#Truly I could listen to the brothers telling stories for centuries. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

philtstone · 1 year

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Arunmozhi & Nandini smile

after 2 months of being too mentally exhausted to write anything i produce this in 3 days .... sometimes i impress even myself if the words "modern road trip fix it au" make sense all together in a sentence, that's what this is. sorry 2 all the mutuals who have not watched six hours of convoluted 10th century south indian soap opera historical epic tragic romance adventure story. but also you should do that, so we can all adopt new and delightfully insane blorbos together. also: this is not meant to be serious. which means the geography is a mess. apologies in advance.

“… so what is it? Two rooms or three? I can’t keep asking this front desk idiot questions, his little head will explode from all the brain power needed to answer.”

Arunmozhi wishes he hadn’t misplaced his favourite bucket hat back in Kodaikkarai. The sun is hot and directly on his head, which makes it harder to focus on the dual task of listening to the person on the phone, and keeping track of the debacle that has developed by the Pazhaiyarai route gas station bathroom, the door of which Kundavai is still attempting to lecture through.

“Well,” he says. “You’ll have to give me a minute to think about it. Something of a situation has developed.”

He has known Poonguzhali for just long enough that he can tell by the sound of her breathing how she feels about something. Now, for example, it comes across as distinctly suspicious across the mobile connection.

“Why do I get the feeling this was an entirely predictable situation,” she says.

Arunmozhi admits this might be true, though not aloud.

“The rooms, Madam Detective.”

“Look, it’s either one room with two beds or two rooms with one bed each. Idiots! You’d think they’d have three rooms available! No one but us wants to stay in this dump, I bet. Only a man such as this one would think so highly of himself to presume he had clientele.”

There is the faint sound of an older male voice protesting over the line.

“Even we don’t want to stay in this dump,” says Arunmozhi pleasantly, at the same time Poonguzhali deems it fit to remind him in a declarative voice, “I’m a private investigator, you know, not a miracle worker!“

He’s waylaid in coming up with a fun and possibly clever response because Kundavai has reached such a point of despair in her lecturing that she turns away from the locked bathroom door, pins her flashing eyes on Arunmozhi, and says,

“Tell your idiot brother to unlock the bloody door!”

Arunmozhi grimaces. Aditha is only ever his idiot brother when circumstances are truly clownish. Most of the rest of the time Kundavai is content enough to claim ownership of the both of them, no matter how useless she thinks they are being.

“Here,” he mutters sheepishly into the phone. “Talk to Vandiyadevan for a moment, I’ve got to deal with something.”

He hands over the phone to Vandiyadevan before either party can protest.

Then he surveys The Situation.

They are at a gas station on the road to Thanjavur, one of those with nothing but the gas and a little snack stand and yellow dust masquerading as the road. There are clucking chickens in front of the snack stand, and also occupying the poorly-tiled bathroom roof. The flies are terrible. Arunmozhi arrived this morning, traveling North from South, via Poonghuzali’s van — he had met her fortuitously while exploring the coast, and thought they could only benefit from the assistance of a private investigator whose own aunt he was trying to locate — and with a motorcycle in tow. It is he who orchestrated the rendezvous. Kundavai had been up due North to fetch their eldest sibling, and is now here in her rental, acquired because driving Aditha’s sports car down towards Lanka would be the opposite of inconspicuous. The rental is already a filthy disaster. In theory this should help them in their incognito quest, but Arunmozhi is willing to acknowledge that what he had originally supposed would be a hiccupless development in the journey might instead be putting their multipurpose attempt to save the family business and uncover the truth wholly at risk. At this point, dirty rental cars are neither here nor there.

In the quest, at the very least, they are all united: understanding the truth about their entangled pasts seems somehow significant to thwarting the various family members now vying for a slice of the proverbial Chola Incorporated throne, to say nothing of the lurking specter of their father’s old political rival, who seems to be in dire enough financial straits that he has been setting up easily traceable Zoom meetings with Chola Inc secretaries who are bored enough to be looking for drama.

Considering the circumstances, Arunmozhi is comforted by the idea that they have discovered a capable ally. The problem is, it won’t amount to much if they never leave this gas station.

He strokes his beard a little, the way their father sometimes does, and once again wishes for his trusty bucket hat. It is, of course, very practical — this is what he tells Kundavai every time she protests it — but he also thinks it is a brilliant piece of fashion. He’d much rather look like the normal hip youths than dress up fancily in the stuffy attire of an ailing business mogul’s son.

The business in question currently being in the throes of potential jeopardy. And there is all this sticky secretive stuff of past love affairs. Arunmozhi is convinced it will all come together somehow, if only they probe a little. He has really made great strides, armed with his Regular University Student’s attire (the bucket hat) and canvas backpack, a simple nobody traveling around to find himself after finishing his degree. All one has to do is consider The Situation in front of them, to see the clear fruits of his labour.

But, ah: The Situation.

It is, he supposes, his fault. He sighs and refocuses.

The bathroom is more of an outhouse, really, with only one functional capability (its locking door), and it is within this vestibule that Aditha, about fifteen minutes ago now, had dramatically locked himself. In front of the bathroom door stands their brilliant sister, her perfect bun starting to undo and frizz, her expensive t-shirt (Kundavai cannot help but look expensive, even when she is trying very hard not to) developing sweaty stains under the armpits, and her aristocratic chin inching higher and higher in consternation. Behind her, naturally to Arunmozhi’s side, is Aditha’s old university friend — Arunmozhi’s current best friend — Vandiyadevan. He wears an old Vanar Men’s Cricket jersey and sandals, and is unsuccessfully ignoring Poonguzhali, who has started in her favorite pastime of bickering with him over the phone loudly enough that the sound carries. He’s wisely chosen to remain silent about The Situation so far; even with his clever tongue he’d surely only make things worse. In between swapping insults with their intrepid PI, Vandiyadevan keeps peering with concern at the bathroom door, fiddling with the tangled fake beard he had used to sneak into the Thenupuriswarar temple that morning (it is still adorning his handsome face), and gazing mournfully at the passing cars and buses, as if the necessary choice to leave his ornery Tata Nano behind when they crossed the river is truly haunting him.

And, in the middle of them all, perched against the seat of her motorcycle and with her arms very tightly crossed, is Nandini.

When Arunmozhi ran into her in the Periodicals section of that Sri Lankan library, desperately clutching the same fading birth announcements column he had been looking for, she had appeared – he’d thought, not uncharitably – in true mental distress. Things could not possibly be more different now.

Unlike Kundavai, Nandini remains perfectly coiffed after multiple hours of travel in the heat and dust. Her braid is sleek and glossy, her jewelry sparkles, the delicate material of her floral dress flutters genteelly in the nonexistent wind, and every manicured fingernail — now beginning to tap impatiently against her arm — displays nothing but absolute composure. She wears dainty gold bangles on her wrists and a thick oversized motorcycle jacket that must be sweltering in the heat, and has her luminous face turned lazily in the opposite direction as the outhouse. One of the chickens clucks at her feet, rooting around for worms.

Indeed, since they arrived, Nandini has been so very good at feigning indifference that even Arunmozhi could believe her utterly unaffected. It’s only now that, after a full fifteen minutes of locked bathroom door, he can see her expression become less and less dignified and — perhaps to the detriment of the collective — more and more irate.

Hm.

Arunmozhi knocks on the bathroom door with a bit more haste than originally planned.

“Go away!” comes the expected growl from within. “Won’t you let a man shit in peace?”

He has to hand it to his brother: it has the expected reaction. Kundavai puts her face into her hands and Nandini cracks just enough to roll her eyes before determinedly reverting to lofty silence. Vandiyadevan, of course, wisely smothers his snort of laughter behind a cough; he’s taken to holding the phone an arm’s length away from his ear, while Poonghuzali, true to form, has now started interrogating the motel owner about tax breaks on the other end of the line.

Diplomatically, Vandiyadevan says, “Well, if he really does just need a minute …”

“Please,” says Kundavai, “Please, come out of the toilet. For once in your life, be normal about this.”

“I’m being very normal,” says the voice of Aditha. “I am meditating on the mysteries of life. It will take me a while, so I will stay here for now, and then meet you all again in Thanjavur later.”

“You’re being a coward!” says Kundavai.

“Oof,” Vandiyadevan winces.

“Vandiyadevan,” says Kundavai, as close to pleading as she will ever get, “you talk to him. You’re good with words. Here, I’ll take the phone.”

Vandiyadevan, who as usual seems to lose some of his easy suavity whenever Kundavai turns the full force of her general presence on him, manages to say, “I got my degree in journalism, not politics. My charms only work on the ladies.”

This is more than enough to unite the warring factions of the group; Kundavai, Nandini, and the tinny mobile voice of Poonguzhali all scoff loudly and in harmony. Even Aditha seems to make a mild noise of amusement, though that could just as well have been the harangued motel owner on Poonguzhali’s end of the line, so muffled is the sound.

“Useless then. Aditha, I’ll knock down the door with our terrible rental car.”

“Don’t do that; you’ll owe the insurance man. Look here, Kundavai, didn’t your illustrious cards say anything about this?”

“I am not in the mood to be teased, Mr. Journalist. Your beard is melting, by the way.”

“Will it really be that bad if you came out, eh?” asks Vandiyadevan, concerned for both Kundavai’s nerves and his handy accessory. He frowns as Poonghuzali says something over the phone. “Oh — the lummox wants to know whether we’re planning on renting any rooms at all. Ayyo, no, I meant the desk clerk —!”

“She clearly has you all under her thrall,” interrupts Aditha, melodramatically from behind his door, cutting through the irate exclamations emitting from the phone. “You don’t know her like I do! I don’t care what anyone says. She’s lying.”

“She hasn’t said anything yet,” growls Kundavai, still with more dignity and poise than majority of the population might have on a good day. She tosses an acid look in Nandini’s direction. Nandini glares back coolly.

“It’s all part of her plan. She’s tricking us into complacence. Or have you forgotten that the person sitting on that bike is actually a – a – a –”

Aditha seems to have run out of words.

“She-snake?” offers Vandiyadevan tentatively.

“Poisonous witch,” recites Kundavai in a tired voice.

“Demoness,” remembers Arunmozhi, “oh, that was a good one.”

Nandini, whose indifference has since fully morphed into glaring daggers at Kundavai, pauses now to hum in contemplation, like a woman good naturedly unable to deny her many titles.

Kundavai, on the other hand, has reached her wits’ end.

“Four,” she says, turning to Arunmozhi and gesturing very specifically at her hairline. “Four grey hairs. Can you see them? One, two, three, four. Dearest little brother, I hope you considered my four grey hairs when you concocted this plan. This is really it. We’re going to be stuck in this gas station forever, and our pathetic cousin will take over the family business.” She raises her voice, “Do you hear that, Aditha! And then who’ll stop that scumbag Pandian from buying out all of his shares and blowing our family’s legacy trying to create God via chatbot? The bloody thing keeps advocating for users to kill enemies of the faith! And it’ll all be your doing!”

Oof – Arunmozhi is the one who thinks it this time. As far as accusations go, that one is a little harsh. After all, it was Kundavai who meddled enough for the maligned couple to break up in the first place. Sure, Aditha then went and exposed a measure of Veera Pandian’s scumminess to the press a year later, out of spite, on Nandini’s birthday, which blew up rather spectacularly in his face. But there’s no need to be rubbing even more salt in old wounds, thinks Arunmozhi.

Giving Kundavai a look which he hopes she takes to mean Relax, I got this, Arunmozhi steps forward and knocks a second time on the bathroom door.

“I told you, I won’t be lectured into participating in treason,” comes Aditha’s muffled voice, admittedly somewhat more cowed than before. “Against me, no less. Wow.”

“It’s not Kundavai,” says Arunmozhi, “it’s me.”

A long, rather mulish moment of silence follows. “Oh.”

“Yes,” says Arunmozhi, taking this to be an opening. “Won’t you unlock the door? Vandiyadevan’s disguise beard is melting in this heat. It would be a shame to have to hold a funeral for it.”

“I don’t have any other disguise beards on hand,” agrees Vandiyadevan helpfully. “I’d have to call Nambi up for one, and then I couldn’t show my face in the office for a week.”

Arunmozhi quite likes Nambi, though he’d never tell Vandiyadevan that — they work for rival newspapers — and now wonders if perhaps involving the older, nosier man at this juncture is the right call, as Nandini seems to soften wistfully in demeanour every time his name is brought up. Then again, maybe that will complicate things further, and instead of making her more agreeable, will result in another reaction hitherto unexpected. Unwisely perhaps, nobody really believed that Aditha would take one look at his ex-girlfriend, go white as a sheet, and promptly barricade himself behind the nearest locking door.

