.”

He chuckled. He nuzzled her nose. “Never.”

“Tell me, my fiancé,” Yrelia hummed on their first night on their way home to Waterdeep. Gale was sitting on the bed while she let her hair down. She smiled and walked over to him. His heart leaped as she said the words. 

“Yes, my love?” He took her hand and kissed it. 

She smiled. She stepped up to him and took his face in her hands. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her chest, looking up at her face, ready for anything she had to say. Her smile grew. “Did you propose so I wouldn’t call you my boyfriend anymore?” 

He blinked before blushing. “It is unkind to tease me like this, Lia.”

She snorted. “Oh, but you are so fun to tease.” She giggled and kissed his forehead. “And now I have the rest of our lives to tease you. Seems like a good life to me.” She kissed his forehead again. Gale grinned and tears formed in his eyes, so unbelievably happy to be with her. She nuzzled his hair. “I love you, Gale. I can’t wait to start our life together.”

“I feel the same, Lia.” He accepted her kiss. “If we had champagne, I’d open a bottle.”

“We’ll find some when we’re in Waterdeep.” She started to push him back onto the bed. “Until then, I think there’s a few other ways to celebrate.”

He laughed and grabbed her hips as she straddled him. “I believe you’re onto something, my love.”

“Beloved,” Yrelia mumbled as Gale curled into her. He hummed and palmed her bare stomach. “Get some sleep.”

He hummed again. “Just a moment longer,” he murmured. “I need to feel you for a moment longer.”

She huffed a laugh. “I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

[glitch-in-the-code]

'Trust Me' by The Fray is a Audrey and Sidney song

[orim0ri]

“Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago."

- Hozier, From Eden

───────────────

Summary: The love the Brothers have for you follows them from present to past and to future

WARNING: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR NIGHTBRIGHTER

──

Note: MC is gender neutral (they/them pronouns), some angst but relatively fluffy, slight gore (it’s the Devildom), slight POLY MC, demon being a creep to Asmo, small spoilers to Chapter 16 in Obey Me: Shall We Date

A/N: For Satan’s part, I used his frustration and anger in a way of how I’d describe my anger/frustration because it can be hard to express how I feel and it’s like a big bundle of “what the fuck”

Oh, I also based Levi’s excitement to how I’d get really excited cause when I excited I get somewhat violent like “OH MY GOD IM GOING TO EAT THE DRYWALL” excited

───────────────

Lucifer did not trust or like you when the two of you first met. You were a demon, he thought at first, and disliked you immediately. Sure, he may be a fallen Angel now, a previous Archangel, but he refuses to compare himself to a demon, to be seen beside a demon aside from Diavolo.

He is more embarrassed of the fact he’d have to rely on you to help him through the Devildom, but maybe he hopes you’ll back down because of the fact, as a demon, caring for the traitors of the Celestial realm would ruin your reputation, or cause you to get in the line of fire with other demons.

But… You didn’t.

You got disgusted looks, glares, and were even spat at because of the fact you associated with them, with him, but you didn’t seem to care one way or the other, just keeping your head high and keeping by his side, not even caring if he did his own glaring and snide comments towards you.

You always came back to him no matter what he said to you.

When learning that you were human, he got a little softer towards you. Perhaps underestimating you sue to your mortality and how fragile you are, always monitoring you as if you weren’t already skilled around the Devildom, as if you didn’t have the power to destroy him with a flick of your wrist, as if you weren’t his own attendant.

Despite him growing protective over you, you always protected him in the end, even if he insisted he didn’t need such from a ‘human’ such as yourself.

“A fallen angel…” a demon had whispered while you two were walking down the street together, you showing him the best record stores in town. “How disgusting. I can smell the Celestial realm on it.”

Lucifer didn’t care, of course. What would engaging with a lowly demon do? But you, your Wrath was clearly showing when you side eyed the demon with a sneer. They seemed to notice you.

“And a demon? I feel bad for them…” Another whispered.

“I’d rather kill myself than be seen near that forsaken angel!” The demon cackled to their partner.

It set you off, even if Lucifer tried to grab your wrist to stop you. You approached the demons, and Lucifer felt his heart lurch. If you got hurt, they would smell the blood on you. How human it was. How soft you were. How pathetically fragile you are. It would ruin Diavolo. It would ruin everything Lucifer was trying to build.

He was about to shout when you grabbed the demon by the horns and tossed them to the ground, an aura about you radiating that made him shiver. You whispered something to the demon in their ear and suddenly their arm was twisted abnormally, as if the bones had shattered themselves at your voice, the skin stretching to accommodate the poking bones.

The demon could only scream, but silenced itself when you covered their mouth. “If I ever,” you said lowly to them. “Hear you utter those words, or any word for that matter, towards Lucifer and his brothers, I will make sure you lose more than just an arm.”

A single glance to the other demon cowering away from you only nodded, understanding the threat went both ways.

You suddenly flipped a switch and walked over to Lucifer with a smile, as if you hadn’t caused a demon to almost piss themselves because of you.

“Let’s get something to eat,” you said with a groan, holding your stomach. “I’m starving!”

He could only follow you silently to Hells Kitchen, unable to speak for a while after those events. He understood finally that you could be trusted to handle yourself, and, to handle his brothers (and himself).

It allowed him to lower his guard around you, to stop seeing you as a soft little human and more of an embodiment of pure, raw power that ended up in a human as kind, as empathetic, as funny and creative and beautiful and handsome as…

As you.

He would never admit his infatuation of you, finding it silly that he would fall for you so quickly. Perhaps it was a moment of weakness because of his Fall. Perhaps he was desperate for interaction with something other than loathsome demons aside from Diavolo. Perhaps it was the fact you were human and the very existence of humans brought him back to Lilith always.

How she gave herself up for them, for one.

It made him sick. It made him hate himself. It made him want to hate you, deep down.

How can he love the very thing that ruined his life? That ruined his brothers’ life? That caused his Father to have to try and punish Lilith for this.

He hated the way his heart throbbed in his chest when you were around. Those eyes gazing into his with a smile so kind, ignoring the harsh words that would escape his lips cursing your existence as a human being, yet you continue to smile at him.

He hates this feeling. He wishes it to go away. He wishes to stop seeing you in his dreams every night, imagining your hands running through his hair, kissing his skin, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He wishes he didn’t want to spend more time with you. He wishes much, much more.

A toxic, bitter disgust settles on his tongue, like eating a sour lemon, leaving nothing but an ache in his heart and a bundle of confusion, anger, and sadness tangled up inside his chest.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Lucifer sits in his room, idly doing paperwork that seemed to never lessen in their stacks, to him, it only seems to grow more and more. He sighs quietly and drops his quill, settling his face in his hands, listening to the idle crackle of the fire in the background. His shoulders were stiff and so was his back. Lucifer considered for just a moment of taking a break, but there was an itch in the back of his mind urging him forward, that it had to be finished today. If he didn’t finish, it will ruin his reputation with Diavolo.

Just before he picked up his pen, there was a knock on his office door. He furrowed his brows, thinking it was on of his brothers coming to complain about one another again, or to complain about Mammon taking something from them again, he sighed;

“Come in.”

To his surprised (and to his dismay), you entered with a cup of coffee in hand along with a small box balancing on your forearm that held the cup as you opened the door, shutting it behind you with your foot as you grabbed the box in your now free hand. You smiled at him, ignoring his little glare, which would’ve been terrifying if you hadn’t seen it all before.

“This was an unexpected visit, MC.” He said, looking down at his paperwork. “Did one of my brothers tell you to come here?”

“Nope!” You said, setting down the box in front of him, on top of his papers, and the cup of coffee on the side away from the papers, because you didn’t want to annoy him, or spill the coffee. You’d… never see the next day, if you did.

“I came here to see you, Lucifer”.

The ache returned and so did the taste of something sour and bitter, he clenched his hand underneath his desk subconsciously, looking away from you and down at his paperwork, trying to give you the hint to leave him alone.

But you never left, as you never do.

“Aheeemm.” You cleared your throat annoyingly loud, making him sigh.

“Yes?”

“Try the coffee I made you!”

“…I prefer to make my own coffee, thank you.” He muttered, pretending to read off of his paper.

“Luciferrrr…” You whined, sitting down in the chair across his desk, sighing loudly. “If you at least look in the box I got you and drink just a little sip of that coffee, I swear to you, I’ll bribe your brothers to leave you alone for the rest of the day. At least until I make dinner.”

He glances up at you and sighs quietly, dropping his pen again. “Fine.” He said, grabbing the box first, “you better hold up to your word.”

You nodded happily and lean forward in your chair to get a closeup of his face. Upon opening the box, he sees Devil macaroons from Madam Scream’s, Princess’ Poison Apple flavored. He’s narrowing his eyes at the name, never hearing of that before, given that you are the one introducing most of Devildom’s cuisines to him, when he ever has time.

“I always think of the Poison Apple like green apples,” you said with a hum. “I mean they’ve never gotten me sick, but they do have a bitterness about them with a hint of sweetness, kinda like how dark chocolate does.”

He barely understands half of what you’re talking about but he shuts the box and sets it to the side, aiming for the coffee. He was feeling a little exhausted, thinking about drinking some of his own brew in a few hours or so.

You look more excited as he brings the cup to his lips.

The taste of incredibly bitter coffee hit his tongue immediately, the warm black brew made his heart quicken, and tongue tingle. But the taste, the horrible bitter taste, it made his nose scrunch up.

Yet it was so warm, comforting, and familiar.

“You couldn’t have at least put sugar in this.” He glares at you as you snicker lightly as his expression.

“Sorry, sorry. But I did.” You said, standing up. “It’s a special bean brew I got from the shop today. The reason it’s so bitter is because it brings out the admiration the maker has for the drinker. That being you!”

His hands, through his gloves, are warmed by the mug of coffee, the crackling of fire filling in the silence that settled between you two. He couldn’t bare to look away from you as the tips of his ears grew warm while staring back into those eyes.

So soft.

So loving.

So perfect.

Lifetimes could go by and he could never be bored. Thousands upon thousands of years and never once forget. Devildom was suppose to be a punishment, a way to bare his sins, but how can this be a punishment when you were here in front of him? A human being that surely was a silent gift from his Father to him and his brothers. You must have been. To be molded so perfectly, to have your soul reflect his very being.

You reach your hand out to him, tilting your head to the side, as if examining him, and settle your hand upon his cheek, rubbing your thumb across it tenderly. He almost melts into your touch, craving it, missing it.

Then the comfortable silence is broken by the sound of yelling coming from downstairs, a mixture of Mammon and Levi arguing along with Satan’s screaming at them. You sigh and pull back, a fond smile on your face.

“Well, a deal is a deal,” you said standing up. “I’ll go take care of that and call you down for dinner, okay? And you can’t say no because I’ll drag you down.”

You leave the room, quickly, in order to stop the brothers from possibly breaking anything. Lucifer, before you opened the door and shut it behind you, almost reaches out to grasp you, to hold you close, to never let you leave.

Then the commotion downstairs dies down as quickly as it started.

You were a human of your word.

He looks to the mug and brings it back to his lips, savoring the bitterly sweet flavor that spreads in his mouth and throat as he drinks it down, never stopping as the warmth continues to burn at his heart and melt him. He wants to savor it, but the greed inside of him wants more and more to drink, to taste more of the feelings you brewed inside the coffee, to feel more of your love.

Lucifer set down the empty cup, his throat tightening as a wave washes over him, a singular tear running down his cheek. He wipes it away gently as he breathes out, shakily, confused.

He wants to drown in this lovely bitter feeling for all of eternity.

───────────────

Mammon believes he doesn’t need you. You may be their attendant to lead them around the Devildom, to get them settled, but he doesn’t need you. After all he’s The Great Mammon! He can do everything himself, if need be. It’s what he’s always done. Looking after his little brothers, looking after his older brother. It’s something he’s always done, even if the other brothers seem to hate him for it, or to berate him for whatever reason. They’re his brothers after all, he knows that they love him, even if they’re a little mean to him. He loves them dearly, even if he can never express it, or put it into actions properly.

But you always see through it somehow. Always giving him a playful smile when he unintentionally compliments his brothers. Never taking his little snide comments to you to heart, only lightly rolling your eyes at him, like you’ve heard it all before.

He doesn’t need you.

He didn’t need you to walk with him through RAD, keeping him from running off away from his classes, holding his arm and ignoring his complaining.

“Lemme go!” He struggled, though, not putting much weight into his struggling or fight. He could toss you off if he desperately wanted to.

“UGGHH I don’t wanna go to my classes! If I do, I’m gonna die. I’m actually gonna die, they’re so boring! Ya’ know that too! You were halfway of fallin’ asleep last period!”