Who knows what Nandini might do with her own version of a curveball.

“I can’t believe this is your fault,” Aditha says finally, referring to Arunmozhi but sounding like he’s talking to himself. “Of course, she’d never be able to poison you. I’m just very hurt, you know.”

Kundavai throws up her hands into the sky. Vandiyadevan pinches the bridge of his nose in two fingers. Nandini, on the other hand, once more raises her eyebrows as though contemplatively conceding Aditha’s point.

Arunmozhi sighs.

“Yes,” he says. “There is that. I am sorry, Anna. Only, don’t you want to hear what she’s got to say?”

“No,” comes the finite response. Then, more despondently, “I don’t deserve it. She’ll never forgive me. I will go back to Kanchi and continue in the only honourable profession I’ve ever had.”

“For the hundredth time,” says Kundavai, breaking her silence. “Children’s camp counsellor is not a profession. Anyone can do arts and crafts and coach football. If you got your teaching degree, maybe.”

Privately, Arunmozhi thinks Aditha is uniquely good at facilitating the diligent creation of bead bracelets amongst 5 to 10 year olds. He also gets very competitive about football in a way that inspires excellence. Observing Kundavai’s twitching eyebrow, however, Arunmozhi chooses to keep these thoughts to himself.

“I already have a business degree!” says Aditha, from within the outhouse.

“Which you refuse to put to practice!”

“This is my one use in the world, Kundavai!”

Vandiyadevan and Poonguzhali have recently given up arguing over the motel, and the former now solemnly holds the phone out microphone first so that the illustrious investigator can listen in on the proceedings. Kundavai begins lecturing again. Even the chickens seem to be clucking with exasperation rather than neutrality. It is here that Arumozhi chooses to look at Nandini. While everyone else groans at the reminder of Aditha’s derailed career trajectory, on Nandini’s face there is a sudden and even startled expression of tenderness.

It must be terribly difficult, Arunmozhi thinks, to show up to what’s become one of the more chaotic family road trips in Tamil Nadu's history, clasp one’s hands together, and say, Well, you see, I’ve only just found out that my adoptive father is my real father and he is really quite a piece of work, factually speaking, even putting aside his God-bot delusions and general tax evasion, and the only way to find my mother, who has been alive this whole time, is with your help. But she seems fully committed to it all. It is very brave of her.

More importantly – resourceful as Nandini is, Arunmozhi has no doubts that she already knew about the children’s camp, and the arts and crafts, and most definitely the football. So that tender little look cannot have been one of pure surprise.

He smiles to himself. Maybe he wasn’t so misled in his instincts after all.

“Anna,” he tells the door quietly, in a tone he knows his brother – ever his protector, defender, and supporter, ready to take him seriously even when in the throes of his own early-life crisis – will catch. “I really think if we all work together on this, we have a shot at fixing many wrongs. I really am sorry for springing this on you. Both of you – you know.” When there is no response, he adds, “Look – maybe there will be a silver lining. You keep complaining that you haven’t had anyone to play a good match of chess with in a while.”

There is another prolonged moment of quiet; Arunmozhi imagines Aditha, the mass of his long hair tied out of his face as usual, proud profile turned towards the wall, his arms probably crossed in a close mirror of Nandini’s far more delicate posture. Nandini’s own expression remains stuck on whatever momentary ache passed through her, but now morphed into a complicated middle ground, unsure of whether she wishes to remain thawed or to remember the many wounds that led them to this somewhat silly juncture.

“Alright,” comes Aditha’s sudden, gruff voice.

Vandiyadevan’s mouth drops open. Kundavai freezes still as a statue in relief. Nandini, still astride the motorcycle, straightens imperceptibly; if Arunmozhi were really looking, a faint, almost imperceptible quiver of hope passes through her brows –

“But first,” Aditha continues, “I demand she return my stolen property.”

Oh, no, Arunmozhi thinks, a split second before, in front of their despairing and disbelieving eyes, some intangible stronghold of assumed dignity snaps within Nandini’s depths.

“Stolen property?” she shrieks. The chickens scatter, clucking for their lives. An innocent farmer filling up his truck’s tank ten feet away jumps violently and covers himself in gasoline. Nandini’s beautiful face has gone the colour of chalk. “Stolen property?!”

“Yes! It is mine, and you are wearing it!”

“You gifted me this jacket, you absolute jackass!”

“Well, I am ungifting it!” yells Aditha, through the door. “Give it back!”

“I’ll kill him!” Nandini howls, springing to her feet. Her eyes shimmer with a sort of impotent rage. It’s not quite clear who she is talking to – the collective, perhaps, or the divine, or even her own self – “Do you hear me?! Your death will be at my hands, Karikalan!”

“So do it then!” comes the equally theatrical roar from the outhouse’s depths. “FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!”

“YOU JUST TRY TO TAKE MY JACKET BACK YOURSELF, YOU GUTLESS WORM –”

As everyone scrambles to prevent physical violence (Vandiyadevan has the wherewithal to yell for Poonghuzali-on-the-phone to go ahead and book the one room, as they’ll probably all be dead before the sun sets anyway), Arunmozhi reconsiders his intuition.

… Perhaps making this work will be a little bit harder than he thought.

Rubbing a hand over his overheated head, he steps into the fray.

#my writing #ponniyin selvan #arunmozhi varman #aditha karikalan #nandini #vandiyadevan #kundavai #poonghuzali #aditha x nandini #vandiyadevan x kundavai #i wanted to include some lines about vanathi but there simply was not a good opening :(#but we do stan an anxious constantly fainting queen

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

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"The Just and the Wicked": A Sneak Peek

[FULL FIC >>HERE<<]

We meet again, dear student! Have you met Hermes again? Well, perhaps he's grown fond of you. I know I have. You are such a great listener, always asking brilliant questions and never interrupting. But enough about you.

You know why you're here, there's no need for me to ask such a rhetorical question. It is also the reason we keep on meeting again and again. Last time we spoke of dreams, wisdom and the strange gift of divinity their union provided. Today, I'd like to tell you a story that my mother used to tell me. In fact, I've heard it from her so many times during my childhood that I'd grow furious any time I heard the word 'karma'. It is only in my old age that I finally understand the importance of this tale. Tell me, when you think of justice, what comes to your mind?

"Dear sister!" the young man exclaimed. He was dressed in a white robe that could hardly be called 'decent'. "My heart swells at the sight of you! But I'm afraid I'm not here to ponder our relationship and the lovely memories we share."

"Then what is it, Decay? The longer you stay in Dreaming, the more its genius loci shall rot towards oblivion. Speak fast, brother."

Decay leaned in towards you. His eyes were bright and his smile wide, making it truly hard to believe that he was the one making flowers wilt and corpses dissolve. Yes, he was, in fact, akin to the Trojan horse. "I know the spear is in here, Wisdom. My presence will not make a cloud disappear underneath your sky." For a moment, he stared at you with a strangely triumphant expression that seemed like genuine happiness only superficially - there was mischief, viciousness in his eyes as though he was gloating at possessing knowledge you did not share with him. After he got his presumed satisfaction, Decay stepped away from you to resume his monologue. "I came to inform you about a strange occurrence that needs your insight. I visited Karma not too long ago but not out of my own will. One of the Palaces died."

"Palaces of Justice?" Morpheus repeated slowly. His eyebrows furrowed instantaneously and it was a quite understandable reaction to anyone who knew a thing or two about those strange creatures. "How can a Palace of Justice die?"

"Not by a mortal hand nor by the hand of the Endless," you answered in quiet thoughtfulness. "Is there anything more you've learned, Decay? Tell me, what barbarity preceded this act of treason?"

"Truthfully, I do not know any more than Karma does. Unlike Death," Decay paused to look meaningfully in Dream's direction, "I do not gossip with my subjects, therefore Lion himself did not tell me about his passing. But I did, however, come into possession of something that you might find attractive. It is also, I believe, the very trail at which your insight begins, dear sister."

From the scarce folds of his revealing robe, Decay took out a torn piece of material. It was silvery white, glistening in the diffused rays that lit up Morpheus's palace. There seemed to be something embroidered in a dark thread but the tear run in the middle of the design, making it impossible to tell with utmost certainty what it had once presented. Extrapolating from the remaining lines, one could assume that the silvery, silky material once had an open eye inside a triquetra embroidered on it. There was only one unholy fraction that proudly wore such a sigil:

"Brothers of the Final Truth," you whispered to yourself while still examining the torn material. Finding it on your path, however, posed as many questions as it did answers, dissipating the unpenetrated mists of ignorance. "Without a doubt, the ones that told Rodrick Burgess of Metatron's Cube."

I fear the day is growing shorter yet again, dear student, and the darkness in the absence of the sun is filled with terrors even I am yet to learn about. As much as it pains me to say so, I do not know when we'll see each other again. Telling you this story, I have come to realize that an entire century had gone by since the last time I saw my mother. With the break of dawn, I shall be off to Shangri-La. Should you grow weary of my absence, borrow one of my books. Who knows, maybe between their pages you'd find a story of your own?

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oblivionrecords · 10 months

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Fred McDowell: The farmer who emerged from the woods and made a masterpiece

I thought it might be good for newbies to Mississippi Fred McDowell –like I was when I recorded “Live in New York”– to find out about where Fred came from, recording wise. This article in the UK webzine, Far Out, lays it out pretty well. You might want to dig deeper into folklorist Alan Lomax, but more importantly, you'll get a glimpse of the ambition that drove Fred from a Mississippi farm to his well deserved worldwide acclaim. -Fred Seibert.

By Tom Taylor @tomtaylorfo Far Out Magazine Sat 18 November 2023 22:00, UK

Some blues players can get their guitars to tell a story; Fred McDowell could get his to sing an opera akin to a southern Les Mis. “With Fred McDowell, I just love the way he articulates the notes,” fellow blues guitarist Bill Orcutt explains. “I’m hardly unique in that, but there’s just something about that that I love.” He’s not alone in that love either; everyone from Keith Richards to Bonnie Raitt have cited him as a star that they have attempted to emulate.

However, the one element nobody could ever copy was the humble backstory that brought him to the world. Long before he earned the prefix of Mississippi and became a big attraction at juke joints, got swamped backstage at folk festivals, or had his track covered by The Rolling Stones, he was just strumming away to an audience of nearby wildlife on his porch after a long day at work. Occasionally, he’d find himself in a situation where someone might toss him some loose change, but any notion of fame seemed unfamiliar.

But his skills were profound all the same, and fate would drag him towards another American numen on his travels. Alan Lomax was a roving ethnomusicologist, which is a big word for a curious fellow with a portable recording device that could capture the nation’s true folk on the move. One day, during Lomax and Shirley Collins’ great Southern Journey expedition, they rocked up in Como, Mississippi. They were intent on capturing the music at a local dance and the Young brothers’ fife and drum ensemble.

It was 1959, and McDowell was a 54-year-old wondering what his legacy would be beyond the farm he kept. So, without much fanfare and no warning, he decided to pick up his guitar, weave his way through the local woods, and rock up at Lonnie Young’s porch, where the recording was said to be taking place. Lomax and Collins lent him their ears, hit record, and old McDowell began to play.

Half a century later, if you close your eyes while listening to the masterpiece now known as The Alan Lomax Recordings, you can almost see the overalled maestro on the creaking porch ahead of you, hear the rustle of the southern breeze through the lowering tupelo trees, and smell the dancehalls buffer in the air. Of course, some of that is due to the suggestion of the cover art on the Mississippi Records pressing, but what I’m trying to convey is the dogeared sincerity that renders this authentic tape so beguiling.

Even at the time, Lomax and Collins were so flummoxed by the humility and skill of this unknown farmer that they quickly whisked their tapes off to a blues label, and in his autumn years, McDowell became an internationally renowned star, typifying what was best about the blues when the revival movement had somewhat muddied the waters — he was the new (old) find that the kids were craving.

He would soon rub shoulders with the next generation, teaching Raitt how to play slide guitar, touring with the likes of Big Mama Thornton and John Lee Hooker, and embracing the flattery of being covered by rockers despite declaring himself that he did not play rock ‘n’ roll. He left the farm behind and enjoyed a good 13 years of fame until his death in 1972, aged 68, but his old porch was never truly that far from his artistic thoughts, so even beyond the masterful Lomax Recordings, he’s the bluesman who can capture the earthiness of the South with more verity than anyone.

#OD1 #Mississippi Fred McDowell #Alan Lomax #The Alan Lomax Recordings #1959 #Fred McDowell

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hecckyeah · 7 months

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Okay I saw your fic behind the scenes ask game and I MUST know behind the scenes info for "So A Crazy Thing Happened At The Terra Bella Lodge"

Oh my GOSH I'm so excited to tell you all of it!!!!