“Yeah but I still managed to write all the notes in the class down, unlike you.”

“Nuh uh! I got m’ notes!”

Liar.

He doesn’t need you to help him. To scold him. He’s already got Lucifer to do all of that. He doesn’t need you he doesn’t.

“Hey!” The sudden snap of your voice caused him to jump as he heard the snickers of a demon running away.

That’s when he saw his wallet being waved around in the demons hand, as if mocking Mammon because of the fact he was robbed blind, barely even registering it.

Mammon didn’t need you, he couldn’t easily just chased after the demon and caught up to them no problem. After all, he was the most fast of his brothers. Fastest swimmer, flyer, runner. He would’ve caught up with the demon if you hadn’t chased after them, sprinting after them and catching up only a few feet away, tackling them to the ground and slamming their head to the ground.

“Get offa me!” The demon yelled, trying to stretch themselves from you getting the wallet. “That traitor angel has Diavolo wrapped around his finger! It’s not like he’ll miss petty pocket change!”

This only angered you further. Mammon could only watch with wide eyes as you, a human, began to plummet the demons face in. Hitting them, scratching them, anything you could do to their face to make then scream and wail and try and fight you off. They tried to shove you, but you grabbed their horns and slammed their head down into the marble, rendering them completely dazed. You snatched the wallet from their loosened grip, standing up with a disgusted grimace, and spit down onto them.

“Next time I see your disgusting face around here again, I’ll curse you to live in eternal agony.” You gritted your teeth, giving a kick to the demons side, and walking off back to Mammon.

He didn’t need you. He could’ve done it himself. He doesn’t need a human to defend him, to fight for him, he doesn’t need-

“Here you go Mams.” You smiled, wiping your bloodied knuckles on your uniform pants. His wallet in one piece. “Make sure to keep your wallet in the side pocket. That way you don’t get your wallet swiped. Trust me, I’ve learned from experience.”

You were snickering as if nothing big just happened, grabbing his arm and dragging him off to the next class as he was in a daze, looking down at the wallet. There was a small bit of blood on the leather.

He…

Mammon’s heart began to race as he wiped the blood off the leather with his thumb, swallowing hard. A warmth crawling up his neck and spreading across his cheeks.

He… wants you to need him too…

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Mammon hated today. He hated everything today. Leviathan blamed him for stealing some stupid figure from his room and complained to Lucifer. Lucifer decided it would be a great idea to string him up on the chandelier again for making Leviathan bother him while he was working and for stealing. Not listening to his protests. He was struggling against the binds as Asmodeus sighed pitifully at Mammon.

“Seriously, Mammon, you need to learn from your mistakes. This is, like, what, the fifth time this week.” Asmodeus looked down at his nails and picked at one of them.

“I told ya! It ain’t my fault! I didn’t steal shit from Levi!”

“Yes you did! Just admit it!” Levi cried. “It was a rare collectible! My prized jewel! I know you stole it, scummy Mammon! Give it back!”

“I didn’t. Steal. Yer’. Stupid. Toy!”

“It isn’t a toy! Monster!”

“Hey!” Your voice was like a saving grace to Mammon when he heard you coming through the door, a hand on your hip. “The hells going on?”

“Mammon stole my ultra Ruri-Chan figurine! I know he did! He was the only one in my room today!”

“Did you?” You asked, looking at Mammon with a raised brow.

“No!” He yelled, tears almost coming into his eyes in frustration, only seeing Lucifer just stand idly by silently. “I didn’t steal shit! Sure I’ll steal somethin’ else from the house but I ain’t touching shit from Levi’s stuff! It’s all junk anyways!”

“You take that back!-“

“Enough.” Your voice silenced their bickering. You stepped forward and looked to Lucifer. “Let him down.”

The other brothers watched in awe at your tone, demanding Lucifer to do what you wanted. Lucifer raised a brow at you, testing you, expecting you to immediately back down. But your little staring contest ended in Lucifer sighing and snapping the rope and letting Mammon fall to the ground. He groaned but looked up at you with admiration, and a gratitude as his eyes continued to water. The frame of your figure was like a sunrise in the Devildom, purely beautiful to him, better than gold. His heart thrummed in his chest violently.

“Hey!” Levi whined. “He didn’t give my figurine back! He didn’t even apologize!”

“Levi,” you look at him and Levi wilted back. “You should clean your room once in a while. I found the figurine box buried under your clothes. It fell from the shelf because of the other figurines on it.”

Levi’s face burst into red, embarrassed. He began fiddling with his fingers, finding his nails more interesting. He avoided Mammon’s gaze the most, more than yours, as you untied Mammon easily.

“Levi.”

You give him a little look, a raised brow. Like you were a disappointed parent. Lately you’ve tried to get the brothers to apologize more to Mammon whenever he is accused of things that he hasn’t done. Especially Levi and Mammon. You hoped to bring them closer, or at least stop them from constantly yelling at one another. Also to communicate, even a little bit better with one another.

“I-I know…” Leviathan muttered under his breath, looking at Mammon finally as he stood up. Levi breathed in and sighed.

“I’m sorry… I-I just-“ Levi’s face grew more redder than before, it almost rivaled any Devildom equivalent tomato. “I’m sorry Mammon. You know I get very protective over my stuff… Especially those figurines… I’m-I’m really sorry!”

Mammon couldn’t even feel the anger he felt before, staring at Levi, but his focus was mainly on you, what you did for him. He looked at Levi, than to you. You were more preoccupied looking over his skin and rubbing a loving touch over the slight rope burn on his skin.

“Uhm… Yeah.” Mammon looked down at floor with his face a little red from your soft touches. “It’s fine. Just quit blammin’ me for the fact you’re so messy, Levi. That rooms a pigsty, somethin’ is bound to get lost.”

“Hey! I-“ Levi looked at you and saw a look in your eyes, he immediately shut his mouth and nodded, running off back to his room and shutting the door.

Mammon was silently led by you to his room, much to the complaints of his other brothers, but he couldn’t have felt more proud as they complained, your attention solely on him. You sat down on his bed, looking at him as he stood there. He tried to ignore the drumming of his heart racing, the swelling, the tightness in his throat.

“Y’- y’gonna scold me now?”

“Do you think I am?”

“…no…”

“Then you know my answer.”

Mammon couldn’t hear anything else other than his ramming heart. He couldn’t focus. The pain and frustration of earlier mattered little to what he felt right now. You motioned him closer. He slowly approached and you grabbed his hand gently, sitting him down beside you and tapping your thigh. He settled his head on your lap, awkwardly.

He swallowed as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“You okay?” You asked quietly.

He couldn’t be more okay than right now. He nodded as he buried his face with a turn of his head into your stomach, smothering himself in the smell of your shirt and your skin. There was the scent of detergent along with the sweet scent of you. It was a warmth of you that made him want to cry. You always focused on him, like he was more important and than anything else. More important than money, than gold, higher than any deity. Like he was your everything, and the way you ran his fingers through his hair, he was brought back to a weird nostalgia. As if this has happened many times before. Your voice. Your touch. Your smell. It all felt…right.

He never wanted to leave this. Not at all.

“Yknow,” you spoke up, twirling a strand of his white hair. “Even though you can be a pain in my ass for getting in trouble so much…”

He grunted into your shirt, as if warning you about your words, which was a fruitless threat.

“You’re the best first man I could ever ask for.”

His breath caught his throat and tears welled up in his eyes, now soaking into the fabric of your shirt. His lower lip trembled and he tried to smother himself further into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, sniffling. That “first man” again… It made his heart soar, it made him want to hold you even tighter, to protect you like you protect him, it made him want to do everything for you, to bring you the joys that the world would have to offer, no matter the cost of Grimm.

“I love you…” He mutters. He wants to say it more. He wants to whisper it eternally, he wants you to feel what he feels, to suffer what he feels and how beautifully his chest aches for you, how there are words he wants to scream out to you.

“I love you… I love you…” He continues. Sniffling. He hates crying but he can’t help it.

He is your first man, as you’ve said. It’s his job to protect you, to provide for you, to give you the entire world, if you asked him to. And he’s more than willing to do it.

───────────────

It was your mission to change Levi, even a little bit. By change, you wanted to bring confidence to him, a confidence he never had in the Devildom or the Celestial Realm. Even a little bit of it would go a long way. You’ve made a little progress, which goes a long way in your book, but there are set backs to your hard work.

Like the demons at RAD especially.

It irritated you to no end about how they make fun of Levi, it pissed you off. But Levi didn’t understand your anger. He would sulk constantly because he knew what they were saying, but it wasn’t like you were apart of their comments about him. Levi just didn’t get you.

Especially when you do the things he doesn’t expect people do to for him. You fuel his spirits as an otaku. You buy him mangas you knew he’d love, watch anime with him constantly when you were over at the HOL, playing games with him or watching him play. It brought him a peace he didn’t know he could achieve, it made his heart race, his hands sweat, and face heat up. It was everything he ever wanted and more. Perfect, even. And it was hard to say “perfect” in the House of Lamentation, especially around his brothers.

You two were sitting in the partially empty classroom with other demons taking their seats, waiting for class to start. He was rambling about the new game he hoped to get so you can play together.

“I heard that it’s an open world and there’s so many options you can do as of gameplay that can also build your character and their personality that will affect the choices that will pop up in the game! Oh and-“

“Oh my gosh does this guy ever shut up?” You heard a demon behind you whisper. Well, not exactly whisper. They made it to where Levi could hear what they said.

Levi immediately shut his mouth tightly, looking down at the table, picking his painted nails quietly as his cheeks turned red from embarrassment. This made you grit your teeth, turning around to the demon who continued to idly chat to their table partner.

“Hey, what the hell is your problem?”

“No… MC you don’t have to-“

“My problem? What’s his problem? He’s been going a mile a minute without a single breath and it’s annoying. Plus he was talking too loud and basically made it hard for me to even have a conversation.” The demon sneered at you, leaning their cheek against their hand. “I basically did you a favor by saying what we’re all thinking.”

You opened your mouth to say something else, to argue for Levi, but he grabbed your hand gently. “It’s fine… I mean I was being weird and-“

“You know what.” You interrupted, looking at the demon. “We’re sorry for interrupting your conversation.”

You turned away from the demon’s table, leaving Levi to sit there and stare at you, doubt immediately filling his mind. Did you mean that? Did you agree with the demon? But you were staring at him so sweetly as he explained his game… Was he just seeing it- was-

Then he heard the sound of muffled yelling and the words of the demon desk mate of the other rude demon who interrupted you and Levi’s conversation. Levi turned back to see the demon clawing at their face, mainly their mouth, which appeared to be sealed shut, as if their lips were glued together. Levi turned to you when he saw your slightly sadistic smirk as the two demon deskmates hurried out of the room.

Levi looked at you, then back at the door the demon scurried out of, then back at you. You were smiling, those eyes explained everything he needed to know about what happened.

“We can’t interrupt their conversation if they can’t have one, can we?”

Levi stared at you like a fish out of water, wide eyes and red cheeks as his heart raced, confused thoughts racing through his mind. Why? Why do this for someone like him?

“Levi? Aren’t you gonna tell me more about the game? You have to! We’re gonna play it together, right? I gotta know all about it first so we can enjoy it!” Grinning playfully at him, all thoughts were thrown out of the window as he relaxed.

That’s right, he never wanted anything more than to talk to you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“MC! MC YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS!” He was practically shaking you before you even stepped foot in his door. Somehow he detected that you were walking down the hallway to his room and he opened the door before you knocked and said the passcode.

“Uh, what can’t I believe?” You gently put your hands on his shoulders to stop him from rattling your brain too much.

“COME IN! LOOK!” He dragged you inside and shut the door, locking it so no normies (his brothers) entered the room.

He pointed to his partially filled up bookshelf filled with hardcovers and manga volumes. There, on a lone shelf with a single hard book, was the infamous TSL book you saw when you first arrived to the Devildom and spoke to Levi.

“There’s finally a hardcover book on Tales of Seven Lords! Can you believe it!? I was the first one to revive the book! The hardcover no less! Look at it!” He grabbed it off the shelf and shoved it in your hands to look at the skillfully crafted art covered front.

“IM SO SO HAPPY! I could die! I could literally die right now!” He squealed and bounced up and down and barely even breathing from his excitement, on the verge of gritting his teeth as he clenched and unclenched his fists to conceal the urge to just explode! “OH! MC, so you know the third lord right!? The lord-“

“The Lord of Shadows.” You smiled at him fondly, as if reminiscing on a memory that was most treasured to you, the day you two first met, gazing at him with just as much devotion as it was in your words.