First, obligatory link to said fic in case someone would like to read it! (But be warned-- I spoil everything below)

A couple of fun facts:

I can't remember for the life of me what exactly spurred this idea, but it's heavily influenced by Leverage and some of the more bottle-like episodes they've done. Very heist-y origins! Although I wish I was better at writing heists, because a Brooklyn 99/The Rookie heist would be the crossover fic of the century.

I spent roughly 15 entire hours watching episodes of Brooklyn 99 and clips of Jake and Amy so I could get their voices in my head, since I'd been on a Rookie spree and all I was hearing was Tim and Lucy, and while they're similar in some ways I needed to remember how to write Peraltiago! Pretty sure I've watched every single b99 clip that exists on Youtube

The inspiration for the Terra Bella Mountain Lodge is actually a real place!! It's a wedding venue in Estes Park, CO called the Della Terra Mountain Chateau. I've sadly never been there but it looked GORGEOUS, and if I ever get married, it'll be on my top 5 venue options for sure

I tossed around the idea of whether or not to have Jake and Amy's kids there with them, since it's kind of a romantic spot, but I opted for my own enjoyment of getting to write the kids instead of being realistic and keeping them in New York with Jake's mom or something

I listened to basically nothing except this chenford playlist I made, the whole time. music on repeat is very effective for my writing brain :)))

I had a couple deleted scenes where Jake and Amy solve the whole case from the minivan, then Tim goes and busts Lucy out by fistfighting 3 guards at once in a superhuman throwdown brawl, but I went back and added those scenes where Lucy saves herself like the queen she is since she was feeling a little too Damsel-in-Distress and not enough Badass Officer (Detective) Chen, and I'm SO glad I did. It's a better story for the grandkids ;)

Also, in previous drafts Raymond Reeves WAS the villain. I was planning him as the thief who wanted to steal some diamonds or something, but it just wasn't gelling with my brain. I think I rewrote all the scenes with him and Marcia about 27 times before I was happy with it.

SPEAKING OF THAT DUDE!!! This is one of my favorite BTS tidbits :))) Raymond Reeves' backstory is that he has about 10 aliases that he uses and for ALL of them, the initials are S.K. -- Sanford Kain, Silas Kearney . . . Because S.K. stands for Serial Killer. He was so guilty about what he did to his brother-in-law, that he purposefully branded himself forever, subconsciously hoping someone would put the pieces together and he'd finally be arrested and punished for his crime.

Vesa Wescott was always going to be in on the crime from the beginning, I just didn't decide exactly how until Ronan Reeves came into the picture :)

This is very easily the first fic I've fully drafted out from beginning to end, and it STILL changed along the way!

I threw around the idea of Lucy going into preterm labor during the snowstorm, but figured that was kind of cliche and scary and unnecessary, and I'd rather have her working the case with Jake and Amy than anything else.

Oh, and Tim absolutely breaks his no-Disneyland rule for the Peraltiago fam :))) But given that I've never been to Disneyland and have no idea what it's like, I don't feel qualified to write that fic . . . Maybe someday!!

So yeah, there you have it!! I hope you enjoyed this episode of behind the fic with yours truly 😄

[ask me about a fic!]

#katie’s sleep deprived ramblings #writing #the rookie #brooklyn 99 #so this crazy thing happened at the terra bella mountain lodge

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your-subby-creature · 1 year

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*skitters into your inbox* hey!! if u have anything u wanna infodump about rn or whenever u want, i am sitting down and very ready to listen :D

Hello!!! Since I've been feeling kinda sad/anxious/insecure today (forgot my meds oops), I think for our infodump I'm gonna tell a nice story out of trans history that's always been a niche favorite of mine. Mind you, this is my interpretation, and truly only based off one article from long ago, so take all my tales as slightly taller than they appear. Now settle down, and let your pal Creature spin you a yarn.

In the late 1890s, an old farmer, one Mr. Otto Schaffer, was living out his years on a small plot of land in Kansas. He'd served in the Civil War, a Union man through and through, and was content to settle down and make his living in the calm country of the once-bloody state.

Unfortunately for Otto, this land held more than the idyllic calm he'd imagined, and one day a terrible storm rolled through. They say it was as he was sending up a prayer to his God that a bolt of lightning struck poor Mr. Schaffer dead, but the man lived alone, so there's no way to tell what really happened that stormy night. Either way, that storm was his last, and when the townspeople came to collect Otto's body, the lightning strike wasn't their only surprise.

Now, they didn't quite use the same terms and divisions we have now, so when the press ran the headline "The Old Soldier a Woman," it was really about as close as they could get to explaining the deceased Mr. Schaffer's transness. They seemed to sense it too, seeing the man in front of them as more than his assigned sex at birth, never once misgendering him in the article, never questioning that he'd get the soldier's burial he deserved.

It was an honor reserved for men, in those days, and not a single one of his brothers in arms so much as thought of refusing to raise their guns for the final salute as Otto Schaffer's body was lowered into the ground. It must have been a shock, then, as the guns went off and the whole town said their goodbyes, when a single dove fell from the sky, shot dead by the salute, coming to rest near Otto's grave.

The papers honestly seemed more intrigued by this second death than any of the events prior we may see as more salacious today, calling it "peculiar and romantic," spending more time on what the dove could have meant than anything truly surrounding Otto or his body.

The article was published around the state but no further, just another oddity to read in the paper, nothing special about the old soldier Otto Schaffer except for the dove who lost its life to his final gun salute.

Other than this single article, we know nothing of Otto's life, nothing of the man he was or the person he would have been today, and yet I find myself smiling when I think of his story. He's the earliest evidence I've found for an American trans funeral, and yet he was respected and honored by his local community, by the military, by the press (who cared more about the bird than anything, so it seems.)

I feel a kinship with him, a tie that binds across the centuries, and while I know his existence is more complex and ambiguous and altogether unknown, his story never fails to remind me that we've always been here, and we've always been loved by someone.

(Remember that this is heavily narrativized by some guy on the internet, fully my creative nonfiction take on a primary source. The original is available in the Digital Transgender Archive, either Otto Schaffer's name or the headline "The Old Soldier A Woman" should get you to it. It's important to write and teach our histories through storytelling, but I don't want to create any impressions that this is all objectively 100% hard fact that's had no personal spin at all. I embellished for narrative effect, and I gladly and openly admit it. Lastly, this whole story exists in a broader context of colonialism and white supremacy and the gut-wrenching history of the United States, and I do want to make sure we remember and acknowledge that. )

-your Creature

#Creature responds #soft-caramel #storytime with creature #i feel like someones old peepaw sitting them down by the fire to spin a yarn and tell a tale #REITERATING THAT WHILE THIS IS BASED ON A PRIMARY SOURCE I HAVE HEAVILY EMBELLISHED PLEASE DONT TAKE THIS AS GOSPEL TRUTH #i dont want another who threw the first brick at stonewall situation with my boy otto schaffer #btw there were things thrown at stonewall but none of them were bricks its a nice story but also a myth

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luverofralts · 1 year

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Arkhelios Adventures

“The house is a bit...much, don’t you think? It doesn’t fit in Arkhelios at all. There’s too much stuff.”

Wanda Bellamy stared at the house and tried to see her husband’s point. No matter what Hunter said, Wanda knew that this was the house for them. She’d spent a small fortune getting it built and no one was going to tell her that it had all been in vain. The house itself was a replica of a rich titan of industry’s lavish house and that was exactly what the ruler of Arkhelios deserved.

No, not the ruler of Arkhelios, the leader of Arkhelios. The leader who is trying to find someone to run against her. There hasn’t been an election because there is no demand for one, not because I’m trying to hold on to power.

“You can try to fix it up to meet your standards, dear,” she promised. “I want this to be a home we all feel comfortable in.”

Wanda watched as her son Morcant studied the tall white building.

“It has a pool inside,” she said to her son. “You can go swimming whenever you want now. Maybe we could even get a dog since the backyard is much bigger than where we used to live.”

Morcant smiled shyly at his mother and she gave a quick peck on the head.

“Come on, let’s go exploring,” she encouraged. Hunter didn’t reply, but stomped sullenly towards the house all the same.

“See? Isn’t this better than anything else in Arkhelios?” Wanda asked, daring her family to disagree with the glamour she saw around her. “Real, expensive wood. Tapestries that have to be at least eighty years old. There’s a history here and we get to start our own story here.”

“It looks like something my father would buy,” Hunter complained. “We’re not royalty, Wanda. We’re not Pleasantview. Even that fancy crypt you bought our family sticks out in Arkhelios. What was wrong with the home we had?”

“That’s what I said.”

Hunter looked for the origin of the frustrated statement. Behind him was Evren Thorne, looking absolutely miserable and a woman Hunter was truly starting to hate.

“Winter! You made it on time! I couldn’t possibly have ordered the curtains for the kitchen without your help,” Wanda gushed, embracing the elder witch.

Winter Walsh was the worst thing to happen to Hunter’s marriage since their fight about Kamalani’s poor parenting. Winter was from nobility; her younger brother had been king of Twikkii Island centuries ago and her mother had once been queen of Crystal Cove. She’d lost those members of her family to time and age, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make to pursue her magical skills. Wanda had heard hushed stories about the Strangetown coven’s former leader who had also lived for several centuries. You had to be a witch of extraordinary power to cheat death.

Since promising to help Wanda, Winter had taken their branch of the Bellamy family by storm. Wanda and Winter discussed magic and coven guidelines, membership requirements and official Arkhelios government policy day and night. If Wanda had a free moment, Winter was probably there to snatch it from Hunter. He had hoped to have several kids by now, but Wanda was simply too busy to make any more. He and Morcant spent most of their time by themselves, watching Wanda dart in and out of their lives for various meetings.

There were days that Hunter wished that Winter would finally drop dead of old age and give him his wife back. Then there other days where he was honest with himself and he admitted that Winter wasn’t the problem. If she weren’t in Wanda’s life, it would just be something else taking up his wife’s time. Both she and Melvin worked themselves to the bone in defiance of their lazy mother.

“This house is far too large and it doesn’t match the style of the neighbouring lots,” Evren stated, though he knew no one would listen to him. He’d raised concerns through the entire process of building both Wanda’s new home and the new Arkhelios coven’s meeting space, but no one seemed to be listening to him. He was only an architect after all, who went to school to learn his trade. No, it was the 200 year old former princess who was right since she was footing a large portion of the bill. Wanda’s tastes were similarly suspect and Evren had to wonder just how the woman had been raised to select some of the tackiest fabrics he’d ever seen. Roman had said that Wanda grew up poor and unsophisticated, but Evren had never seen a woman so bafflingly terrible at designing a home in all his career. Adrian had had to pour him several stiff drinks whenever he had come home from a Wanda/Winter planning session.

“I’m so glad you made it,” Wanda gushed, hugging her friend. “Let me show you the home office. Our current coven agenda is set up there, I just need to get your signature on a few things. Evren, you can carry on the inspection on your own, right? We’ll be right back.”

“Don’t hurry back,” Evren mumbled under his breath, making notes on some of his files before the witches returned.

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios adventures #wanda hydes #hunter bellamy #sim: Winter Walsh #Winter Walsh #sim: Morcant Bellamy #Morcant Bellamy #evren thorne

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saltyroxs · 1 year

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Hamlet-To Thine Own Self Be True

Hamlet has many quotations and underlined messages that transcend over the centuries since William Shakespeare composed this thought-provoking prose of literature. The characters are unique with their underlined flaws and overreactive emotions that ultimately lead to their tragic demise. This is punctuated by the actions of Hamlet's mother Queen Gertrude marrying her husband's brother Claudius that killed her husband that leads to an underlying feel of espionage and betrayal, while her son Hamlet is spying on them and other people to decipher who the true murderer is. Hamlets compulsive behavior and reckless emotions lead to his own death and causing the other characters demise by his impetuous behavior.

My favorite act in Hamlet is Act One-Scene Three. The main character is King Claudius chief minister Polonius. Polonius is giving his son Laertes advice as he prepares to depart for his trip to university. It is a poignant scene of a coming to age where the child is becoming a man and his father is trying to teach him to control his emotions, judgements, and tells him how to compose himself with other people. It belied the message that you can learn more from a person's actions words if you let them speak more in your silence. This is depicted in the next prose,

"Give every man thy ear but few thy voice. Take each man’s censure but reserve thy judgment."