He stopped slowly, staring at you with wide eyes and he blinked. You knew about TSL? Well, it’s no wonder you knew about it, it’s pretty famous and he did ramble to you about it more than once, and during those rambles you’d always… Stare at him. With those eyes so soft and urging him to continue, never stopping him once. Even when he went on for hours and hours you never stopped him unless you wanted to get a snack or drink or use the bathroom, even then you always came back and would sit down right next to him and just… Listen. Usually incorporating your own thoughts into the conversation, but mainly letting him speak. And in those rambles, you remembered everything. The memories itself made him blush and heart pound, his hands sweating and his legs feel like jello.

Even now, the way you looked at him, it made him feel even worse, as if his legs would give out any moment and he would collapse into your arms and still you would look at him with that expression. So warm and loving, something he never thought in his loser life he’d see. He’s only seen it in anime, never IRL.

“Levi?” The sound of his name snapped him out of his stupor.

“Uh- Huh? What?”

“You were telling me about the Lord of Shadows, yeah? What did you wanna say?”

“I uh…” he can’t speak, his mouth feels dry as tears well up in his eyes, the overwhelming warmth crawling in his chest and prickling his skin. He wants to crush you in a hug, or he just wants to kiss you- okay no too far! He… He doesn’t know what to do with himself. All he can do is breathe shallowly as he stares at you, the tears running down his face.

“Levi?” You furrow your brows in concern, putting the book gently back in its place on the shelf, and stepping forward to him, a hand pressed against his cheek. “You alright?”

Oh the warmth of your skin sends tingles up his spine. He relaxes into the softness of your palm, more tears running down his face. It felt so right, so perfect, like time never passed and it was just you and him in this moment. He never thought he’d experience this normie encounter, this ‘love’, that he always watched or read about in cheesy anime romances, but the way you rubbed his tears away only made it more solid for him, more real.

“Are you okay?” You ask again, more quietly, softly, as if he would lurch away from you like a frightened fish.

“Yes…” He breathed out, sniffling. He shuts his eyes tightly, not being able to look you in the eye, and brings you into his arms, needing to feel more of your warmth, of your pure love. “I just… really, really, really like you. Like… uhm… like like you.”

You chuckle quietly as his embarrassment, running your fingers through his hair. “I like like you too, Lev.”

His blush only worsened as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin, holding you even tighter.

You always listened to him. You have him all the confidence he could ever want in the world, even if it wasn’t much. He’d promise that one day, he was gonna have enough confidence to let the words “love you” slip from his lips and not in his texts…

───────────────

Satan is angry. He was born angry. Angry over what? He never understood why he was angry, he just was. The urge to just destroy, to tear everything he touched, saw, smelled and tasted apart. To rip into everything and make sure nothing would be recognized from it, whether that be a person or an object.

He never understands why he’s like this.

He doesn’t wanna be like this. He doesn’t wanna constantly feel the rage bubbling inside his chest and cause him to clench his fists tight, to make him grit his teeth, to make the unshed tears of frustration well in his eyes and almost fall. He doesn’t want to feel them. He wants to understand why he feels this way constantly, why it gets to the point he wants to rip off his own skin, to claw his way out of his flesh and rip his hair out, to rip anyone apart, even his proclaimed brothers.

Satan was angry at them the most.

Anything they did made him angry and he hated being angry and he hated it when they did it constantly. The yelling, the pointless bickering, the scheming, Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer. He blamed Lucifer for all of this, for making him the way he is. He’s angry over something that’s now passed and what is his purpose now? What is he supposed to be angry about now? He doesn’t even know why he’s supposed to be angry in the first place, tell him Lucifer, tell him what the point is in being angry over something he doesn’t understand. Was this his punishment for a war he didn’t even realize he was apart of?

He doesn’t understand and that makes him even more angry. He hates being angry. He hates his brothers. He hates everything and it’s a pain because he doesn’t want to. He can only hope that this anger tires him out so he can sleep, the only time ever him and his brothers ever find peace.

But there is no peace or rest for Wrath.

It surges through him as Satan tosses the coffee table to the wall, shattering the glass and causing the wall to crack, leaving an indent in it. He yells at nothing, the animalistic snarls and growls echoing through the living room as he continues to break everything in his sight and throw everything. His brothers can only watch as he destroys the living room.

“Satan!” He hears Asmo yell. “Stop it! You’re gonna throw something at us! If something hits my face you’re so dead!”

“Seriously Satan, calm down! It’s not the serious!” Mammon chimed in, trying to enter the living room but was quickly conked in the head by a hardcover book. “OW! Hey! That’s it! When you’re done with yer little temper tantrum, you better run!”

“Shut up, you imbecile!” Satan yelled, his throat tightening. He hates what he’s doing but he can’t help it. The anger hurts so much he can’t help but destroy. Even the precious books we was starting to enjoy, the thing that taught him what he needed to know about this new world he was created in.

“Satan,” HIS voice finds its way in Satan’s ears and he tenses, gritting his teeth, the anger almost bursting inside of him like a volcano, only worsening at the sound of Lucifer. “Don’t make me have to string you up at the chandelier again.”

Satan turned his head to his eldest brother, a sneer present across his face. They both stares each other down, Satan’s wrath boiling over. He was on the verge of pouncing when you suddenly showed up. You must’ve heard the commotion of crashing and yelling while on your way to HOL and came over immediately, maneuvering your way through the brothers.

Satan stares back at you, the rage inside of him still eating it’s way out of him. He wants to hurt you too. And that’s what makes him hate himself and his sin even more.

“Satan?” Your voice calls to him as he clenched his fists, shaking with anger. The frustrated tears began to leak from his eyes, down his cheeks, his teeth clenched so tight they could break.

“Hey,” you approach him slowly, taking small steps forward, your arms raised and open for him. “Cmere. It’s alright, let’s breathe, okay?”

“We’ve been telling him to breathe!” Asmo said with a pout. “But he wouldn’t-“

You looked at Asmo and he closed his mouth, seeing the look in your eyes saying “not now” and he understood. The brothers were ushered away by Lucifer when you looked at him. Crowding Satan wasn’t helping and you knew this.

“Satan?” You called again, his name sliding off of your lips like it was a name that was only meant for a demon that is important.

He couldn’t answer you as he continued to tremble, his nails digging into his palms.

“Hey…” You motioned your arms a little with a smile, stepping forward, closer to him, only inches away. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

He nods, slowly, swallowing hard as he tries to breathe but it comes off as rapid and heavy, given that he basically trashed the entire living room for half an hour.

Your warm arms wrapped around his torso. He was stiff as a board, still shaking, not returning your hug, afraid of hurting you if he even dared to touch you. Your hold was gentle as you brought his head closer to your shoulder for him to lean into, his heavy breathing hitting your neck as well as a bit of sweat and the tears that went down his face. Your fingers danced through his blonde hair. Your breathing was relaxed, composed, your heartbeat did not skip. It was calm. You were calm. Not worried at all around him, only leaning your head on his as your fingers continued to thread through his hair.

Satan’s shaky hands slowly came up around you, finding their way to your shirt, gripping it tightly, almost close to tearing it from his sharp nails. His face buried itself further into the crook of your neck, the tears hitting your skin hard as he breathed out shakily, biting his tongue to silence himself and try and hold himself together, but his resolve was breaking at the seams from how you held him so gently, like he was the fragile one and not the demon that destroyed everything in the house.

His breath hitched and a choked back cry left his throat, his legs slowly giving out beneath him as he began to crumple to the floor. You followed him, guiding his body down to the ground and still continuing to hold him. He was practically in your lap now, legs tightly around your waist as tightly as the hands that gripped your shirt. His anger began to simmer to a halt immediately, the scent of you overwhelming it, bringing his racing heart to a calming pace as he matched your breathing. The adrenaline coming down, leaving him at an all time low.

It was never usually like this after his rampages… He never felt this much clarity, no matter how bittersweet.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He didn’t give any indication of yes or no, simply keeping still.

“Was it your brothers?”

A slow nod. Yes.

“They say something to you?”

He shook his head. No.

“Mm. Too loud today?”

Nod. Yes.

“I’m guessing you were reading?”

He didn’t even need to nod for you to know. You sighed quietly. You’d have to scold them. But that could come later.

“I’m sorry…” his voice rasped out, muffled by your skin.

“About the furniture? Don’t worry, I got it covered-“

“No. About the book. The book I was reading.” He said, his grip on you getting tighter, like an apology. “It got so loud I snapped it in half… All of the pages were everywhere and that made me angrier… You got that book for me and I wanted to read it in the living room but they just ruined it… They ruined the reading time I wanted and I ruined the book… I’m sorry… I’m so-“

“Hey,” you move your hand up to his cheek, making him reluctantly move himself away from your neck and look into your eyes. “Don’t worry about the book. I’m more worried about you. I can always get another for you.”

You were worried about him. There was no doubt you saw the state of the living room; the overturned, torn couches that bled out fluff everywhere, the scratched up walls with a few dents in them from him throwing everything he could at them, broken glass here and there, splinters, and more. And yet you were more concerned about him.

Satan’s heart pounded softy in his chest, tightening, he swallowed again. He wasn’t angry or overwhelmed with rage, just warm. A good warm. A warmth that could only be described as admiration as the soft look started to get into his head, unable to remove it from his memory, which it was engrained in.

He buried his face back into your neck. He was exhausted and you weren’t making it any easier on him. The exhaustion of his rampage hit him like a truck and the warmth of your words and your body only soothed him further. Is this what the brothers meant by the Celestial Realm? Describing the bliss of it, the clarity, the pure warmth with the sun constantly beaming down on them. You were Satan’s sun in the dark Devildom, lulling him to sleep.

You smile at him and kiss his temple, the flesh tingling after your lips leave his skin. His heart was practically buzzing now.

You always took care of him…

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“MC, is there a reason you’re covering my eyes?”

“It’s a surprise! You’ll know it when you see it! Oh- watch your footing here, there’s a few holes in the pavement.”

Your hands covered Satan’s eyes, leading him over to who-knows-where with a smile on your face, almost mischievous, or maybe it just looked that way due to your excitement. You led him carefully through the Devildom Main Street, going past stores and other shops, mindful of the demons walking past the two of you. Your smile only grew as you made him stop.

“Are we there?”

“Yup! You just need to reach out your hand, okay? Push.” You instructed, leading him to the door.

He followed your instructions and pushed open the door, the sound of a bell chiming and the scent of coffee and tea enveloping his senses, as well as the sudden feeling of something rubbing against his leg. You removed your hands and suddenly Satan’s eyes adjusted to the soft lights, as well as the noise of… meowing?

He looked down to see an orange cat rubbing itself against his leg, purring loudly and chittering as it did so. Satan’s eyes grew wide as he looked at him, a bubbling of excitement building in his chest. He looked at you.

“Surprise! It’s a cat cafe! It opened a few weeks ago and I just had to bring you! They even have a little bookshop just across the way so it’s pretty convenient and cozy, yeah? Oh! Before that!” You grabbed his hand and led him to a booth by the window. “I got us seats reserved beforehand!”

Satan could only mutely follow your lead and sit down at the booth, the orange cat returning to jump onto the table and sit there proudly, a little lazy smile on its face. Satan looked at you again.

“You- You did this for me?”

“Mhm!” A waiter came by and handed you the menus and you skimmed through it, already knowing what was on the menu given that this cafe was there in the future, you having gone to it multiple times before with Satan.

Satan could barely breathe as you handed him the menu, looking down at it and then to the cat, who slowly blinked at him. He slowly blinked back with a small smile. You snickered under your breathe when you practically saw stars forming in his eyes at the orange cat that now lazily laid itself on the table, as if it owned the place, as expected of many cats.

“Thank you MC…” He said, petting the cat on its side with a soft smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t.” You smiled. “But I wanted to.”

Satan has always read about love in romance novels, always seen how the author describes love as a bundle of emotions that mix into one, becoming overwhelming, in a way that is painful, but it feels good, the pain, as it is described. Needing to hold the lover so tightly, needing more and more of their mind, body, and soul, needing their warmth, unable to breathe unless speaking their name. And when they speak their name of their lover, it’s like taking a breath in of their existence and exhaling it, needing more and more of their entire being that consumes the mind of the protagonist.

Satan never understood the feeling until now. Gazing upon you as the streetlights beam through the window and cast upon your face, almost like a halo or as if you were descending from the Heavens and in front of him now. Satan could barely breathe, nor think, for the very first time. This feeling he felt, he realized that it would last lifetimes, even more. Seeing you would be like falling in love for the very first time.

He began to thank his Father in the Celestial Realm, a Father whom he’s never met, but thanks him anyway, for creating you, for letting you sit in the booth with him now.

He doesn’t even realize your hand had enveloped his across the table, fingers intertwined perfectly. His fingers closed in on your hand. Oh your warmth… His heart pounded and eyes began to tear up without his notice.

Oh the love inside his chest as he stared at you, never breaking the silence with you and enjoying the bliss of the somewhat quiet cafe, the occasional chatter of demons, the clang of silverware, the meowing the cats. He felt no anger boil inside of him, just peace, peace for the very first time.

“I love you, MC.” He blurted out, the word ‘love’ heavy on his tongue, exhaling your name. He felt like it wasn’t enough.

Your smile made his heart almost stop. “I love you too Satan.”

He firmly head your hand, blinking back the tears that came from the weird familiarity that bloomed in his chest. It’s like he’s known you for decades, even more, and loved you for longer.

“I love you.” He repeats, more softly.

There’s a glint in your eyes, like you know. Like you’ve always known. “I love you too.”

He was born from rage, but you give him new purpose, you complete his newly formed heart. And he hopes that his existence can complete yours, as well.

───────────────

Asmodeus is beautiful, everyone knows this. The Jewel of the Heavens, now the Jewel of Hell. Quite literally a diamond in the rough. But somehow he shines despite this, and he knows this, he can tell by the way some demons start to warm up to him, or begin to stare for longer at him than they previously did when he first arrived at the Devildom.

He adores the attention. He craves it. He knows he’s beautiful, but to be appreciated for his beauty is even more than what he could ask for.

But yet it isn’t enough. He loves it yet somehow it… irritates him.

Perhaps it is the fact he’s still seen as the jewel of heaven? Loved for who he once was, not the beauty of who he is now? Maybe they are right with how they viewed him. His old self was probably better than who he is now. No longer as pure as he was, no longer with those beautiful wings and now stuck with the ugly leather and scorpion tail.

He knows he’s beautiful, he does. But yet why does he feel sick looking at himself in the reflection of his mirror, no longer seeing himself as Asmodeus and rather a stranger.

Asmo is torn between his thoughts, trying to find himself among the doubt, the insecurity, the pain of who he is. Give him the attention he deserves, the attention he needs, but see him.

See him… Please.

Love him.

Please…

I can’t be the only one that loves myself, can I?

But then you came into his life, to his brothers lives, in all your glory as a human being in the scary Devildom, completely unafraid by the demons around you, their strength, and the strange ingredients and the wildlife that surrounds you.

At first, he thought you would be like most humans he heard demons talk about, including angels. All humans are known for being helpless against temptation, all falling to the urges of power or lust, it was quite simple to do. But with you, it’s like you saw right through him, eyes sharp and looking past the persona he’s built for himself for eons, all in a single glance.

It terrified him.

You somehow could read him as easily as a book and it scared him. You saw past his beauty and it scared him. You saw his insecurities in himself, the occasional doubt, and it makes him almost want to cry. You could easily use this ability to your advantage, take him down a notch, to ruin him in the Devildom, or to use him as your own benefit.

But you don’t.

Instead, you protect him with your life practically on the line, forgetting you are a lone human (aside from Solomon) in a realm of demons, protecting him from the lowlife that try and take advantage of him as the newly established Avatar of Lust.

You two were at Majolshi. You came with him often in the Devildom, acting like a guard dog in a way, and keeping him up to date with a latest Devildom fashion. After all, he’s trying to establish himself in the Devildom as an influencer.

“Hey, Asmo,” you called to him. He looked up from the rack of clothes he was filing through. “I’m gonna go to the register to check these out, okay? If you wanna get any more, just hand it to me, my treat.”

Asmo gave you a surprised look and then pouted. “Darling! I could easily pay for everything! You may be my attendant, but you don’t need to spoil me so much!”

“But I like spoiling you.” Your smile was sweeter than sweet, like saccharine, and it made his heart jump to his throat. It threw all other thoughts out the window and he nodded dumbly, accepting you paying for him.

He looked back at the rack and felt his cheeks heat up, a dumb smile on his face. He was acting as if he were a Highschool teen that had a crush. He couldn’t help but silently giggle to himself as he thought of it, considering it so silly. But he didn’t mind it… He’s always been a sucker for romances. And adding you to the mix only made it worse.

Then suddenly he felt arms wrap around his waist. He froze.

The thing about Asmo is that he knew your touch like the back of his hand. Your touch was soft, warm, any imperfections in your hands he has memorized, practically engraved into his skin.

This was not your touch.

It was cold. Rough. Unfamiliar.

It made him sick.

“Hey there,” the feeling of disgusting hot breath fanned on his beautiful skin, causing his nose to curl in disgust. “You’re the Avatar of Lust, right? Asmodeus? Yknow, I don’t understand how the Celestial Realm could get rid of a prize like you.”

Asmo clenched his fists, ready to toss this disgusting filth into a wall and break all of their limb.

“Oh well, more for us here in the Devildom, right?”

“Hey!”

The sound of your voice was like hearing a heroine arrive in a moment of bleakness. Asmo perked up but immediately felt his heart drop when you stopped over to him and the stranger, anger present on your face. You couldn’t possibly be thinking of attacking the demon, could you? As a human? You’d surely die! Or- Or-

You punched the demon square in the jaw, throwing them into the ground and immediately tackling them. Asmo could only gasp as you used all your strength inside your body to practically tear this demon apart with your bare hands, gritting your teeth and cursing under your breath. To others, you’d look like an unhinged animal, but to him, you couldn’t he anymore beautiful.

A worker came over and ripped you off of the demon, ushering you two to leave with your paid for items in hand.

You were panting as you and Asmo stood there in the street. Asmo was silent as you looked him over.

“You okay?” You asked, grabbing his hand. Your knuckles were cut open and bloody. He felt his heart break seeing your beautiful skin all torn.

“I should be asking you that…” He mumbled, grabbing your hand with a frown. “You didn’t need to do that for me, I’m not fragile…”

“I know this,” you said quickly, but then blushed a little and rubbed the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “I just want to protect you! Cause I’m your attendant!”

“But you’re also human.” He whispered, eyes flickering to the people walking up and down the street.

“I know. But that won’t stop me from doing everything I can to protect you.”

Asmo felt his heart skip a beat at your words, his face further heating up, and he squealed quietly and pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face into your hair as you chuckle.

He loves you. He adores you. He loves you so, so much.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Lamb, I don’t understand why you want to do this for me. As much as I love and appreciate it, I can do my makeup on my own!” Asmo pouted at you as you applied his foundation, softly dabbing the sponge across his face.

You only smile and pick up the brush to apply the red blush on his cheeks. “I know this but I like doing it anyways.”

It had been only a month ago when he asked you to do his makeup once, opting to know how you’d do his makeup and to brag to his brothers at how close the two of you were. But something changed the day you did his makeup. The way you would stop for a moment, staring directly into his eyes. It wasn’t like you were under his hypnosis or influence, he found that you were immune to it, but somehow you acted as if you were completely enamored by him.

And you were.

Even now, you caressed his cheek and would glance into his eyes, so close to him but not close enough. It started to make his heart race, his cheeks burst with color, and hands grow sweaty. It was strange for the Avatar of Lust to act so smitten with a mere human, yet here he was, completely floored for you.

You applied the blush to his cheeks, the bristles tickling his skin and he giggles lightly, unable to keep still in his seat.

“You’re so cute.” He said, wanting badly to just kiss your face, to hold it in his hands, but he had to keep himself still, lest you accidentally apply the blush to his forehead.

You said nothing, grabbing the lipstick, and grabbing his chin gently, as if he were a doll. This gave him a chance to look directly into your own eyes.

He hated it when you applied his lipstick, it forced him to look into those gorgeous eyes of yours and it made him fall even harder than he did previously. He swallowed as you gently moved the lipstick across his bottom lip first, glancing up at him and the way he stared back at you. Your smile only worsened the pounding in his chest. Was the air always this thick?

As you applied to the top lip, he could feel himself drown in the pools of your eyes, like you had his power instead. And the more he stared, the more he didn’t mind being completely miffed by you, being under your control. And it’s even more knowing that as much as he worships you, practically on the verge of kissing your feet, you worshipped him just as much in a way that makes him just want to hold you for eternity.

“Asmo?” Your voice called to him, already done. Though, you didn’t need to do much to enhance his beauty.

“Y-Yes?” He cursed himself for sounding so nervous, demanding confidence. It was so strange how he would become so flustered when it should be the other way around!

“You’re so beautiful…”

He’s heard his many time from others, but from you, it meant more.

To you, the word beauty described his whole being. His soul. His body. His mind. All completely beautiful to you, going past beauty and turning it into something more, something he couldn’t describe. The love in your eyes went beyond his own, somehow, going beyond your years.

All adoring him.

He finds himself tearing up, grasping desperately at your hand tightly, swallowing his spit to hydrate his drying throat.

“I love you.”

Lust was never suppose to love, was it? At least, that’s what he’s heard, as an Angel. Lust was selfish, demanding, carnal and uncaring, but you’ve shown him that it is more than what it was painted. There was a need there, a desire, a craving, an itch you cannot quite scratch. All of it filled him with Love.

You leaned in forward to him, pressing your forehead gently on his, your breath fanning against his lips. He holds your face in his hands, keeping you there in front of him, never taking his eyes off of you.

He begins to realize that Solomon sees this face everyday. To wake up to you everyday.

And he envy’s Solomon. What a lucky man…

“I love you too Asmodeus.”

And it sealed it for him.

He will never crave another body of a demon, human, nor angel as much as he craves you. No one could even compare. All he sees is you.

───────────────

Beelzebub is indifferent towards you, at first he believed he was. All that was on his mind was hunger, which irritated him. He loves food, don’t get him wrong, but the agonizing gnawing that comes with Gluttony is both painful and a nuisance. Though, he’s learned to just deal with it now, given that it’s his sin.

Though his brothers don’t seem to understand when he says he’s hungry. They don’t seem to understand the anger that comes with his Gluttony that claws its way in his stomach. It makes him think of everyone as meat, which scares him a little.

“Hey Beel, is something the matter?” Belphie had asked, albeit sleepily.

It was one afternoon at RAD and Beelzebub was bouncing his knee, gripping his stomach as if he were in pain, and biting his inner lip, trying to make the time go by faster. He looked to his twin.

“I’m hungry.”

Belphie was probably the only one who could understand the pain, if only for a little bit. Though, he wouldn’t understand the entirety, he understood more than the others. He pat Beel on the back to attempt to comfort him, but it didn’t do much.

“Lunch is in a few minutes, big guy, don’t worry.” Belphie said with a sympathetic smile.

Beel tried to smile back but it turned into a grimace as his stomach knotted, almost making him think it was eating itself. Then suddenly, you burst in the room, the professor, long since having stopped the lesson and leaving a few minutes of free time, jumped up at the sudden noise.

You matched over to Beel and opened your backpack, throwing out a bunch of snacks on the table of various Devildom chips and chocolates, a few being your favorites. You were sweating like you were running down the hall at full speed, he could hear your heartbeat pounding.

“Here you go Beel.” You huffed and puffed. You sighed and wiped your forehead. “Sorry! I felt that you were hungry so I ran all the way here when my class was wrapping up the lesson.”

“You… Felt I was hungry?” Beel tilted his head at you, eyeing the various treats and his mouth watered.

“Yeah! It’s like a sixth sense. Or maybe… An either sense? I have various senses for all of your brothers. Like now, I feel like Satan is about to flip his lid.” You giggled a little bit, rubbing the back of your neck.

Beel’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you…” he whispered with a soft smile on his lips, opening up a bag of chips and eating it, he paused when you settled your hand on his head.

“Make sure to eat slowly, okay? I know it’s hard, but savoring it will make the time pass by faster for lunch, okay?”

He nodded mindlessly to you gentle smile, you give Belphie the same headpat, ruffling his already messy hair a bit. He grunted and poured a little but it made you smile even wider, rushing out the room to presumably stop Satan from breaking one of the tables in the classroom again.

Beel stared down at the table filled with snacks, his stomach had stopped its growling, the only sound that filled his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat picking up tempo. Belphie looked to his twin, seemingly sensing what he was feeling.

“You still hungry Beel?”

“Yes…” He gingerly took a chip and ate it slowly, savoring it, like you said. A small smile made its way to his lips. “But not as much anymore.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It’s no secret that you take care of Beelzebub a lot, no secret to his brothers that you have snacks on deck, and it’s no secret that whenever you’re around, his hunger seems to be kind to him and calm down after eating away at him. You’re also soft, which fits the dilemma for him as a soft giant. He towers over his brothers, minus Lucifer, who is only an inch shorter than him (though, he likes to smile at the thought, occasional ideas of holding stuff up to where Lucifer can’t reach, but the last time he did it, he was smacked on the head). Depending on your height, he’s relatively taller than you. But you always have had a hold on him in many ways that he didn’t realize.