I identified with this scene because I have raised my children to try and listen to the people around them. Not only is this respectful, but you can gain more information being quiet. The only problem is I am guilty of not always following my own advice. The act progresses in his father telling him to dress in fine clothing, but not to overdress himself in gaudy clothing. This could attract the wrong people, and this is expressed in the next prose,

"Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not expressed in fancy—rich, not gaudy, For the apparel oft proclaims the man,"

The scene in the movie Hamlet (1990) is played by the actors Mel Gibson, Ian Holm, Nathanial Parker, and Glenn Close. Ian Holm portrays the character Polonius and is giving advice to his son Laertes played by Nathanial Parker. They are walking along a stone courtyard and the son is saying goodbye to everyone after speaking with his sister Ophelia to stay away from Hamlet. Hamlet played by Mel Gibson peers down upon them from a higher ground in the castle listening to their conversation. The scene appears to be heartwarming especially as he gives him advice to how to live a better life but is foreshadowed by Mel Gibson staring malevolently down on the happy family. His behavior betrays an understandable jealousy as Laertes is being sent by his father, whereas Hamlet's father is deceased, and he is being prevented from going to school by his father's killer. The scene seems to take life as Polonius tells him in the next prose to be his self.

"This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man."

This prose accentuates that it is not the gaudy clothes or the flowing conversations you have that make you a good person but being true to yourself at all times. This will ultimately mean that you are not faking it to be a better person but are a better person by living a life free of deception and lies. This last comment is ironic due to Hamlet being very evasive and not being forthright with the people in his family. He truly is not being true to his self and is plagued with misfortune at many turns due to his behavior. Shakespeare is great at character development and writing life goal advice within his story. This teaches the reader how to life a more fulfilled life as they become engrossed in the characters in the stories.

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outismm · 2 years

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Who knew the thing that would cure my diseases would be a 30 minute Sandman ASMR podcast

#Specifically. A Visit To The Library and The First Story #but honestly all of them are so #<333333333333333 #Why could each Ep. not be. 3 hours long #I'd listen to Sanjeev Bhaskar read me bedtime stories for DECADES his voice is so lovely #sandman netflix #sandman #cain and abel #cain #abel #keeping those for my tags MSNDMSD #im gonna need to figure out. proper tags for these two tho. they're being added to my kisskisskisskisskiss list MSNDMSDN #GUH but. The First Story is so cute.#'you look smart.. (even sleeping)' Abel did you know I would marry u at the drop of a hat #Truly I could listen to the brothers telling stories for centuries.#Which. now that I think about it is. kinda the. point. hm. MNSDMSNADM #'heres your tea :) just the way you like it' ABELLLLLL. hes such a darling im gonna explode into a thousand pieces #'*sigh* ill brew another pot of tea..... ugh. its a boring story anyway.. told it a thousand times' cain ily. sitting on your windowsill.#thank u for giving us ASMR mr gaiman. sobbing loudly.#AAA AND LUCIENNE <3333 #'would you... like to see my library?' LUCIENNE SOUNDS SO SOFTLY HAPPY. OHHH #'even you have stories here.. look - heres one. Do you remember?' im going to cry. something in my heart exploded.#shes so pretty the first time I saw her. my brain broke oh mein gott <333 lucienne #they just captured so much softness in this little asmr mini promotional podcast. mr gaiman thank u for knowing exactly what we needed.

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disaster-daydreams · 3 years

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Am I Going Crazy, Would I Even Know?

In which Mod August imagines the brothers with various mental health issues because at this point this blog is free therapy.

So, as for a summary- it is midnight and I have no clue how well this fits with stuff in canon.

Lucifer has flashbacks of the fate of his family, Mammon has trouble remembering that the sun still exists behind the clouds, Leviathan can’t figure out why your touch hurts, Satan hates that you chose Lucifer before you chose him, Asmodeus has grown accustomed to losing what he loves, Beelzebub’s nightmares take a harsh toll on his body, and Belphegor can’t tell what memories actually happened.

This is based on personal experience, and will not reflect the experiences of everyone. Please feel free to send in an ask if you want to correct something or tell about similar experiences, or just rant. I’m happy to listen to any story, even if you think it’s irrelevant. I know these things can be difficult to deal with, and though I am in no way qualified to give any advice, I am willing to listen.

Get some water and possibly tissues. Have fun.

WARNINGS: Blood, cursing, mentions of violence against MC, threatened manipulation, MENTAL ILLNESS, mentions of self-harm, questioning of reality, hallucinations. This one is rough man.

Time taken: Fuck knows atp

Word count: 3,097

Flashbacks

The flashbacks usually happened at random. For centuries, it had been predictable. He had learned how to ignore them, how to pretend he was alright, how to push away the image of his brothers burning as they fell, of Lilith’s chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as she drew closer to death in his arms. He learned to shake away the regret of his decision to turn against the Celestial Realm.

But now there was you.

He tried to pretend, like before. That he hadn’t watched his youngest brother toss your body onto the floor, broken and pale. That he didn’t still feel your hand crumpling under his grip at that dance. That he couldn’t still see the fear in three sets of eyes, and the defiance that danced alongside it in yours, that night you stood between him and Beelzebub and Luke. That he was still so afraid to touch you for fear that it would be an image of you, this time, mangled and dying in his arms, that his mind’s eye would supply him.

He couldn’t afford to see your bright, lovely eyes dull. So he turned away from you, and pushed you away, so you wouldn’t see him weak. So he could preserve his pride.

He managed to avoid it for most of your stay, even at the expense of watching you slip away, watching you and Simeon grow closer. You would be happier with him, anyways.

And then it happened.

He had been looking for you, to see if you knew where Mammon was. He found you in with the twins, in the living room, laughing together. They didn’t notice his presence, but you did. And you called out.

The twins turned, Belphie on Beel’s shoulders looking truly awake and alive for once, and Beel shamelessly and loudly laughing, like it had been before. And you, in Beel’s arms, your eyes shining- fuck, your eyes were just like hers.

It happened before he could do anything. He stumbled out of the room, ears ringing as he crouched down outside the door. He remembered a time when this would have been common, but it was too late now. He had ruined it. His pride had torn away his only sister, his brother’s happiness, and now, it had torn away the one person who might have been able to change all that.

Object Permanence

Before he fell, it wasn’t like this. After he fell, he attributed it to his sin. But now, with you, he knew it had to be something else. It wasn’t just a need to have more, to hoard, to have things to himself. It was a persistent nervousness when you were with others; a nagging worry when you wouldn’t answer your phone; a downright panic when no one knew where you were. It usually hit him so hard, he had no time to even try to hide it.

The others called him clingy, or annoying, or possessive. He, personally, thought the term nuisance was on the money. But sometimes it got to the point that it physically hurt when he panicked, and the only thing that could help was you.

It only got worse after you left the exchange program after the first year.

His brothers began to take notice, the nervous tapping of his foot, the somehow more messy hair from his tugging at it, the thousand-yard stare he held more often than not anymore. He stopped recognizing your face and name sometimes, then most of the time. It increased dramatically the first few weeks, his anxiety growing and growing until-

-it stopped. You started to call, and he bounced back to his normal self. He seemed, to all outward appearances, that he was perfectly fine.

He knew, though, what happened when you were gone. Even when you finally came back to the Devildom, he would feel that sharp, twisting, burning ache in his chest anytime you weren’t with him. It came to a head the night you were supposed to spend with the angels and Solomon at Purgatory Hall.

He knew you had turned your phone off. He also knew that Solomon and Simeon were capable of protecting you. But he needed to see you, desperately, and had no qualms about sneaking out to find you.

But. You weren’t there. Simeon and Luke thought you were with Solomon, who had gone out. He called Solomon; he was with Asmodeus, thinking you had ditched them. And the pure panic that engulfed him sent him to his knees, thoughts racing. You left, you were gone, he had been too much for you and you were never coming back. And he would forget you, and you would fade away, your time with him slipping through his fingers like water.

Touch-Repulsion

He hadn’t even realized, over the years, just how little he had been touched. Eventually, the others stopped noticing how effortlessly he made himself small, flinching in on himself and sneering at anyone who nearly ran into him or ducking to avoid a flying object (or, sometimes, an entire Mammon) flung by an angry Lucifer. He had grown so accustomed to being avoided that he didn’t realize just how alien touch would feel.

And then you came along, reached out even when he flinched, coaxing him into comfort like a flighty cat. And he gently took your hand.

And promptly decided this was a mistake.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hug you; he actually very much did want that but the pressure on his body overwhelmed him. The spiky friction of his jacket rubbing against his arms, like rubbing scales the wrong way, made his stomach do flips. He pushed back, swallowing hard repeatedly to try to quell the nausea. He could barely look at you, the horrible feeling slowly fading into a mild fuzzy feeling. You sighed, and he glanced up, the sickening feeling only worsening as he saw the disappointment on your face.

He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to rub the feeling off, hoping that once it was gone he could find his voice. There was so much he wanted to tell you, like how grateful he was that you were trying, how much he really did want you to touch him, to hug him, to be able to lay your head on his shoulder. But even when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He watched, helpless and miserable, as you walked out, wishing he could reach out and grab you without feeling like scratching his skin off afterwards.

Why did this only happen when he cared?

He had been touched before, and he had grabbed onto people plenty of times, and it didn’t feel like this. So why, when he felt so horribly alone and all he wanted was to be held, did it feel like enduring a carpet burn wherever your touch fell? He hated it. He hated how harshly he pushed you away when all you were trying to do was help. And he hated how patient you were. The affection, the attention, all felt so foreign and itchy, even when he craved that very same affection.

Maybe that was it, then. Maybe he was fated to never have the one thing he wanted most. Maybe it was best, then, to keep you at arms length, so that he wouldn’t one day push you over the edge. So that you, his darling Henry, could be happy with someone who could hold you like you deserve.

Number Two

He had never been first. In anything.

Not in competitions. Not in grades. Not in magic ability.

And now, not even in love.

He shouldn’t be bitter about it; you chose him in the end, didn’t you? And yet. Every time Mammon proclaimed that you were his first, every time you danced with someone else before him, every time he wasn’t the one you went to for questions or advice, his head spun with anger. This, he decided, was the feeling that made Levi want to summon Lotan. He hated himself for it, too, because any time the feeling bubbled up he wanted to hurt you. He wanted to crack your ribcage open and tear your heart out and watch you bleed- and then it would vanish. Just a moment, a spinning sensation and a horrible urge he hadn’t felt since his creation, and it was over.

But could he be blamed? You had chosen Lucifer first. You had followed after him like a lost puppy, begged for his affections, and when you were snubbed, you turned to Satan.

Second choice, as always. Always second to Lucifer.

He despised you for your choice, for your disloyalty. Any time you were close to him, he couldn’t help but think that if Lucifer gave you the opening you would leave him in an instant. When you snuggled into him on the couch, head nestling into his shoulder, he wished desperately that this moment was wholly his. That for once in his life he wasn’t still clawing his way out of the shadow of his older brother. When you sat in his lap, staring at a book he knew you couldn’t understand while he translated it aloud for you, he wished you were actually listening instead of blinking tiredly in the dim light filtering through the bookcases. He wished so many things. He wished he didn’t love you so much that he would give up everything he’s worked so hard for if you asked.

He wished you were as in love with him as he was with you.

The worst times, though, were when they were all together. When it was obvious to everyone who you would choose, given the chance. Lucifer made you laugh when nothing else could, Lucifer could fall into perfect step with you, Lucifer had no fear of you choosing someone else. It was so easy between the two of you; why couldn’t he have that? Why did Lucifer have to steal everything good from him?

But it wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let Lucifer steal this from him. He would make you choose him.

He would ruin you so thoroughly, make your life away from him horrible. And when you came to him, he would magically make it all better.

You would choose him.

You would have no choice.

Abandonment

He had always been the first to leave, the one to be chased, the one to be wanted. He never thought anyone would make him afraid to lose them.

He supposed it was nice at first, to have something different than what he had always known. To be able to want something he couldn’t have.

And then you saw him.

You saw past the flirtatious confidence, past the perfect façade he put up, and saw him for everything he was. For his yearning to be loved like he once was, for his desperation to keep his family together, for the jagged expression every time he was brushed off as the eccentric sex addict. For his want to be able to trust and rely on someone, for someone to allow him to let down his mask and him not have to fear being ruined.

And it scared him.

So he threw the mask back up, hid from you again, made certain that you wouldn’t hurt him. He turned away to quickly and lost his footing, fell harder for you than he had for anyone- and you caught him. And your smile lit up his world, changed his entire perception of what love could be. You didn’t give in to his advances, even when you clearly stated you were interested. The harder he pushed, the harder you pushed back, challenging him to do better, to stop chasing and instead match you, step for step.