It was one night where you and Beel were sitting together in the spare room, a room which you said was “familiar to you,” a similar feeling the brothers all had to the room. Even Belphie, who would sleep there more often than not.

The TV went on while the two of you watched a movie, a random movie that Beel had no opinion to it, just the fact it was new. You seemed to enjoy it, so he kept watching it with you. But he was more focused on the mass amount of popcorn in front of him, all in a huge bowl. He munched away at it, already, half of it was gone. You were next to him.

You then suddenly leaned in closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder, Beel looked at you for a moment and swallowed the popcorn in his mouth. He was hungry still but grabbed a bit of popcorn and held it up to your lips. You mindlessly ate it, not really paying attention to anything other than the movie, or were just in your own world.

Beel smiled and continued to feed you, completely ignoring his own hunger, finding satisfaction in seeing you eat. It was strange, really. He couldn’t explain it. Every time you ate, he would stare, watching you chew and smile a little at the taste of the food, or look blissfully happy whenever you had something you really enjoyed, like the chocolates from Madam Scream’s or their pudding.

That’s when he stopped, realizing that the half filled bowl started to grow smaller, had he been feeding you all this time? You seemed to notice when your mouth finally realized it needed water.

“Thanks for the popcorn, Beel.” You laughed a little pausing the movie. His face grew a little pink.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it. Thank you.”

Beel smiled a little and proceeded to pull you in closer, your back against his chest, his face buried in the side of your neck, holding you close. He wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling burning inside his chest, smelling the scent of your skin. Being near you felt right. The hunger was silenced and he felt full around you, but he couldn’t help but want more of you. You didn’t seem to mind his hold on you, opting to lean back against him and watch the movie, which was nearing its end, but there was no doubt he would continue to hold you even after the movie.

“You want any more popcorn?”

Surprisingly he shook his head and huffed, tightening his grip around you. Not enough to hurt you given his size, just firmly enough to where you can’t move a whole lot.

“Something wrong Beel?“ You ask. Though you know he’s perfectly fine, you just have to be sure. He’s a strong and loving giant, he can be a bit sensitive.

“Mhm. Just wanna hold you…”

You reach your hand up to put your hand to his hair, tilting your head to the side and kissing the side of his head. His arms tightened again, a smile on his face.

He never felt this way before, this much love all for one person. He loves his family and you being apart of it makes it even better. He doesn’t even believe he knows a world where you aren’t apart of it, nor does he ever want to experience it. He doesn’t want to imagine a world where you aren’t in his arms like this, where he doesn’t feed you or eat meals with him and his brothers.

“I love you, MC.”

He blurts it out without even realizing it until he says it, the word love is so sweet on his tongue. He hears you laugh a little. He can feel your heartbeat close to his ear.

“I love you too Beelz.”

After all he’s been through, he never thought he deserved a moment of peace after what he’s lost, but he’s learning to forgive himself. All because of you.

───────────────

Belphie is spoiled. Everyone in the Devildom knows this and everyone in the Celestial realm knows this. Given that he’s the youngest, he’s able to get away with almost anything. Lucifers punishments are akin to a slap on the wrist when it comes to his pranks. Mammon also spoils him rotten, mainly with “mysterious” gifts of soft blankets and pillows and then randomly asking Belphie about them, if he liked them, and trying to justify that is wasn’t him because; “why would I buy somethin’ like that when I can spend it on somethin’ I’d want!” But Belphie isn’t stupid and knows it’s him, but he stops asking if it’s him to keep him quiet so he can nap.

But he’s spoiled brat tendencies never really come out, unless it’s with you.

He pouts and gives you the silent treatment whenever you say you can’t come to the HOL, but quickly gives it up because that takes too much energy when he could spend it talking to you.

He’s also a brat when he comes over to you whenever you are at the HOL and flops himself practically on top of you, smothering you with his body weight, and falling asleep without a care in the world. He’ll only care if you try and get up.

He never was really like this with you, he was mainly indifferent towards you, but after the events of finding out you’re a human and slowly getting closer to you after all that’s happened, he’s was starting to get attached to you, especially when you started cuddling him.

The first time it happened, you had shown up to the HOL to take care of Levi and Asmo fighting this time around, which was surprising since they usually barely even registered one another. It was something about Levi being a shut in and what not, but either way, you took care of it.

You had sat down on the couch after it all, sighing, deciding that maybe you should just pass out from all the running around you had to do. You were an attendant, sure, but you were also a human too, energy tends to deplete faster than you expect.

Belphie suddenly appeared, pillow in arm, eyes all droopy. He’s sleepy, as far as you can tell, but he also looks a bit bitter.

“Move…” He muttered out.

“Pardon?”

“I said move.” He was sounding like a grumpy five year old with how he was acting, a five year old that didn’t have their nap yet.

You snicker at the thought, which made him pout further. You groan. “Just lay your head on my lap if you’re that tired.”

This made him feel wide awake. His eyes widen a fraction. He never really thought about laying his head on your lap. He mainly only ever laid his head on the laps of his brothers, well, mostly by force, unless it’s Beel. Beel is more than happy to let his twin sleep near him. But then there’s you.

Belphie thought for a moment and then sat down on the couch near you, leaning down to put his head in your lap. You sigh and lean your head back again against the cushions of the couch, hearing the crackle of the fire in the living room.

He was stiff until you started running your fingers through his hair and he immediately relaxed, his eyes growing heavy again.

It was strange.

For a moment it felt like time stilled, like all else had disappeared and it left just the two of you.

He’s never felt more warm in the Devildom before when it feel so cold all around him, so unnatural.

But you somehow make his life feel more normal, more like home. He still felt bitter, bitter towards you, mainly being human, he sometimes wishes you were a demon, but the more he thought about the more he never saw you as a demon in the first place. You are far too trusting, empathetic and considerate and a bit of a smart ass while making a few dumb decisions here and there. So perfectly human.

Was this how Lilith felt when she met her human?

Belphie couldn’t help but feel so bittersweet while laying there, head in your lap, hand against your thigh, letting you run your fingers through his hair gently, partly caressing his face.

He shut his eyes and yawned. His yawn affected you, the two of you growing sleepy together. He could feel it too, your drowsiness. His hand inched closer to yours, grabbing it gently, his pointer and middle finger encircling your own lazily.

Belphie smiled and closed his eyes, quickly drifting off into a quiet dream, a dream where it’s just you and him just together. No words needed.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Belphie learned he could enter dreams the night he went into yours by accident.

It was an accident, truly. He didn’t mean to enter it. The two of you were just in the attic space, laying on the plush bed with the hundreds of pillows and blankets, sleeping the day away, when he fell asleep.

His dream, rather your dream, was dark. Just pitch black. It was like being in a silent, dark room, searching for a light, but somehow you could see yourself.

Belphie moved forward, though slowly, like moving through tar. He stopped when he heard light gasping, choking.

He only turned a fraction to his left to see it. A figure, closely resembling himself, holding you by one hand, tightly gripping your throat. Veins pulsed and bulged beneath your skin, even he could feel his face throbbing as the breath escaped you.

Belphie watched in horror.

His heart was racing. His stomach at the pits of whatever darkness was beneath his feet. Hands shaking and body strangely cold.

He hated that look on your face, the tears that streamed down your cheeks, how utterly helpless you looked.

You were his attendant, always so brave in his eyes. Not even wavering against Lucifer’s rage, not once.

And yet you were helpless against this strange, black silhouette that held his image, foggy yet so clear.

Belphie charged at his shadow self and grabbed it, tossing it to the side, forcing it away with whatever sheer will he could muster. It clawed, it snarled like an animal, it cursed and yelled but Belphie shut her ears to the nonsense it was sprouting with clenched fists.

He would never do that to you.

But…

He looked down at you, your gasping form, writhing in agony.

He felt like this happened before.

But why?

He wouldn’t hurt you, he would never hurt you! You loved him, his brothers, Beel! You took care of them, you adored them, you spoiled them rotten, especially him. Your care was gentle as your love was passionate. Why would he ever want to hurt you??

You looked up, fear flashing across your face.

Please… Don’t look at him like that…

Belphie shook himself from the dream, waking up with his head on your chest and body in between your legs. You were somehow still asleep, but with a look of discomfort.

Belphie grabbed your hand, firmly, and sniffled against your shirt, shutting his eyes tightly.

He wanted to give you a good dream, you deserved to have that, at the very least. You, of all people, do not deserve to be tortured senselessly for no reason.

As he rubbed your knuckles with his thumb, mostly to calm himself as he listened to your heartbeat growing steady, he heard you sigh and that discomfort left your face, relaxing into a smile.

Belphie took this moment to let his lower lip quiver and a small cry left his lips and a little sniffle. He let go of your hand.

He needed to go. There’s no way he could be around you if… If there was a chance he ever hurt you.

As he moved, you shifted.

“Belphie?”

He jumped when he heard you call his name, wiping his eyes in a hurried manner.

“You saw, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t a known secret you still had nightmares about that day, albeit rarely. Sometimes it just happens whenever your brain decides to torment you. And these were one of those days. And it was even worse it was with Belphie who really ended up being in your dream, saving you from himself.

His nod only confirmed it, which made your heart break. You sighed and reached for his hand and, just as he grabbed yours, held it firmly.

“…do you really think I’d do that to you…?”

“No. Not now. But would you have when you found out I was human?”

“…I don’t think so? I don’t know.. it was happening so fast then, I don’t see why I would just- just do that. I was a little angry that you lied to me, mostly, but I wouldn’t have-“

“Killed me?”

The word made him flinch. Human mortality was no secret. It never bothered him until now, he never thought about it until now, of how many times you put your life in danger for the sake of his brothers when your life could easily be snuffed out in a blink.

This is how Lilith felt, isn’t it?

“Belphie,” you brought him out of his thoughts. “You guys scare me sometimes, but I know that you won’t actually kill me.”

There’s something that lingers in your eyes that he can’t place. A knowing. You bring your free hand to his cheek and caress it.

“I love you, you know this Belphie.”

Belphie nods with a little ‘mhm’. He feels so pathetic, he should be comforting you, not acting like a little kid. He takes his hand away from you and kneels down in front of you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and burying face in your stomach.

“I’d do anything for you, you know,” he said, a little muffled by the fabric. “You’re everything to us, to me. I’ll throw the whole Devildom upside down if you want me to.”

You chuckle a little. “And not taking a break to sleep?”

“I’d give up sleeping forever if you wanted me to. Id do it if that would make you happy.”

“Woah, don’t need to go that far. I don’t want to torment you!”

“Stop making fun of me, I’m seriously.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. You’re just so cute.”

Belphie blushed and huffed as you continued to lightly chuckle at his words.

“I’m serious. I would do anything you wanted me to. Id cut off my own hands before touching you in a way that hurts you, MC. Just ask me to and Id do it.”

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “I know Belphie, and it won’t come to that. I trust you. Do you trust me?”

“Trust you for what?”

“Trust me to believe in you? In your ability to keep me safe?”

He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. “I trust you.”

“Then there’s no need for promises. Let’s just trust each other, okay? Promises can be forgotten.”

“Not for me, I’ll always remember to cut my hands off if you wanted.”

“Belphie.”

“Kidding.”

“I have a feeling you’re not.”

Belphie smiled into your shirt and giggled a little, letting you pet his hair.

Whatever that was in your dream, whether it was him or not, he’d be damned again to the deepest, darkest pits of the Devildom before ever hurting you or making you cry.

[calciumcryptid]

I know we all talk about Phum and his experiences with his childhoods neglect, but gods does Fang make me eat the drywall because there are so many implications about how it affected him too.

We don't know much about Phum and Fang's elder brother beyond a name and their mother asking Fang about how he has been doing, but I think that says a lot about the family and their connection. An elder brother who, going off the picture, doesn't seem much older than Fang and Phum who probably got out of dodge as soon as he could but in doing so left Fang and Phum alone in that house.

Fang who navigated international lines to talk to his scared crying younger brother and (probably) sent Phum plushies as a substitute for his company, but was only about a year or two older so he didn't realize it could never make up for the real thing.

Fang who knows how to make spaghetti and not much else because sometimes his parents forgot to leave money for groceries/takeout and he has to feed his younger brother because he is the only other parental figure despite being a year or two older and shouldn't have been unsupervised in the kitchen.

Fang who in high school punched his future-boyfriend in the face, because of course he did when he has been nothing but the peacekeeper in his household and a guy has been rude to him and he needs to let go of some of that bitterness and resentment and man doesn't Tan look punchable?