He learned to lean on you, to confide in you and ask for help without fear. The closer you grew, the bigger that gnawing worry in the back of his head grew. That worry that one day, he would make a mistake. One day, he would stumble, and you wouldn’t be there to catch him this time.

One day, you would leave him alone because you were so much more than he was.

He had never feared losing someone, because even if he did there was always someone else. A replacement, a new fascination. But there was no one like you, no one who could make him feel like you could.

Yet, you were bound to go further than him. He was bound by title, by family, by design, and you were free from all of that. You were human, something he could never compare to. So when you left for your world, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He shouldn’t have wanted so badly to drag you down with him, to keep you by his side. And yet, your smile when talking about your dreams, your animated explanations of all you had worked for, kept him rooted to his spot. The light in your eyes as you leapt into his arms to say goodbye allowed him to gently pull away and wish you well.

He would never love someone quite like you again. And he would never shake this hole in his heart you had left him with.

Oneirophrenia

Beelzebub had always had a deep connection with his younger brother in so many ways. He could feel what Belphie felt, and vice versa. They could read each other easily, bordering on telepathy. However, one thing the two rarely shared was sleep.

Belphie could sleep for hours on end, and most likely longer if he had his way. Beel, on the other hand, was a restless and troubled sleeper. Often, he found himself staring across the room at his sleeping brother, counting his breaths just to make sure. And sometimes, he found himself staring into eyes both familiar and strange.

He told himself it was the dark, playing tricks on his mind, showing him Lilith standing over his younger brother and staring at him. But it was so hard to shake it, her sad eyes and defeated posture asking why did you choose him, why not me, didn’t you love me? Even when he closed his eyes, he could feel her stare, and it kept him awake.

He learned quickly not to talk about it, picked up tips from Asmodeus on how to hide the circles under his eyes, retreated into himself whenever the hallucinations came back.

He knew that was what it was, now, because of common sense usually. He knew that Belphie didn’t have wings, that Diavolo’s eyes couldn’t be black, that the hole in the gym floor couldn’t actually be there. Things moving in the corner of his vision stopped making him jump, and the voices were easy to tune out after a while. He could tell the difference, now, the slight distortion separating the fake from the real.

You, however, hadn’t had the time to get used to his distracted moments, to his eyes darting towards nothing every so often, to his zoning out for minutes at a time. And, when he finally confided in you about his nightmares, you asked him about what you had seen.

He was hesitant to tell you everything. He had been ridiculed for it before, and he cared about what you thought of him. It took weeks for you to understand just how severe it had gotten over the many centuries. And, with research on your side, you begin to try to help. Rubbing his hand to gently coax him out of the worst moments, and reassuring him of what was real and what wasn’t in everyday situations.

And, most importantly, you helped him sleep.

Soon, it was your eyes he looked to when he was awoken by a nightmare. This time, though, there was no uncertainty- you were there, you were real, and everything would be okay.

No hallucination could take that away.

Dream-Reality Confusion

In the months he had spent in the attic, it hadn’t mattered what was real and what wasn’t. His dreams slowly merged into reality, idealized hopes inserted between blurs of arguments and fights. The part of him that still looked up to Lucifer, that desperately wanted to retain the love for his family, it pushed him to accept these fake ‘memories’ as real.

He only realized his mistake when he was released.

He would recount some lovely memory, sure that it had happened, and be given looks of confusion or exasperation from his brothers. He tried to argue, but when he was the only one that remembered an event, there wasn’t much on his side. He hid his crestfallen expression, realizing that these things had never happened, and just stayed quiet for the rest of the conversation.

He picked through memories, trying to separate what was real and what he had invented, but found few memories that had any inconsistencies notable enough to pick them out. However, it didn’t take long for him to realize the common denominator.

Picnic with Beel and Asmo? Never happened.

Studying until he fell asleep at Satan’s side? Nope.

Staying holed up with Levi to avoid Lucifer and Mammon’s fighting? Also no.

Learning to crochet with Mammon? Figment of his imagination.

Falling asleep while Lucifer played piano? The glare he got said it all.

The best of the memories were the ones that he had made up. Every moment he had held onto in the attic to remind himself that his brothers loved him was fake. He wondered, sometimes, if more of it was made up too. He slept so much, how was he to know? How was he to know he wasn’t dreaming now?

Who was to say you weren’t an object of his dreams as well? He certainly couldn’t tell anymore. His dreams felt so real, both in the dream and once he woke up. If everything good in his life was imagined, then you could be too.

It wasn’t like he wanted you to be fake. Quite the opposite, actually. He feared that, if this was a dream, he would wake up and be back in the attic, behind those enchanted bars with no one to hear his cries for help. Or, even worse, he would wake up in his room, with Beel shaking his shoulder, to find that the exchange program had never even been thought up.

He feared losing what he once had fought so desperately fought against.

He wished he could touch you without the fear that you and the world he had grown to love would dissolve under his fingertips.

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twiceasfrustrating · 3 years

Note

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

#obey me #dark fic #mine #request #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #swd obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #headcanon #obey me headcanons

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devildomimagines · 3 years

Text

Part 2 Remix

Ok, listen. First, I’m going to need you to go read this *chef’s kiss* of a post if you haven’t already. The Brothers and Undateables at one of Diavolo’s balls when a Noble starts talking down on MC by @arcadejohn127-9. There is now a part 2 for the ending (and it has been up for a while haha)!

Somewhere after the first post was published but before we had the ending, I started writing my own twist on the ending because I was so inspired and because I needed the comfort from the hurt/comfort lol. I’ve finally gotten around to finishing it and I wanted to share. You will see why it took me so long as some of these parts really ran away from me. The younger brothers and the Undateables are under the cut to save everyone’s dash. 😂

Lucifer

For a second he was torn, making that Noble pay or chase after you.

The choice was obvious, you came first.

As he made his way through the crowd, Diavolo caught his eye.

With a few quick gestures, Lucifer had communicated he was going after you. Diavolo nodded, making his way to the Noble to take care of that side of it.

The crowd opened up enough for Lucifer to see the door to the butler’s pantry close.

He had to catch up to you before you met up with Barbatos.

His worst fear right now is that you would take advantage of Barbatos’ power and have the timeline altered to where you never came to Devildom and never met him.

Once he was close enough he used a blast of magic to open the door and rushed into the room.

You had been wiping your tears but with the door bursting open, you jumped and scowled at who was entering. Realizing it was Lucifer, your face softened but looked away.

“You’re still here,” Lucifer held a hand on his chest, allowing himself a moment of relief.

“Well it’s not like I can teleport or fly. I’m just a human.”

The way you talked down about yourself made Lucifer’s own heart drop, your pact physically affecting him, your pride was at the lowest he had ever felt.

As the Avatar of Pride, he wouldn’t stand for it. “You’re not just a human, MC. You’re unbelievably important.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, because I’m Lilith’s descendant and a part of the exchange program.”

“No, you’re important because you bring kindness and joy into everything you do. You’re important because you’ve become the anchor I’ve been trying to be for my family for centuries. You’re important because you truly try to make a meaningful difference even when it’s difficult.” Lucifer moved in front of you, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, “You’re important because I love you.”

Mammon

When he recovered from the shock, he looked around.

The first brother he saw was Levi. He marched over and ordered him to deal with the Noble.

Next he moved in the direction you had stormed off in. He finally caught up to you at the coat check.

You noticed him and looked away pretending you didn’t.

“MC! You going home? I’ll go with,” he dug out his own coat ticket and handed it over to the coat checker.

“You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m going where you go,” He moved to sling an arm around your shoulder like he normally does but you shrugged out of his reach. That hurt.

“Well maybe I am stupid! Just a big dumb human who doesn’t realize they’re being used.” You hugged yourself to try to self-soothe.

It took a few moments for Mammon to register all of your words, “What? Who’s using you? Was it that Noble??” He scowled back at the ballroom.

“No, forget it.” You started walking to the exit.

He growled as he grabbed his coat and jogged to catch up to you.

You heard the rushed footsteps and paused more out of habit than anything else. “Mammon, stop.”

He had made it right behind you before he was forced to stop, the pact binding him in place. That didn’t stop his mouth though, “MC, whatever that Noble said to you, it’s a lie!”

“You don’t know what he said,” you replied coldly, “He said that I’m being used, by you and your brothers, by Diavolo, he said that none of you ever really cared about me, I was just a replacement for Lilith.” Repeating the words made them worse, it had you shaking as the sobs started to rattle your body.

“MC,” Mammon whined your name, clearly trying to force his body to move, “drop the spell,” you shook your head no so he begged, “Please MC.”

His desperation softened your resolve for a moment long enough to release the hold you had on him.

Mammon immediately turned you to face him, your tears broke him and he started tearing up. He pulled you into his chest and started, “We never thought of it that way. I was so relieved that Lilith got to lead a fulfilling life where she didn’t have to suffer turning into a demon. You were the result of her happy life that it made me so happy, unbelievably happy. But I liked you before we knew all of that, I was the first of my brothers to see how great you are.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “MC, I love you so much. Please don’t doubt that.”

Leviathan

“Ouch,” he thought as he looked around. The first of his brother’s he found was Beel, his height and orange hair made him stick out. He was also in the most likely place to find him, in front of a table of food.

Levi maneuvered around party guests and tapped at Beel’s shoulder. Very quickly he explained the situation, Beel nodded with a piece of meat hanging out of his mouth and started muscling his way through the dance floor.

Next was to face you. He was nervous, had he done something he wasn’t aware of? Did the Noble point out his inferiority and MC was disgusted to have a pact with him?

He got to the bathroom and hesitated. He could hear your soft cries muffled behind the door. All nervousness left him as he knocked and called out to you, “MC?”

The cries stopped and you answered, “Go away.”

“No,” Where was this confidence coming from, he wondered as he added, “I’m here for you, please let me help you.”

“You can’t help me, you’re part of the problem.”

All of the confidence he just had was shattered. “MC… I’m sorry. If it was something I did, or didn’t do, please tell me. You know I don’t know how to handle these situations but I would never try to hurt you.”

The door swung open and Levi jumped.

“And why is that Levi?” Your tear stained face stared him down.

“Because I c-care about you?” He was confused why you were angry at him now.

“Because I’m a replacement for Lilith?”

“No way!” Now it was his turn to be angry.

A bit of the venom was removed as you asked, “Because I’m a dumb normie human?”

“Well…” He started to joke but when you pouted he took it back, “of course not.”

“Then why?” You sniffled.

Levi looked around, you two were in a pretty secluded area. He took a deep breath and braced himself so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. “I wouldn’t hurt you because we’re a team! My player 2, my Henry, my friend! When I agreed to form a pact with you, it was because you opened my eyes to how valuable it would be to let people into my world. At that time, I had no idea about Lilith, Lucifer kept us in the dark and I chose not to seek out the light. Then you came into my life and you were so bright it hurt my eyes.” He was rambling, “Anyway, you might be a normie human but you’re my normie human! Whatever that Noble said to make you question that, it isn’t true.”

After a beat, you jumped into his arms. His heart was absolutely pounding as he wrapped you in his arms, he knew you’d hear it but he was relieved he somehow said the right thing.

Satan

He knew it was the Noble that caused your mood shift.

You retreated through a door, Satan didn’t have time to make the Noble suffer in the ways he was already imagining.

As he headed for the door himself, he bumped into Lucifer.

It was grinding on his nerves but for your sake he asked Lucifer to take care of the Noble.

Without question, Lucifer whisked off to take care of it. He probably knew it was important since Satan would never ask anything of Lucifer if it wasn’t necessary.

Satan picked up the pace to get to the door and catch you.

He looked down both sides of the connecting hall and found you leaning against the wall facing away from where you had come from.

As he approached he realized your shoulders were shaking. It broke his heart.

When he placed a hand on your arm, you jumped out of your skin and stepped away.

You relaxed seeing it was Satan and not someone else but making eye contact with him hurt, “Leave me alone, I just need a moment.”

You had turned to leave but he wasn’t letting you go again. He regripped your arm.

“Don’t go.”

“Satan…” You sighed trying to bring back some of your usual strength.

“Whatever that Noble said…” A thought dawned on him mid-sentence, “Did he do something to you?” The wrath in him bristled anew.

“He didn’t do anything besides point out some things.” You laughed weakly, “Actually he made some good points I should have seen for myself a long time ago.”

“What points did he make?” Satan asked.

You looked down the hall, debating an escape, “That I was just a pawn to Diavolo’s plans and a replacement for Lilith.”

“That’s not true,” Satan defended.

His tone of finality made you look back at him. He took the opportunity to explain.

“You’re no one’s pawn. You always had and will always have your free will to do as you want. Just as you’ve shown me that I’m my own being,” he held a hand to his chest, “You are your own person.”

You scoffed, “and being related to Lilith-”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Satan interrupted and finished the sentence. “I’ve heard all the stories from my brothers but I never met her. I met you though,” His hand moved down your arm to your hand.

Automatically you gave his hand a squeeze just falling into habit and he smiled.

“It doesn’t matter how you got here,” Satan started, hoping you would complete the quote from a book you both read.

Quietly you added, “All that matters is you’re here now.”

He pulled you into his arms and you let him engulf you in a warm embrace. It was so different from the sharp, cold feeling you got from the Noble that it felt like home to be here with him.

“I’ll always be here for you MC,” he whispered and you believed him.

Asmodeus

Well clearly something was wrong, you never pulled back from him like that.

He first looked around for some assistance. Things had been fine before your dance with the Noble so something happened in relation to that dance.

The first person he spotted was Satan. Asmo waved him over to the table. Satan nodded and departed from the company he had been talking to. Asmo quickly described the situation in a pretty grim light knowing exactly what would flip the wrath switch in Satan.

The blond demon stalked off after his newly provided prey.

Asmo checked his appearance in a pocket mirror before setting after you. It wasn’t like he had something on his face or a hair out of place that drove you off but he had to be sure.

He found you looking out over the Devildom with the most somber look on your face.

“MC~ You look absolutely stunning under the Devildom moon.”

You sighed.

That wasn’t the reaction Asmo was aiming for. “Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, love?”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to smile but it didn’t light up your face like he knew it could.

“Ok,” Asmo put up his hands. He could take a hint, you didn’t want to talk about it and he wasn’t going to push and make it worse. “Let’s go home then?”

“I know you don’t want to leave. You’ve been looking forward to this all month,” You looked back out at the cityscape.

“Well I don’t want to be here if you’re not having fun,” Asmo snaked an arm around your waist and looked out across the city himself.

He felt you stiffen under his touch and he tried very hard not to pout outwardly but you rejecting him really hurt.

He said he wasn’t going to push but he had to know, “Did the Noble say something unacceptable to you?”

“No, if anything it was too acceptable, factual even.” You leaned away from him and against the railing as your face soured further.

“What did he say?”

“That I’m being used,” you looked at him to see how he reacted to the second part, “by Diavolo and your family.”

His brow furrowed and you knew it was genuine emotion since he would never risk the wrinkles otherwise.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Asmo shook his head, “That’s absolutely not what’s happening.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “we all have our part to play.”

“MC,” Asmo took your shoulders and stared you down, “You are not just some pawn, you’re a very important human to me and my family!”

You looked to the side, “Only because I’m related to Lilith.”

“No? We love you for you!”

You blushed at his blunt honesty, “Oh.”

“Did you think that we didn’t care about you before we learned that you were distantly related?”

“No!” You defended, “But when he was laying out all the info, it did kind of seem like that.”

“Who are you going to trust? Some random or me?” Asmo batted his eyes at you.

After a moment you conceded, “You, of course.”

You both giggled and he whisked you to the dance floor to show you the best night of your life.

Beelzebub

“Wait MC-” Beel jumped up from table, his knees knocked it and it wobbled as he pushed his chair back.

“You couldn’t just leave like that,” he thought, “I can’t lose another…”

He found you on the front balcony. From what he could guess, you paused to take in the fresh air but then watched as you steeled yourself and briskly started your way down the stairs.

“MC,” he caught up easily even in his formalwear, “Let me at least walk you back to the dorm.”

You hesitated, not making eye contact with him, you shrugged, “fine.”

The two of you walked in silence. Beel had no idea what to say to make you stay. He cursed himself that words didn’t come as easily to him like Asmo or Mammon, he couldn’t relate it to something he read or watched like Satan or Levi usually did and he couldn’t think of the perfect solution like he knew Lucifer would.

He was the only thing standing between you and the metaphorical exit and he had to do something.

So he did the only thing he could think of and apologized. “I’m sorry.”

It made you stop, “What?”

“I’m sorry. If it was something I said or did or ate, I’m sorry. If it was one of my brothers then I’m also sorry. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.” Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t usually one to cry but he was so frustrated and felt so helpless. If this wasn’t what you wanted then you’d be gone.

“No,” you sighed, “I’m sorry, I took out my frustration on you. I’m not mad at you or your brothers. If anything, I’m mad at myself,” you laughed dryly.

“Yourself?” Beel repeated, trying to figure out how he could help you with that.

“Yeah, I should have seen it for myself but that Noble was right,” you continued onwards to HOL.

“Right about what?”

You finally looked at him and it crushed him to see the saddest smile on your face as you answered, “That I’m just some kind of replacement for Lilith. I thought you all really cared about me but your behavior did change after everyone learned I was related to her.”

Beel was frozen in shock. He watched you pick up walking home again.

“That’s not-” he started but you raised a hand to stop him.

“I get it, you guys were so happy that she lived that you wanted to show it in some way,” this time when you turned toward him you couldn’t keep the tears from falling, “and in a way I’m grateful because if I wasn’t her descendant then I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have met you all, and I wouldn’t have been a part of a family like yours. But I’m selfish and I wanted you to love me for who I am.”

He was finally unfrozen and wrapped you in a near-bone-crushing hug. “We do!” Beel confirmed, “We love you, MC!” He began crying, “I love you, please don’t leave.”

Enclosed in his arms, you felt his earnest emotions flood into you, “I believe you,” you wiped his tears, “Thank you for loving me.”

Belphegor

He knew it, that Noble was bad news.

Belphie looked around and easily found Asmo in the middle. He pushed past his fans and told Asmo what happened. Asmo left to take care of the Noble.

Belphie caught up with you in your room back at the HOL.

He had followed the noise and found you were angrily packing a bag, in between wiping your face.

“What’re you doing?” Belphie asked from the door.

The sudden voice made you jump, “Leaving.”

“Why?”

You paused, wringing the shirt in your hand, “We’d all be better off.”

“Because you’re a replacement?” Belphie threw your words back at you but realized his mistake too late.

When you shuddered and fell to your knees crying he wanted to disappear. How could he be so tactless?

“Yes! I’m not Lilith!” You cry-yelled at him. “I wanted so badly to be a part of your family. I did everything for you and your brothers to make amends, to prove myself and my intentions and it didn’t matter! The second you all learned about my lineage, it all changed.”

You sniffled and added, “You hated me for being a human, I’d almost prefer that if that is honestly how you feel about me.”

Ouch. But he deserved that, “I don’t hate you,” he knelt in front of you.

“I’m just a stupid human,” he grabbed your arms and pulled you into him as you sobbed, “I don’t want to be used as a pawn, and I’m not a replacement for your sister.”

“I know, MC,” Belphie soothed, “You’re not a pawn and we know you aren’t a replacement for Lilith.”

“B-but,” you blubbered.

“No buts,” there was an edge to his voice, that he wasn’t going to take any rebuttals. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to move forward as a family. We’d be worse off without you in our lives.”

You shifted back a bit to look at him, “Really?”

“Really,” Belphie verified. “Don’t go,” his voice caught in his throat, his own emotions finally hitting him. What would he do without you?

You grabbed his face, assessing for yourself. “Ok…ok.” You relaxed in his hold and finally felt secure in how he felt about you.

Diavolo

You ducked into the kitchen.

He tried to follow but got stopped by a high ranking demon that he could not brush off. He was trapped, that is until Barbatos caught his gaze.

The butler swooped in, distracted the demon with appetizers and began leading them away.

Ever grateful, Diavolo smiled and then another thought hit him. He stopped Barbatos and whispered in his ear what happened between you and the Noble. Barbatos nodded and made his way to find and complete his new task.

Diavolo jumped into the kitchen before anyone else could stop him.

“MC?” he looked around and found you sitting on the counter with your head in your hands. His heart dropped.

You sniffled, “Go back to your party.”

“I don’t feel like it.” he mused.

“What a spoiled prince,” you replied.

He felt hopeful, if you were joking then surely you would recover. “Won’t you tell me what happened?”

When you tensed, he stopped inching closer.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.”

“That’s not true,” Diavolo tried to take your hands but you fought him slightly, still trying to cover your face. When you finally relented and looked at him with tear stains on your face, he swore he never felt a greater rush of love and the need to protect like he did in that moment, “You’re so important to me.”

“Because I’m an exchange student?” You searched his face for any reaction.

“What?” He was actually dumbfounded. “You think that’s the only reason I care for you?”

“What other reason could there be? Isn’t that the whole point of why I was here in the first place?”

He paused to gather his thoughts. There were so many reasons to love you and the fact that you could be undone like this from one conversation proves that Diavolo was failing you. Still holding your hands, he raised one to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll admit that at first, my goal to build bridges between the realms was my focus, but as the program went on, I found myself looking forward to our meetings. Much to Barbatos’ chagrin, I would sneak out to steal a few moments with you and they meant everything to me.”

You had begun rubbing his hand with your thumb, tears were gone but you still looked sad.

He rested his forehead against yours, “I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I didn’t meet you. You’ve brought a joy and sense of adventure into my life that I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“Thanks Dia,” When you smiled softly, he could swear his heart was melting into a puddle. “I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Nonsense!” Diavolo laughed and backed up to help you off the counter, “The night’s still young and I think I owe you a dance.”

You squeezed his hand, “Wait, I probably look terrible from crying!”

The kitchen door swung open to Barbatos trying to hold back Asmo. Asmo chirped, “We can help with that!”

Diavolo laughed at the sight. Barbatos sighed and released Asmo as he whipped out his travel make-up kit and busied himself with you.

Barbatos stood next to Diavolo and in a hushed tone affirmed, “The target has been captured.”

A dark look passed over Diavolo’s face as he responded, “Good. We’ll deal with him in the morning.”

Barbatos

He wanted to chase after you but his duty was of course to Diavolo and the ball at hand.

Within a few moments, he reasoned that the ball was in danger of being compromised if you weren’t there and the Noble was allowed to roam free of consequence.

Barbatos wasn’t one to ask for help but he knew that if he mentioned the Noble’s actions to Lucifer, the demon would take matters into his own hands to deal with it and Lucifer did so.

That left him to track you down. He had a feeling of where he’d find you.

Out in the garden, seated on the bench, you were fidgeting with his handkerchief.

Careful to make noise as he approached you so as to not spook you with his usually silent steps, Barbatos sat on the other end of the bench.

He caught you peeking at him so he tried not to look directly at you, knowing it would make you feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for this,” you held out his handkerchief.

“Any time,” he accepted it and even through his gloves, he could feel the dampness. Had he left you alone for too long to have cried this much? Very slowly he folded the cloth and put it in his pocket.

“Also I’m sorry for my behavior before.” You shifted and began to explain, “I was confused and hurt, that Noble… actually nevermind.”

“There’s no need to apologize to me, though I am sorry for the distress you’ve gone through.”

Still bothered, you had to ask, “Why do you tolerate me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you only nice to me because you’re under orders to be?”

He couldn’t lie, “Lord Diavolo has directed me to be of use to the exchange students, but I’ve come to genuinely appreciate your company, if that isn’t too presumptuous.”

You peeked over again and could see a light blush on the butler’s cheeks, he wasn’t looking at you now out of embarrassment.

That earned a small smile, “It’s not, I’m grateful to hear your true feelings.” You paused thinking on what the Noble said, “Do you think the others feel the same? That they actually like me, not as some replacement for Lilith or as a tool to be used?”

Ah so that’s the idea that the Noble had planted, he rubbed his chin in thought. “While I can’t speak for the brothers, I can conclude that you mean much more to Lord Diavolo than he’d like to admit. He has never spoken ill of you in my presence. Even Lucifer, who has often verbalized his distaste for his brothers’ shenanigans, has never voiced the same of you even if you were involved in said shenanigans.”

“Well that’s something.”

“It certainly is,” He confirmed.

You giggled and it was like Barbatos was hearing his favorite song for the first time.

After a beat, he stood, brushed himself off more out of habit than any actual dirt accumulation and faced you. You looked slightly surprised. He bowed and offered his arm, “Shall we head back in?”

Hesitantly, you took his hand, “Can I stay with you?”

“If that is what you desire,” Barbatos smiled and led your hand to hold his arm, “How could I deny a direct request like that?”

Solomon

He was stunned for a minute. Had you meant him and you weren’t on the same page or the humans and the demons weren’t on the same page?

Solomon was pretty sure that the pacts were a clear indicator of a human and a demon being on the same page.

This was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of one of his new pacts, he sent the demon to gather as much information, good and bad, that they could dig up about the Noble that had danced with you.