Fang who watched Phum get into fights too and emulate his behavior but he can never be mad at Phum because it isn't his fault no one bothered to check on the rich family's kids. Then Phum would emulate him further when he fell for the kid who kicked him in the nuts, but Fang can't even complain because Peem is the best thing to happen to his little brother.

Fang who went into architecture and keeps his grades up probably because his parents wanted him to go into business and having high grades is the only way to prove that he is doing what is best.

Fang who freaked out when his attentive boyfriend didn't respond to his calls and messages because his worst fears are confirmed and Tan is going to leave him just like his parents just like his elder brother- but Tan never left and continues to be his safe place.

Fang who was set up as the peacekeeper in his family, a bridge between Phum and their parents. Fang still living with their parents and constantly trying to get Phum to play nice because of course Fang is doing that because he wasn't the one abandoned in another country but also he got the bare amounts of attention that kept him strung along for more and to doesn't matter that his parents only seem to ask about his elder brother or his grades or talk about their own work because every once and while they pay attention to him.

Fang who will come to the realization the only love he values is Phum's, Tan's, and his news friends (which his parents didn't even realize he had) and how he will move out into a new place with Tan and cut off contact and it will be hard but it will be worth it because when he is married and adopted two kids and his kids ask about their grandparents on his side he'll give them a small smile and say they passed away decades ago even though he doesn't know if that is true but doesn't care to find out.

[captain-mj]

Are we gonna get a part four for love potion pretty please I‘m eating drywall right now

Of course!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Soap went into the woods that night with Ghost to search for the beast. Well, that’s why Ghost invited him. He was collecting some of the ingredients for Roach. And then he did it the next night. And the next. Eventually, it had been two full cycles of the moon. 

Ghost had become slightly more lax around him. Not much, but if his armor exposed some of his skin or he just didn’t know what to say, he let Soap know. He joked with Soap. Soap was pretty sure he smiled at him. He swore he heard it in his voice. 

Right now, Ghost casually took off his mask. This far away from his beloveds, his eyes were normal. His hair had been cut a bit shorter since they had last talked. Soap wanted to draw him. Or kiss his freckles. Or both. “Hungry?” 

If he had less of a filter, he would’ve said yes, for him. The time together did not do him any favors. Instead of finding flaws with him, something to convince him that his crush is stupid. All it did was make him want him more and more. Sometimes all he wanted was to press his face against Ghost’s neck. 

If he was honest, with all of his spare time being used for Roach as well, he had a similar feeling. He wanted to press against him, kiss him breathless.

It was a good thing neither wanted him as it would impossible to ever choose. 

Soap nodded. “I could eat.” He pulled his bag out and sat down to lean against a tree. He expected Ghost to pick a different tree to sit at but instead, he sat right next to Soap, thighs almost pressed together. “We do this for how long, sir? Won’t Lord Roba miss you?”

“He’s found his time with me.” Ghost sighed. “Always does.” He stole a piece of the goat cheese Soap had and popped it in his mouth. 

Soap watched him, fascinated with how his teeth chewed through things. He took a piece of the fruit Ghost had and ate it quietly. 

Memories faded. That was part of the passage of time. But that night had been sealed into his brain. Ghost in the throes of pleasure, head tilted back, mouth open. Soap knew he could do better than them. With no spell, he was sure he could do better by Ghost. 

Maybe it was a bit of a wicked thought.. Especially with what he knew Ghost went through. But God that did not help his feelings for him. He wanted to kiss him desperately. To touch him. Run his fingers through his hair. Press against him. 

“Finds time?”

“In the morning. Today he decided to get my time before I left.” 

Soap glanced at him, biting his jealous back. Now that he pointed it out, Soap could see the bites right at the edge of his collar. “Hmm. And when do you sleep?”

Ghost laughed. “I don’t sleep.”

“Elf thing?”

“Ghost thing. Never slept well. Especially not now a days.” Ghost closed his eyes. 

“Did they do something that hurts?”

Ghost paused and glanced at him. “Why do you care?”

“I want to know if you’re hurt.” Soap answered honestly. 

He seemed to accept that answer as he nodded and looked away again. “Some cuts on my thighs. I can move just fine. My fault?”

“How was it your fault?”

Ghost finished his food and sighed. He glanced at him. “Haven’t found the thing yet. They’re punishing me until I find it.” 

Soap nodded. “We’ll find it.” Or he’d die trying. He hated the idea of Ghost being punished for the crime of not being able to track a creature that might not even exist. 

Ghost sighed. “I hope we don’t. I can take it. It’s just a creature following it’s nature. Doesn’t deserve to die for that. I’m used to being hurt.”

“You joked about eating it.”

“I’ll make the most of it if we do. I won’t hesitate to kill it. But… I don’t want to. I stopped wanting to hurt anyone a long time ago.” Ghost smiled and closed his eyes. 

Soap swallowed and chose to sit in silence with that. He looked at him, wanting to kiss him. 

Simon looked at him. Soap could feel the difference. Something changed from one second to another. “Johnny.”

“Simon, do you think if we were miles away, things would be different?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we were somewhere else, miles removed from everything, what would you do?” 

Ghost thought about it for a minute. “I’d go home to Roba and Pilar as soon as I could.” 

Soap felt his heart break. “Ah. I see. Let’s keep going.” 

Ghost nodded and got up, pulling his mask back on. 

The two of them ventured further out and Soap looked for the last two ingredients on his list. Something from Ghost and foxgloves. They had something to do with deception and the breaking of it. 

Soap had no clue how he was going to get something from Ghost. He did tell Ghost he was looking for foxglove. When asked why he’d need foxglove, he fumbled before just awkwardly explaining they were his favorite.

Ghost had stared at him for a minute before they continued through the night. As the moon started to set, Soap realized it was another night without the plant he needed and another day where Ghost would be punished for not finding this fucking thing. 

Soap sighed as they circled the entire town. “Guess we’ll have to call it a night, Simon.” He turned around and paused. 

Ghost had a bundle of foxglove out. “Here. I passed some earlier.” 

Soap swallowed and took it slowly. “Thank you.” 

Ghost nodded and left him alone there. Soap looked at the flowers in his hand and swallowed thickly. His hand came up slowly to touch the buds. 

It took him a long time to walk away from that spot as his head spun. But eventually he did. He went straight to Roach. 

Roach who beamed when he saw him. Roach who always let him stay longer than he needed to. 

Roach who took the foxglove and noticed an important detail. 

Ghost had used his handkerchief to hold the stems together. 

“Everything I need.”

[aroanthy]

thinking about nanami and touga both telling utena not to trust anthy at the end of the series. whilst nanami and anthy being friends is something that makes me bawl like a little baby and overjoys me immensely, ive never bought a reading of nanami post-32 that is anthy positive. like idk how you could get that impression when all she does is talk about how anthy is a terrible and dangerous person. she’s scared of her. and you know she shouldn’t be, but it’s understandable why a 13 year old living in ohtori academy might be scared of someone she already didn’t like after finding out something deeply traumatic regarding them and not having the tools to make sense of it in a compassionate way. and it makes me want to eat drywall

what’s really interesting about all this to me tho is how both kiryuus tell utena not to trust ‘the chairman/end of the world or himemiya anthy/the rose bride’. anthy and akio are a package deal of toxicity and harm to both of them and if that isn’t just the most fascinating thing ever. also the difference between nanami’s ‘chairman/himemiya’ and touga’s ‘end of the world/rose bride’ (nanami giving her warning during the badminton scene, touga giving his at the end of his duel. so much going on here wrt roles and settings and rituals and reality). but getting back to my real point isn’t it so cool (agonising) how nanami and touga are incapable of extending compassion or understanding to anthy despite the fact that they’re the two people who know the most about her other than utena and akio. and like. they don’t know a Lot, but theyve both had a smidge of insight into an abusive relationship that mirrors aspects of their own lives in myriad ways

idk something about the rose bride as a symbol who bears all of humanity’s hatred. and in the end all girls are like the rose bride yes, but key word here is like. an approximation; all trapped, all agonised, yes, but not all literally fucking crucified for eternity by a million swords that shine with human hatred. not abstracted in such a particular and insidious way. i always find anthy/kiryuu parallels compelling wrt issues of race and class and mannnnnn. nanami takes a step away from the duelling game. she’s not out, but she’s not actively partaking, not actively being exploited. touga, whilst a little more overtly involved in stuco business and still meeting with akio, does also take a step away. like, they’re both able to do that. it’s a bit of an artifice, sure, they’re still here, but oh my god oh my god oh my god. theyre not anthy. am i making sense can anyone hear me holy shit

i think what im trying to say is that for everything that both nanami and touga learn about ohtori academy and the people living in it, for everything that forces them to self-reflect and question the ground that they stand upon, they fail to break the chain with it. like, they too contribute to anthy’s abstraction. she’s an idea that they secretly embody/emulate (not sure which word works better for what im trying to say just yet), and not a person who shares experiences with them but is still wholly separate from them. this kind of compassion is like. it’s too hard, when you’re in the situations that all three of them are in. anthy too perceives both of them as nonhuman, but there is a crucial power dynamic at play here. how can you stomach such a kindness to someone you can only see as a poor imitation of the worst parts of yourself, whom you loathe??

^ THIS GUY loves it when characters commit acts of extreme violence against one another that they themselves have experienced. the nanamianthytouga brand

[aroacettorney]

on casey selmore & ludger cherish:

the more i read into the novel, the more i wanna scream at the manhwa for missing out the context for caseys grievance over moriarty/ludger, and thus making the readers think she is annoying for it. despite their rivalry/bickering before moriarty was deep into the things™️, considering caseys personality, she still prolly saw moriarty as her best friend (or someone who gets her the most). and if my best friend suddenly changed 180° and became a notorious villain, yet still trying to save me when we were supposed to be nemesis, i as someone whose whole career is pursuing the truth would also wanna chase them into the end of earth and make them confess their reasons. ludger's assessment of casey obsessively chasing him out of her pride may contain a part of truth, but i find it unfair to say that's her whole deal. (if you are familiar with ace attorney, i dont think its incorrect to say their relationship after falling out is similar to phoenix wright and miles edgeworth after DL-6.)

spoilers for 268+: i personally dont think casey was at fault for falling for moriartys bit when for his whole life lying is his whole expertise and the gods also bless him with auto crits on deception.

spoilers for 356+: i do hate that casey was the one who ended up apologizing when between the two, ludger was clearly in the wrong. i suppose at the time it made sense since casey needed ludgers forgiveness for closure and full mental recovery, so i wont dwell much on this.

spoilers for 497+: since ch268, casey was the only one actively trying to mend their relationship while it became clear and clearer in ch497 that ludger was the one actively pushing her away. i think after the moriartys bit, ludger ended up seeing himself as someone who is irredeemable and one day poetic justice will become his downfall. based on ludgers past behaviors during their reichenbachs falls and now his last convo with casey, he seems to be building casey up to be his executioner. i dont wanna say this is end game foreshadowing or ludgers death flag but fuck if thinking about it doesnt make me screaming crying throwing up eating drywall.