If knowledge was power then he wanted as much knowledge on his side as he could get before making a move.

That left him free to follow you. He caught the sight of you as you left into an adjoining hallway.

Shuffling through the crowd he broke free and got himself through the door. He looked both ways and found you at the end, turning the corner.

Although not one for running, he jogged down the hall to catch up with you.

You had turned to watch for the approaching noise and at the sight of your watery eyes he skidded to a stop.

Solomon couldn’t remember a time when he had seen you cry, not like this, where your whole being seemed depleted.

“MC…”

“I’m fine,” you wiped the tears away quickly, “I was dumb for thinking that any of this meant something to them, that’s on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The exchange program, the demons, everything here was just all part of Diavolo’s plan and I played right into it.” Bitterly you added, “I was a pawn and I couldn’t even see it.”

“That’s not true,” Solomon rebuked. “I’m sure they did not count on you making pacts with the 7 demon brothers. They are extremely high ranking, that wasn’t an easy feat.”

“They’re not any better, they probably only did so because I was some sort of replacement for Lilith.”

“Lilith… oh yes the fallen angel that almost did not survive.” He nodded as he remembered, “Is that what they said when they made the pact with you?”

“Well not exactly…” you admitted.

“I see,” he took your hand and pulled you to a nearby bench, “I happen to know a bit about pacts.”

You rolled your eyes but he took it as a good sign, “And when entering the pact, usually one or both parties admit their reason behind entering the contract. Usually it’s the human asking for something only that demon can offer like money, power or influence, but that wasn’t the case for you was it?”

“No.”

“What was it that they were looking for from you?”

You didn’t answer for a while, thinking back on each of the pacts being forged. “If I had to sum it up for all of them, love or acceptance.”

Huh, that was pretty straightforward, Solomon wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. “That seems like something only you could have given them, I doubt they would want the same from me.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t say that, Asmo really loves you, he always talks about you.”

Solomon groaned for effect but you both knew he cherished the bond with the demon.

“You were never their pawn, they chose to offer the pact and you chose to accept, that was not something orchestrated by someone else.”

Finally, you nodded, seeing his perspective. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he joked.

With a light punch of his arm, you both made your way back to the party. Solomon planned on showing you a magical night.

Simeon

The walk back to Purgatory Hall was quick, too quick for Simeon to figure out what happened.

He’d seen you dancing but not who with, also why had you been in such a hurry to get away from the brothers? He thought things were going well with them.

“I’ll put on some tea, ok?” Simeon offered as you two entered the front door.

You nodded and sat at the table.

“Simeon~” Luke called, “You’re back early!” The cherub entered the room and saw you from behind, “And MC!? What a treat!”

Luke came up to your side and caught your sad expression before you could turn away. “What happened?” He shot an accusatory glare at Simeon.

Simeon looked shocked, Luke thought you were upset because of him?

“It’s nothing Luke,” you replied softly, “you were right, I shouldn’t have trusted demons.”

The two angels looked at each other shocked, neither had expected that. “Well of course!” Luke defended, “What did they do?”

You sighed, you didn’t see a way to brush them both off so you recanted the dance with the noble, the things he knew about you and the ideas he had brought to your attention.

Luke chomped down on a cookie, “Well he’s not wrong about Diavolo’s plan.”

“Luke,” Simeon admonished, “I’ve known Diavolo for a long time, he’s not one to use others for personal gain, even if he is a demon. He’s always preferred to do things his own way.”

“And those brothers?” Luke asked. You looked at Simeon expectantly, your face repeating the question, ‘And those brothers?’

“I’ve known them for a long time too. Of course they adored their sister Lilith, we all did. But no one could serve as her replacement because she was irreplaceable.” Simeon allowed that thought a moment to sink in. “I think that you've made your own bonds with them, different and separate from your ancestral lineage.”

“I suppose…” You conceded.

“Why do you even put up with them MC?” Luke offered.

Now you had to laugh, “For a while I thought they were the ones putting up with me.”

“No way!”

“Yes way,” you smiled at him as you sipped your tea. “I think you forget sometimes that you’re all powerful beings and I am not.”

Luke blushed, “You’re powerful, in your own way!”

“Thank you,” you put your hand on his cheek and he smiled.

You looked over at Simeon, “Can I spend the night here?”

Although he still sensed some sadness from you, it certainly was not the same level as he had felt when he bumped into you before.

“Yes!” Luke answered first, “Please Simeon!”

With the two of you giving him pouty looks, “How can I say no?”

“Yay!” Luke cheered and ran from the room, “Sleep over!”

“It’s alright if you’d rather not entertain Luke all night,” You offered, “I can go back to the HOL, I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not getting out of this that easy,” Simeon teased, “He probably has six movies lined up already and he has been practicing making pillow forts in his room.”

You both laughed, “I appreciate you listening Simeon, I’m glad I have a guardian angel like you,” you winked as you joined Luke on the floor. He did already have a stack of movies to watch.

Simeon blushed and then shook his head to clear his thoughts as he joined the blanket pile.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me angst

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lostinfantasyworlds · 2 years

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Oooohhhhh ROYALTY AU, please tell!

YAY I'm so happy you asked about this one @witchygirl99 and @liz8080!! Thank you! ❤️ ❤️

This is one of those stories that all started with one scene. It randomly popped into my brain while listening to a dark enemies-to-lovers/“falling in love with the villian” playlist on YouTube. Then I started to build a world and story around that.

Kagome is a princess with spiritual power, and her family/kingdom has guarded the Sacred Jewel for centuries.

After her father (the king) died a couple of years ago, her mother takes on the stress of making sure there will be a successor to guard the jewel. Kagome and her cousin Kikyo are the only ones left in the family who have spiritual powers, and neither have any interest in marrying/producing heirs.

Inuyasha is sort of a prince, but also a bastard, and his parents were tortured and killed during a mysterious attack on their castle when he was young. He now is (unwillingly) a knight in Naraku’s kingdom, because he took in the survivors after the attack (there’s a lot more to this whole dynamic where Naraku has an element of control over Inuyasha, but I don’t want to spoil too much!)

I still haven’t figured out the exact catalyst for bringing Inuyahsa and Kagome together (can’t decide if I want it to be an arranged courting/marriage prospect type of situation yet), but the eventual idea is that Kagome believes Inuyasha to be an enemy (or at least questions it) after they’ve already built up some feelings for each other. But shit eventually goes down and she decides to trust him and they work together to bring down evil/fall in love along the way

I still have some large gaps to figure out, and I haven't actually written much for this yet, but below the cut is a (still pretty rough writing-wise) snippet of the scene that inspired it all!

Full list of WIPs here

“Dammit, Kagome, I’m not your fucking enemy!” Inuyasha growled, taking a large step closer to her without breaking eye contact. She didn’t so much as flinch, even lowered her bow and arrow to her side, but the anger and wariness remained etched into her expression.

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

He was used to not being trusted. Most people automatically regarded him as a threat, especially those who believed the rumors about Naraku. Not that he could blame them. How were they supposed to know that he had no real choice over the despicable company he kept?

But it had always been that way for him, long before Naraku came along. Being the bastard half-breed child of a mighty king had marked him as an outcast from birth. Even his own half-brother had despised him. Every bad thing that happened in his vicinity was always blamed on him, no one ever believed his side of the story, and even those who didn’t outright look down on him still kept a healthy distance.

He may have been used to it…but something about Kagome seeing him in that light just didn’t sit well with him. Worse than that, it tore him apart from the inside, and he was overcome with a desperate need to let her in on his true intentions, to show her his truest self. He had never met someone who seemed to genuinely care for him the way she did, who let their guard down around him, who even shed tears for his sake.

The fact that he had come to crave her company so much was absolutely terrifying, but in that moment he was finally able to admit it to himself. For the first time, outside of revenge, he truly wanted something.

He wanted her.

“Well, then, what are you?!” Kagome finally asked with a twinge of exasperation. “Because I —”

Throwing all caution to the wind, Inuyasha closed the distance between them, grasped her cheeks between his palms, and kissed her.

The pressure of his lips was firm, but his grip on her jaw was feather-light, leaving her the opportunity to step away if she wanted to. After hearing her surprised gasp and feeling her go still with shock, he was convinced that she was about to do just that. But to his surprise, she reciprocated only a moment later, and with a clatter that echoed throughout the jewel room, her bow fell to the floor as her arms wrapped around his back to pull him closer.

And just like that, a fire erupted inside of him unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Right and wrong no longer held meaning, because he hadn’t known what right truly felt like before Kagome’s lips had pressed against his own.

#wip #wip game #inukag #royalty au

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yourlocalweirdo-3000 · 3 years

Text

sanemi x reader, platonic genya x reader

a/n: okay there's barely any x reader stuff in this, it's basically you comforting these boys, y'know y'know *gay hand flap* (i'm LGBTQ+ dw I'm not like, appropriating the hand flap thing or whatever). Anyhow, enjoy <3

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

GENRE: Fluff, Comfort. Reader is a demon, and a demon slayer. Gender-neutral reader as well.

WARNINGS: Sanemi cussing, feelings of loneliness, a whole lotta comfort and acceptance. Sanemi briefly threatening you and you not putting up with it. It's mentioned that Sanemi is a little taller than you.

Genya was always alone. That's something you noticed. Tanjiro was the only one who made a real effort to be around him. It made you sad, because you knew how it felt, and how lonely he must be feeling. No one made the effort to be around you, either, besides Tanjiro.

It started with bringing him food. You asked him if you could join him while he ate, and were pleasantly surprised that he agreed. He was so shy at first, and didn't really make conversation, but you didn't mind. And that was the start of your friendship; you'd bring him food, ask him how his day was, and wish him a good night's rest when it was over. You did this whenever you could, and sometimes Tanjiro joined you. It was remarkably peaceful.

Eventually, Genya opened up to you. He'd talk in more detail about how his day went, and he'd even share stories with you about what happened on his missions. You complimented him on his vulnerability, telling him how strong it was to be vulnerable. He'd duck his head and tell you it really wasn't, which sent a sharp feeling of pain in your heart. Did he really not see himself as strong, the way you did? You let it be, for now.

You opened up about your past. How you became a demon, and how you lost your family. Genya was very accepting, and it made you feel a lot better about it. And then, he told you about his past too. About how his mom turned into a demon, about how Sanemi had to kill her, about how truly weak he felt. He told you about how Sanemi no longer acknowledged him. It hurt your heart, but you knew it hurt Genya's heart even more so.

"Can I please hug you?" You pleaded. This kid was so hurt, you just wanted to make him feel better in any way you could. He nodded without meeting your eyes, and you embraced him.

He was a little unsure at first, almost like he forgot how to hug, but soon he gripped you like his life depended on it. You pretended not to notice his tears on your haori.

I guess Sanemi caught wind of it, because it wasn't long before he threatened you to stay away from his brother. Although not much taller than you, he cornered you against a wall and was dangerously close to choking you.

"Sanemi Shinazugawa." Your voice was firm, almost angry, and you said his full name like a mother did when she meant business. "As much as I want to listen to you, I'm not going to leave Genya alone. He's hurting, Sanemi, and contrary to what you think, pushing him away and ignoring him is only going to make it worse."

"And what the fuck do you know?!" He seethed.

You were close to snapping. "I know more than you, child, I am centuries older than you." You shoved him away from you, and advanced on him until he was the one backed up against the wall. "How do you not realize that the whole reason he's doing this demon slayer thing, is to get your attention?! How do you not realize that by ignoring him, you're practically digging him an early grave?!"

You glared up at him, and he tried to regain control of the situation.

"How dare you—"

"No, how dare you." Your passions clashed, there was a moment of dead silence, and then your gaze and voice softened. "Please, Sanemi. I don't want him to be a demon slayer any more than you do. If you're serious about protecting him, you should help me. He needs you, he really does, and he tells me how much he misses you every day."

You see the resolve in his eyes waver, and his lip quivers briefly, but you don't have a chance to examine this before he shoves you off of him and strides away. You sigh, and pray that the relationship between these brothers would get better.

A few nights later, when you return to your room, Sanemi is there. He sits on your futon with his gaze focused on the ground. He doesn't respond to your tentative greeting, sighing instead as he prepares to say his next words.

"...How do I help him?" His voice is so soft when he says this that you can't hardly believe it's Sanemi who said it. He's never showed such vulnerability with you.

You smile. "First, you've gotta show him that you care. Then I'll help you convince him to leave the Demon Slayer Corps. And you need to talk about why you pushed him away; not only would it help convince him to leave the Corps, it would help mend the relationship between you two."

Sanemi nods somberly, still with his back facing you. "...How do I show him that I care?"