[velvees-archive]

TGAA 1-1 Spoilers (Live React)

*with spoilers for AA first and second trilogy

finished the first case for the great ace attorney. verdict? i really enjoyed myself. playing tgaa feels like a reintroduction to the ace attorney games that hooked me in the first place.

musings under the cut!

i wasn’t supposed to start my tgaa playthrough until next year bc i wanted to give myself space to be a functioning human being + write ace attorney fic…but then my brother begged me and i am an older sibling before i’m anything else, i guess, so here we are.

first case’s logic was pretty sound. it’s the tutorial so i wasn’t expecting anything groundbreaking. coming from someone who tackled the aa trilogies + aai duology first, the lack of “scientific” autopsy reports adds tension to the courtroom battles that does wonders for increasing stakes. i’m intrigued and a little overwhelmed at the idea of watching passive witnesses during cross-examinations. in a good way, i think. like taking apollo’s perceive ability and loading it with crack and a bit more realism.

there’s some character bloat bc we technically exposed two criminals. nothing too jarring, though it does make the case stretch. leaving the murderer’s motive unexplored reminds me very much of aa4. this case felt like an amalgamation of the dahlia and kristoph trials. two thumbs up!

i remember reading somewhere that shu takumi had a hard time writing apollo bc he’d already exhausted his creativity writing phoenix. clearly that wasn’t a problem when it came to fleshing out ryunosuke bc his character is very discernible from the former, and written in such a refreshing way that you can’t help but be endeared by him. make no mistake though. the real star of this case is his defense counsel/best friend: kazuma asogi.

oh my god he makes me wanna eat drywall

they put him front and center in this case. a captivating design, a sheathed katana, and a headband that defies the laws of physics makes for an eye catching character. that among uh..

other……….aesthetic-related considerations.

i didn’t mind the 3D models in spirit of justice very much (don’t look, dd phoenix, trucy, and apollo can’t hurt you) but capcom evidently hit their stride with the tgaa models because! because!!!!

bro.

setting aside the fact that the two main characters constantly reaffirm their friendship plus kazuma calls ryunosuke partner no joke 10+ times throughout the trial, i am loving the implication that ryunosuke very well could have been found guilty had he chosen not to defend himself. kazuma’s ‘oh how sad, you didn’t believe i could get you off’ hit a little too close to home. for narrative reasons i hope they turn that into resentment. they probably won’t though.

the central theme here is belief in your client. at some point during the trial, kazuma throws in the towel, but ryunosuke doesn’t. is this not good set up for a best friend-turned-rival/enemy plot point?

kazuma seems like your typical justice-oriented defense attorney but i am sensing something very dark about him that may or may not be proven correct as i continue playing. he says something about proving a client innocent by all means necessary or something close to that effect. im guessing that isn’t a good thing if dd has anything to say abt the phrase.

as of writing this, i’ve just finished up the whole case and kazuma’s got a secret mission + a deep fascination with ryunosuke’s talent for pointing out contradictions…yeah ok this guy has to be an antagonist in the making right? right???

please don’t actually spoil me, i am shooting theories into the dark bc i derive enjoyment from being proven right or wrong

at the very least, kazuma isn’t as honest as he makes himself out to be. i have a sneaking suspicion this guy is going to pull the wool over my eyes one way or another.

theories be damned, though, i’m interested to see how shu takumi will balance having 2 best friends/defense attorneys in this game. i’m mindful of bloat but cautiously optimistic that he can make it work, unlike whatever the hell took place in the apollo justice trilogy.

i’m still doing my ace attorney first trilogy + aai duology replay so my blog posts are going to be an odd mix of everything. sorry abt that…

tl;dr we are sooooo back

[sparkdoesart]

I took a sniff of you once. Stinkiest thing I ever smelled. Smelled like layers upon layers of cat. *Stinky* cat. There was something else, with it, too… It had an *edge.* I mean, apart from the stinky cat smell. I mean, you are a stinky cat. So the smell of a stinky cat is the smell of a stinky cat plus this edge, right? A set can contain more than the set is itself or something. I don’t know mathematics. Anyway, this *edge…* there were lemon. Orange. Tangerine. Citrus, citrus, citrus… that was the strongest part of the edge- no, no, no. Not citrus. *Acid*.* there was some citrus in the edges yes, but it was more general acid. Like stomach. Like vinegar, mmm vinegar… like hydrochloric. Say, have you ever had your arm eaten off by acid? Hurts like hell, doesn’t it. At least you can go get a new one at the acid refund shop. God, where would we be without those guys… I got a new arm from them once. Fucked up my claws. Returned to them and said ‘hey you fucked up my claws’ and they were like ‘ok and’ and I was like ‘can I get a new one’ and they were like ‘sorry no refunds’ and I was like ‘yeah but that’s what you do you give refunds’ and they were like ‘we don’t refund our own refunds’ and so anyway that’s the story of how I ended up with claws made out of plastic and wood and, I don’t know was it wolf fur? It was some type of fur I took it to a seasoned taxidermist about a year after they got my claws wrong and they said it was wolf fur. But I’m not ahundy cent sure. Anyways that on my right arm for a week. And then I was like ‘fuck it this hurts’ and grew new ones. Have you seen my claws? I think you have. They’re beautiful aren’t they. Real pieces of work. Did you know I often break into people’s houses in the middle of the night and graffiti their drywall with my super awesome claws? Sure, I get implicated in the odd home invasion case but it really is fun to hear about all the people who have stuff like ‘gorm’ and ‘gorp’ and ‘gort’ and ‘gorg’ and ‘gorb’ clawed into their wall. Have you done anything similar? I know you’re mischievous and all that — all cats are, aren’t they? I mean, look at Rico. He sure is a piece of work. He once chewed my leg of. Couldn’t go to the acid refund shop as he’s not an acid. I mean he could be. He could have acid in those cute lil fangs of his but that’s beside the point. Anyway I could go there because he’s presumably not acidic. So I had to spend the energy to regrow it, you know how it is. Except every night he’s come in, take a little nibble out of my regrowing leg. An he kept at this for *years*. So instead of the usual sixth months, I was a leg down for 8 years. God, to think I’ve known rico for twice that amount… anyways, once it was done he told me about it and we laughed it off. Good prank, too. Rico also once threw me into deep space. I was out on a spacewalk, he cut the tether, the rest is history… I was out there floating for about two months. Before I got a lift from some guy in a Honda Civic. Don’t know how he got it spaceworthy, but it was comfortable enough. Those two months were nice too, got to spend all that time looking at the stars as I slowly tumbled through them. Now I know all my star charts. Also solved plinko, but that’s a story for another time. Where were we? Mischievous cats! June is a cat, isn’t she? Well. *Some* of the time at least. Do you know June? She’s a real banger. Loves eating all your files and laughing maliciously. I opened a message from her once on my phone and it got straight up haunted and floated away. Never saw that phone since. No idea how she did it, either. She might’ve possessed it for all I know. Also hear her laughing sometimes when I’m in my bed. Her laughs carry really far, y’know? Anyways. You. You you you you. Ruffles your head. Pats you vigorously. You’re also a piece of work. You *make* pieces of work. You’re a pretty damn good artist. You draw ghost with those sad wet eyes. You should give yourself a pat on the back. Or I mean since I’m already patting you I could do it for you. Anyways. Do you have any spare human souls? Like f

(Will do part 2 in a moment)

A very nice conversation :]

[teruthecreator]

Had to get this out of my system! your recent Peter/Roger fic has me in SHAMBLES oh my GOD!! it's really really good. making me eat drywall good. thanks for posting it I'm gonna explode maybe

yayyyyy im so glad you enjoyed!!!! post-dlc i definitely have thoughts about those two and their dynamic. i believe in a world where beautiful polyamorous marriage can happen for phones (because we’re NOT leaving caroline out of this)

i dont think id ever write a sequel to this fic, but i do imagine after that night caroline visits more and the pair help roger get back on his feet (maybe even let him move into their house, since his apartment is so disastrous and would be difficult to navigate given his injury.) the rock ending is still the most bleak ending to me at least, but i think there is hope for roger despite it.

anyway, thanks for reading!

[kirby-rarepair-tourney]

Round 5!

THE END IS NIGH: Taransusie VS Dametaberge VS Flamsoos!

Which of these is rarer, and which of these is pairer? Vote now for the ultimate Kirby rarepair!

Whoever receives the fewest votes is eliminated, and the final two enter the finals together!

Propaganda:

Taransusie

They both lost people in ways that it could be argued that it’s their fault, so they could both help each other through it. Plus, they have the opposites attract vibes too by one being pro plants and the other not.

There's only like 3 fics with them and I'm starving. They have the same situation where they lost a loved one that barely resembled the person they used to be by the time of their death, a corruption caused by something beyond their control, but also were involved in it. They both share grief and guilt, and could work on it together, Susie being more stoic and Taranza being way too open with his emotions, they balance eachother out. Also, girlboss x wet paper husband, enough said

I think they have a lot in common and could help each other heal some… they make me want to eat drywall

Dametaberge

Consider these dolts. These absolutely 0 braincelled, fight-obsessed morons. Similar swords? Would fight each other at a Denny's parking lot? Possibly going fully feral in the fight?? Yes! to all of that! Their language is vitriol. Every insult is a compliment to them. Every violent threat is a promise of a good time. They would not kiss under a mistletoe they would clash blades under a mistlethorn. This is their way of expressing passion for each other. For their dates and anniversaries they find secluded areas and duke it out to their furthest limits for hours. They push each other to make each other better. They go to their respective zeniths and beyond in the purest display of passion for each other and their drive to improve through the other. Is that not love in itself?

[Added by Poll Runner] Oh my god, they're adorable! Two hot-headed fiery fellas are already a fantastic duo! Both of them are so enthusiastic and fight-ready, and they perfectly could bounce off each other! Flam can make Dameta feel like his own person outside of his reflection and his relationship to the mirror, and he can show her so much more outside of her religion! Also personal hc but I imagine they both have very weird relationships with death and that's always a fun couple activity!

Flamsoos

I think they're cute. Flamberge is the Mage Sister that would most help Susie get out of her comfort zone and grow, IMO

[Added by Poll Runner] Total opposites attract~! Fiery tomboy and cold cutesie girl~! It's amazing the way they could show each other new perspectives - Susie warms up and learns to be kinder, Flam learns an appreciation for tech and such!

[lilacpaperbird]

no one asked but here is a list of my favorite samdean fics, in no particular order:

streams and side alleys - thecapn

- Summary: AU. Dean grows up in the backseat of a 1967 Chevy Impala. Sam grows up in foster care.

- 55,205 words

- Okay I lied I said this list had no particular order but this is actually my favorite samdean fic. I can't even put into words why. Just thinking about it makes me emotional. Beautifully written.

- Link

Buy You a Mockingbird - candle_beck

- Summary: A genuine horror story.

- 10,272 words

- A four words long summary and no tags. I don't want to say much because going in blind is the best thing you can do. Outsider's point of view. Incredibly well written. One of those fics I'll never forget

- Link

Pine Sweat - applecrumbledore

- Summary: Sam watched Dean hack up firewood with his hatchet. The magically-induced heat wave had his shirt soaked with sweat.

“Did you ever have a, uh… experimental phase?” Sam smacked his lips, trying to think of a diplomatic way to phrase it. “That kid—by which I mean you—has been staring. At me. Kind of a lot.”

(Sam and Dean get sent back to 1996 and go on a hunt with their teenaged selves. The kids don't know who they are.)

- 105,325 words

- I mean if you haven't read anything by applecrumbledore yet what are you doing with your life ! This fic was so much fun to read, I was completely hooked from the very beginning. The angst, the smut, the characterizations... soo good. I'll re-read it soon

- Link

Series: Drywall Dust, Talk Aroud It, & Nothing Ruined - applecrumbledore

- Summaries:

1. Drywall Dust: "Did you fuck my math teacher?" Sam hissed. Dean raised his eyebrows. "I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

2. Talk Around it: “It’s just a truth spell,” Sam tried. “It could be worse.” Dean looked at him like he was stupid.

“Yeah, thank God we don’t have a giant, life-ruining secret that we really, really don’t want our dad knowing. Good thing he’s not on his way here right this second.” He scoffed. “Could be worse. Jesus. Good to know you can still lie.”

3. Nothing Ruined: Sam told Dean about Stanford on a freezing Saturday morning in February, curled together under the blankets on a pullout bed in a flea-bitten apartment in northern Montana, when John was three weeks and half a country away.

- 40.923 words in total

- I laughed I cried and I adored the smut what else could you ask for. Again, anything this author writes is soooo good! [*there's a fourth part in this series but I personally prefer to see it as a trilogy and the last part as a separate fic]

- Link

Brittle - thecapn

- Summary: Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

- 30,027 words

- If you like to read about sam having an ed this is the fic for you. Ofc keep in mind the triggering potential of this topic as it is a central part of the story. Very sad but it has a happy hopeful ending. The story starts when they're younger, pre-series (pining!sam but no weecest) and then spans over several seasons. There's a really short second part that's so good too

- Link

The Last Outpost of All That Is - gekizetsu

- Summary: The world is over, and it’s a Winchester’s lot in life to cope with anything – no matter what.

- 59,037 words

- If you like stories about apocalyptic situations that focus on how the characters manage to survive and reconstruct their lives you'll love this. I was literally glued to this fic from beginning to end. So so so good

- Link

The Ballad of the Invisible Boy - dollylux

- Summary: This is a story of adolescence. This is a love letter for the slow burn, for Led Zeppelin, for the 90s. This is the first of two sets of stories about how Sam and Dean didn’t fall in love. They never had to. It was always there, this desperation between them, like a real, breathing thing. When they came together, it was inevitable. As sure as continents colliding, as the phases of the moon and the life and death of stars. This isn’t a love story, but it’s a story of love.

- 57,490 words

- I mean. What can I say about TBOTIB that hasn't been said already. A classic. Life-altering. [The second part (Two-Headed Boy – 205,783 words) is extremely good too]

- Link

[beliscary]

ok yet again seized by love for riku in the keyblade graveyard but "Without them, I'm worthless."/"You don't believe that. I know you don't." 💯 💯 💯 YES the fact that it's not about riku believing in sora (we know he does. this is not new information.) (he's about to die in two seconds anyway, rendering whatever that belief is worth uh. moot.) (ok I know I'm being glib but.)

instead of making it about the other people who believe in or rely on sora (who has been cracking under that particular pressure for several games now), riku reframes this moment to be about sora believing in himself, about him having worth with or without the support of friends. which is more enduring. and also makes me eat drywall bc its a reversal of the way riku himself tore sora down in hollow bastion back during kh1. sora fought his way back with a toy sword then. riku knows that strength is in him. You Don't Believe That. god.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

ALSO. 43, 47, 48 and (because im mad that its not an option): what do you like BEST about your own writing?

i'm not answering 43 yet bc ros ALSO asked that one!!!! so it will get answered just not in this ask bc i don't want 2 answer the same one twice

47. What fanfic of yours is truly underrated?

OOH OOH!!! There's A Stranger In Town and A Gas Station In The Middle Of Utah!!! i love my Eriks poem so fucking much even though I was super hesitant to post it at first. holding erisk gently in my hands <3 ALSO GAS STATION ATTENDANT WILBUR!!! GRABBING HIM IN MY TEETH AND FLINGING HIM AROUND. i love my gas station fic it's soooo good. Neither of them got many hits or comments which is SO sad because i put my whole PUSSY into writing those two and they are among some of my favs <3

48. What is your favorite sentence that you’ve used in a fanfic?

hmmm very hard to pin down one exact sentence, especially like out of context, but i think one of my fav passages from one of my fics is at the end of Moonlight Smoke, my c!tntduo soulmate fic. like. "Fate has given him a second chance. At life or love, it doesn’t matter. He will not waste it." GIRL IDK WHAT I WAS ON WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS BUT I WAS COOKIN FR. the pure gay yearning mixed with elation of being alive in those three sentences alone. girl. the crowd goes fucking crazy. the crowd is now foaming at the mouth. the crowd is eating drywall. the author is also eating drywall

What do you like most about your own writing?

MMMMMMAC why would u make me compliment myself >:((( AUGH PAIN anyway i suppose ummmmmmmmm. hmmm. dialogue. definitely dialogue. i love writing in the characters' voices ESPECIALLY IN DREAMSTUCK OH MY GOD the chatlogs are so incredibly fun!!! and i also love writing dialogue during dramatic or emotional moments, especially with like. characters who wear a metaphorical mask, like vash, wolfwood, logan sanders, AND LINK TOTK!!! because it's not what they SAY it's what they DON'T SAY. and you can imply what they're saying by having them NOT say things. but it's There. and i think i'm pretty good at like. pulling those unsaid things out and letting them Sit there. they're not saying the words but the words are There. agh i love doing that i love it so so so much

[00towns]

2023: media in review

The Secret History by Donna Tartt 

I read the Goldfinch earlier this year and enjoyed it immensely, and The Secret History came to me as the natural next pick by recommendation of P. I tucked into the book in the waning days of the summer, and read it in overflowing fistfuls on the train, bus, and at my desk. 

I expressed once, in a memory of that same but very different summer that I recall very sharply, that it feels like I have not eaten drywall in quite the same way that I have since I was a teenager. We were in the car, heading back to DC from the Northern Neck. I was driving, which always seems to make the things that I say sling a little looser than they might usually. I remember feeling like I was testing the waters – part of eating drywall is always, of course, the tentative, desperate fear that no one else has. 

To me, this is the term that most closely encapsulates the feeling of obsessive fandom behavior that is an almost hyperphysical, overstimulating sensation of fixation on something. I first heard the word from S, who tossed it out in a conversation about our individual yet parallel media consumption viruses almost on a whim, but I remember feeling like I had understood it instantly. There is something so eating drywall about the sensation of eating drywall, perhaps contained in the implication of being locked in a room alone, where all rightful, God-fearing fandom behavior should occur, perhaps in the suggestion of a quiet, personal insanity that isn’t containable by any words except going up to the edges of your enclosure and just starting to chew. 

The point that I mean to make is as follows: I think The Secret History is the closest I have felt to the type of unerring, self-evident obsession that I characterize to being a teenager. In a way, the book doesn’t even particularly deviate from the types of tropes that would have made up one of those quintessential franchises (Richard is decidedly Teen Wolf-y at moments), and yet I feel drawn to it because it is such a strong example of an originator text that made way for all the hedonistic, trope-y delights of its contemporaries, and therefore is able to do so without the limitations of more modern cliche or platitudes. The book is indulgent in references to philosophy and Greek mythology, but a shining moment to me is in Julian, who upon discovering the unsettling circumstances around Bunny’s death, reacts with a perverse interest. The moment feels like a meta-reference to the reader themselves, who is having the same experience of hunger for story and desperation for plot despite it all. That – the macabre of searching for the next thing to eat drywall over – is also something to contend with as I consume, and consume. 

I ended up discussing the book with P and K a few months later, who I had originally broached the eating drywall with. It was interesting hearing their thoughts on the book and revisiting parts that I had remembered, and slowly reflecting together that this book is really, really excellent. It was strange that it took this long to solidify to me the novel as good as it was, and I can’t help but think that this campus novel about a coastal elite friend group is perhaps best enjoyed with two friends who were part of my own experience of a parallel setting, and who made the novel’s wry criticism cut all the more deeply. 

I’ve been up to my ears in Japanese study lately, and in these moments where I struggle through basic interactions I’m additionally grateful for the simple gift of incredibly crafted English prose, and that I have the ability to appreciate it. 

Recommended double feature:

Interview with the Vampire (1994)

Interview with the Vampire (2022)

NCT 127 – Fact Check (The 5th Album) 

Entergalactic 

I know that another Spiderverse movie came out this year, but my deep desire to appear introspective prevents me from putting a Marvel IP on my list of favorite things this year (and a sequel, at that), so I’ll put instead another favorite animated film from this year. 

Entergalactic is Kid Cudi’s visual companion film to his eighth studio album, and was the first work of his that I’ve ever engaged with. I knew nothing about the Entergalactic concept itself except for the hoodie, and didn’t even find out that the film was a visual album until I had finished it and was looking it up. With a runtime of just over an hour and a half, the film not only covers a lot of thematic ground but also highlights the story of the album in a both visually and sonically interesting way. 

Now, quite a few months after watching it, what I remember in most vivid detail is the main character Jabari and his relationship with his original character. Mr. Rager is partly Jabari’s inner voice and partly his own mouthpiece. Originating in the street art space, Jabari’s creative roots personified through this character follow him even as he rides his bicycle through psychedelic music cuts and the comic book-style animated streets of New York City into the ritzy hallways of the expensive apartment he lives in. Through the act of packaging him up into a replicable, handheld, consumer art, Jabari loses touch to the protest and rebellion tradition that made way for Mr. Rager but gains the socioeconomic mobility and upwards trajectory that allows him to meet his love interest in the story and experience creative growth. 

Criticism of Entergalactic has said that the project is a visual album attempting to be a fully fleshed-out animated film, and not much advancement to the characters or story actually takes place. I’ll disagree by saying this: with music as medium, the meandering between the love story, the inquiry into the creative economy, and quotidian New York City is what makes it so successful as an extended exploration of the music video form, making the album and film both more interpretable in conversation with each other. I think this is part of the reason that the film appealed to me so much. I love music videos, and Entergalactic blows up the parameters of a typical one, allowing the story of the album to shine while still showcasing an aesthetic appeal of the music. The additional story embedded by the film elements, along with Kid Cudi’s own involvement through the entire production project, lends a sense that the film is Kid Cudi doing interpretive work on his own art. It’s both a visual and auditory feast, and comes with my high recommendation for coastal elite, POC Spiderverse enjoyers. 

Recommended double feature:

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse 

Beef 

After this weekend’s disaster at the Golden Globes, Anthony Christian Ocampo tweeted something along these lines: this is what happens when representational politics in Hollywood do exactly what they’re intended to do. I’ll try to add my own thoughts to his words: it’s the inevitable platforming of some of the worst Asian Americans you’ve ever met. 

I struggle to use these words to describe Beef because of just how against a politics of representation the story of the series is, but they still apply to the media environment that it was raised in and the allegations (and inactions) that followed the series’ release. Asian Americans are allowed to be terrible, bad, awful people on screen; sometimes, the people playing them are too. 

Representation aside, which I must mention annually at least in passing or I’ll die, Beef is really, really good. Ali Wong’s character takes up Koyohaus like the brand itself is its own being, and I find the idea echoing in my head constantly, especially back at home this winter break in Chantilly and Centreville’s new Asian American yuppie cafes, shoppy shops, and restaurants. Perhaps a bit grossly, I was moved by the cultural anxiety of the things lost with generational upwards social mobility and increasingly esoteric taste, a trait which I share with many of my friends but not much of my family. The show’s depiction of the intersection of East Asian American white adjacency and coastal elite consumer arts makes my skin crawl. I love it. 

As we see spring 2024 syllabi for ‘bad Asians’ proliferate on Twitter and laud projects like Beef and Joy Ride (which comes to mind not a representation of bad Asians per se but perhaps a representation of Asians that is bad) for their distortion of representational politics with ‘bad representation’, I wonder how we can think of those whose actual poor behavior and continual platforming have simultaneously undermined and advanced the open-ended possibilities of ‘bad representation’, and if so, if we can consider cultural productions machines like Hollywood as working in any way except as intended. 

Recommended double feature:

It’s not out yet but I’m going to say the Mr. and Mrs. Smith reboot with Donald Glover and Maya Erskine 

The Book of Mormon 

When Ina and I walked out of the Eugene O’Neill Theater, she admitted to having some anxiety about our seats. We had bought them earlier that same day, meaning they were off to the side of the stage and not next to each other but adjacent in different rows. A kind woman instead offered us the empty one next to her, saying her family had caught COVID and weren’t going to be attending. 

‘If we hadn’t moved, I was going to ask you to sit in front of me,’ Ina had said. 

‘I probably would have blocked your view.’ 

‘But I wanted to see your reactions.’

I would leave it to her to know me better than anyone else, because I hadn’t had quite the visceral reaction to anything in a long time as I had to The Book of Mormon. I went into the show blind, if you can consider growing up around a lot of Mormons and surviving several intensely awkward proselytization attempts ‘blind’, and had no clue of exactly what kind of parody was awaiting me. The Book of Mormon had me scream-laughing, bodily reacting, and probably exhibiting some extremely poor Broadway etiquette. At the same time, the show is so technically and logistically intense that I was blown away by the simple act of extremely talented people performing to the absolute best of their ability, taste level aside. I feel the same way about liking The Book of Mormon this much as I do about really intensely loving Dimension 20 and collecting stickers, in that it’s the type of thing that I would consider outside my typical taste, but really is exactly within it if I choose to be honest with myself. It's a few hours that feel so intensely funny and perfected that it’s almost outside of time. 

The next day, I worked from Ina’s dinner table in Brooklyn and we watched the Mean Girls musical on Youtube, followed immediately by our high school’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Jersey, which is exactly what is sounds like and was performed exactly as good as you would think a high school cast of 90% Koreans who have never been to America would. In the recording, you can hear us and our friends scream-laughing in the audience, both at and with one of our best friends as the lead. This is perhaps why I still find myself drawn to musicals: while I might not have been watching the show directly at that moment in Brooklyn, I had been, nearly five years prior in Yeonhui-dong. What I recalled the most was not the players in front of me but that same feeling of being in that body, surrounded by friends, watching what was at the time the funniest musical I had ever seen, embodied, present, and crying with laughter. 

(My runner-up for the play or musical spot was Spirited Away: Live on Stage, which I caught at a Tuesday night limited run screening at the Angelika in Mosaic. In retrospect, my reflections on that show are much more admiration for the technical aspects of the show, which I know close to nothing about, so I chose my friends instead, of whom I am ten-thousand-hours-studied proficient and hold supreme expertise over.) 

Recommended double feature:

Mean Girls (musical)

Something with zombies 

Conclusion 

This year has brought immense amounts of change to my life and seemingly everyone around mine as well. The turnover of the year marks the fourth that I’ve been near-obsessively cataloging all the media I read, watch, listen to, or generally consume, and at this point I’d like to think my dataset is big enough that I can say a nice few sentences about how my taste has changed since the waning days of my teens or how I’ve been profoundly affected by how I choose to cultivate my media environment, but the truth is that there’s nothing much to say, no grand conclusions to be drawn, no effectual change. Perhaps the only constant is the person who I was when I was seventeen peeking through, who sometimes feels like the most solidified version of who I am. I wonder if they’d like Hadestown.