"Well, you could join us for dinner tomorrow. I'll be there too; I can help break the ice and stuff if you're worried about it being awkward."

Sanemi nods again, and gets up to leave the room. He pauses at the doorway though, and says thank you in a voice so quiet you barely catch it. And then he's gone.

The next evening, you're sitting with Genya as usual. He's chatting with you happily, and you tell him that there's a surprise coming soon. He asks what it is but you simply put a finger against your lips, indicating that you weren't going to tell him. When Sanemi shows up, Genya falls silent, eyes wide and mouth open with shock. The quiet continues for a beat before Sanemi awkwardly says "hi" and joins you both on the ground with his own meal in his hands.

Genya stares. He looks at you, flicks his gaze back to Sanemi, and back to you. "Is this real...?"

You nod with a hopeful smile, reaching out and squeezing Genya's hand for reassurance. He smiles wide, looking absolutely ecstatic at this turn of events, and soon enough the three of you are having normal conversation. Sanemi, however, is uncharacteristically quiet, and soon asks if he can speak to his brother alone.

This makes Genya nervous, and he quickly looks to you for reassurance.

"It's alright, he's not going to be mean." You slap Sanemi on the back a little bit too hard, reminding him that you can and would beat his ass if he hurt Genya. Sanemi growled at you but didn't retaliate. "I'll be around if you need me."

You pick up their empty bowls and leave, making sure that wherever you ended up wandering to, you wouldn't be able to hear them.

After a moment, Sanemi tries to start a serious conversation. He apologizes to Genya, and explains his reasoning for pushing Genya away. Genya nearly cries, and exclaims his forgiveness.

"Please just be my brother again. Please." Genya begs, and it strikes a chord within Sanemi. The brothers share a hug, and that's about all the sappiness Sanemi can take. He bids goodbye, promises to see Genya again tomorrow, and leaves.

Genya sits there, starstruck. He's so happy to have his brother back he can hardly contain himself. He runs to find you, and when he does, he nearly bowls you over with his hug.

"Thank you thank you thank you !!" He doesn't even bother trying to hide his tears. You pat his back and laugh with joy. Genya breaks away from you, hands on your shoulders, and asks you how you did it.

You shrug. "I was just honest, I guess. I don't really know how I managed it; I'm just really glad it worked out."

Genya's smile is contagious, and you can't stop grinning yourself. You invite him in your room because he clearly wants to talk about it.

Time seems to get away from you as you conversate. At some point while you're talking, you notice that he's fallen asleep, and sigh happily. You tuck him in as a mother would, and go and get a futon for yourself before rejoining him in your room and laying it next to his. It's not long before you're fast asleep as well.

#sanemi x reader #genya x reader #comfort #fluff #my writing #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #genya shinazugawa #kny sanemi #kny genya #kny scenario #kny scenarios

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simping-hours-are-24-7 · 3 years

Text

Last Night, Good Night, Dear Husband Mine

[Spoilers for CH 20]

[Scene: It’s been a few hours into the farewell party when MC realizes there is a missing brother. Taking care not to be noticed, they slip from the attic and instead wander the hall, hoping to find Lucifer soon. Then, from the secret study within the library, the faint sound of music floats by. They hesitate at the door, not sure if they should go in or go back to the attic.]

Lucifer: Instead of lurking outside, why don’t you come in?

MC: Ah! You caught me!

Lucifer: Well, it wasn’t particularly hard not to, you weren’t being subtle in the slightest. Come, sit. It sounds like there is quite a party in the attic. And with everyone busy up there, I can stay here and enjoy my music in peace for once.

MC: *sits down and tilts their head in thought* What is it you're listening to? It sounds familiar.

Lucifer: I’m not surprised you recognized it. It’s nice, don’t you think? It’s the cursed The Tale of the Seven Lords vinyl soundtrack, which you managed to get from Levi for me.

MC: Isn’t it the type of curse that says that you’ll die if you listen to it?

Lucifer: That’s right. I see you haven’t forgotten the story behind it. Still, while it is true that all the humans involved with its creation died under mysterious circumstances, it was nothing but a mere coincidence. And even if it was a cursed record, look who you are sitting with right now. You’re here chatting with one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. So you don’t have anything to worry about, now do you. Simply put, it means that you can stay here with me a bit longer and welcome to stay and listen.

MC: Thanks Lucifer, I appreciate it.

Lucifer: …

MC: …

Lucifer: It was in this very room that I chose you for the exchange program. When you first arrived, I only welcomed you here for Lord Diavolo’s sake. I thought as long as you managed to survive a year here in the Devildom without any incidents, that was the best I could ask for. Even when things didn’t go as planned, as long as you weren’t eaten by lower-leveled demons, everything would be all right. At least, that’s what I thought...

Lucifer: *sighs* But somehow I managed to choose a troublemaker of a human that almost defies all belief, wouldn’t you say? There were many times when I have thought that I made a mistake choosing you.

MC: *with a small frown* That’s a little bit rude. And now? Was it a mistake?

Lucifer: *smirks* What do you think? I believe that you know the answer by now. In the end, you were the right choice for this program. You and your antics have kept me quite entertained over the past year. In fact, it was probably the most entertained I’ve been in centuries.

MC: *smiles* I’m glad that I’ve kept you entertained. It seems like you needed it.

Lucifer: Perhaps. So then, MC, have you finished all that you set to do here in the Devildom? No loose ends or unfinished business?

MC: You know, I’ve still haven’t made a pact with you yet.

Lucifer: A pact? I see. You have made pacts with all my brothers. Truly, do you wish to make a pact with me? I don’t know how my brothers felt when they went about making a pact with you, but I am more than just another name to be crossed off your list. I will not have you lump me in together with everyone else. That won’t do.

[Lucifer rises out of his seat quickly, easily transforming into his demonic form. MC, in response, also shoots up into a stand and stands their ground, easily staring back into Lucifer’s ruby red eyes.]

Lucifer: Ho? Not going to run, are you? You certainly have guts. That aspect of yours is something that I’ve found particularly irritating. But just as irritating it is, it’s even more endearing. Now listen here, and listen well human. *He leans forward and stares into MC’s eyes with a stern gaze* I will not your possession. I will not belong to you, you will belong to me. So, what will it be? Will you make a pact with me, MC?

MC: *steps forward and takes Lucifer’s hands into theirs* Of course, I’ll make a pact with you Lucifer.

Lucifer: *a surprisingly gentle smile rests on his face as he kisses the top of MC’s hands* I am Lucifer, Avatar and Lord of Pride, the Oldest of the Seven Sins. By this name and blood shall our souls lay bound together. From now until the end of time, MC, you are mine.

[A flood of Infernal magic buried itself into MC’s soul, another claim inscribed deep. As he feels his magic lay claim to MC, Lucifer smirks, pulls away, and sits back down in his chair, his demon form once again hidden.]

Lucifer: Now then, I assume that takes care of everything then?

MC: *smirks in return and leans down towards Lucifer, both arms resting on the armrest of his chair essentially trapping him in his seat. And when Lucifer leans back slightly, their smirk grows* There is still something I have to do, Lucifer dearest.

Lucifer: *a small blush lights up his cheeks as his eyes widen slightly at the closeness* Oh? Is there?

MC: There is. *they lean forwards slowly as if waiting to see Lucifer’s reaction before properly leaning in to kiss him*

Lucifer: *he melts into the kiss before pulling away slightly* MC… I’ve always known that you wanted to do this. I wonder how long you have waited.

MC: *laughs softly* That’s something I’ll never tell Lucifer. Or should I say husband dearest?

Lucifer: Husband, huh? I suppose that makes you my spouse as well. And I believe you know what married couples do on their wedding nights?

MC: *they smile and shift their weight onto one hand, the other gently running up his arm up towards his shoulder.* Luci, I believe that you have it wrong. I don’t belong to you. This pact is of us two at an equal standing.

MC: *their fingers skim the little skin showing on Lucifer’s neck before grabbing hold of his tie and pulling him closer* So listen well, husband mine. I am more than happy to “consummate” our marriage. But remember that you don’t own me. I have long known of your desire for me and we won’t be leaving this room until morning. Is that alright with you dearest?

Lucifer: *smiles softly as he pulls them in for another kiss* I wouldn’t have it any other way love.

[My Vow to You Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]

[AN: So that's all seven brothers and completed at last ^u^. but if y'all want me to continue with this series with the now dateables, let me know and I'll see what I can do!]

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #gn!mc #poly!mc #My Vow To You #its been 4 months #so sorry for the wait #but I hope you guys like this

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apparentlyaswarmofbees · 4 years

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can you do a hc of the bros and would they help mc feel better. like mc is sad and what would the brothers say and do to make them feel better. idk if this has been done so yeah :)

Lol, let's see if I remember what being sick is like, haven't caught a single cold since the start of the year, and thank fuck for that too-

Also, once again, one more time, third time actually, it's hard to focus things on the MC as I try to make it possible for many to put themselves in the story (I know I have written one on MC liking insects but that was very self indulgent lol)

I will change things up a bit on the request, but if it was with my own MC, she would be fairly practicle, checking up on the brothers, giving them water and asking if they wanted food, even keeping company if not contagious. It will look like she is just being considerate but it actually pains her to see them sick, it's just that she is used to expressing herself in acts of service.

When Your Seven Demons Get Sick

Warning: a LOT of uncensored swearing

Lucifer

We all know this can go two ways: either this piece of shit refuses to acknowledge that he is coughing like a damn nuclear explosion or he responsably takes his work home and refuses to fully rest because he needs to keep and eye on not only his brothers but also on the man child he works under that he somehow has come to fondly call a best friend.

So, yeah, tomato tomato.

His stress is reaching levels higher than celestial realm and he definetelly has been staring at a piece of document for way too long and not making any progress.

You will have to literally german suplex this man into his bed if you want him to get more than 5 seconds of shut eye.

It will take a while for his brain to process that 'oh yeah he can trust you to keep at least 10% of the house intact while he recovers'.

He may be a bit insufferable as he will attempt to work again, but it is a very adorable sight to have him whining, being way too happy at small gestures, and of course, his squishy cheeks as he sleeps soundly.

Mammon

As long as he is being dramatic about it, you know he will live.

Though he probably won't realize he even is ferverish until someone points it out that his responses are much slower than normal.

Like, it took him one second too long to screech in terror and start running for his life when he spotted Levi's all nighter dying body crawling out of his bedroom!

And oh yes was he delighted to be deprived of his obligation to go to RAD until he got back to his full health.

Until he was not allowed to not do anything but rest for the entire day that is.

Yes he will be restess and willing to do anything just to be allowed to stand on the front porch for five seconds and yes you will end up threatening to tie him to the bed in a non kinky way and yes you will only be half joking.

Just make sure to keep close attention to his levels of drama so that you can spoil him properly when he truly feels bad.

Leviathan

With him it can also go two ways: either he also doesn't fully realize until someone points it out or he will immediatelly let you a "Oh hell no" the moment he gives out a single cough that feels just a little bit out of the ordinary.

How he will take care of himself, if at all, will depend of the situation.

If there is absolutely nothing to lose from being sick other than the hability to breathe through his nose he would definetelly spent the entire recovering process binge watching slice of life animes while laying confortably on his tub.

If he had plans related to the things he is passionate about though?

I wish you luck because he is definetelly not backing down and will consequently make himself even more sick afterwards.

Although the extremelly satisfied expression we wears even when he can barely laugh without having a coughing fit kind of makes it all worthy in the end.

Satan

The most chill sick person you will ever encounter and will always make sure to be responsable and nurture himself back to full health.

The catch though?

This big brained idiot definetelly doesn't know how to judge between what is small cold and straight up dying when it's about his own body.

So yes he is the kind of person who will always take some painkillers, drink water, lay on bed and read a book until he falls asleep no matter what the fuck he actually has.

So much for knowledge is power smh.

First off, he deserves to be vibe checked with the thickest medicine book you can find in the cluttered mess he calls a bedroom.

Second off, he is so much more prone to being pissy when he's sick. It's almost funny how fast he goes from :) to >:( in half a second the moment someone who isn't you steps inside his bedroom.

And last but not least, cat videos. No further explanation needed.

Asmodeus

Oh someone have pity on this poor baby. He took so much care to not get himself sick and has managed to avoid even the worst of pandemies for centuries! So why now?!

He is basically so desperate to recover to the point he actually makes it take longer due to him stressing things out.

And he feels so sticky, he will basically want to take 5 showers per day.

Also his voice is basically gone?? And that just makes him want to s c r e a m ????

Locks himself inside his bedroom and throws a pity party.

Many of his posts on the media are something like "Oh no! I think I got sick? I am feeling a bit under the weather right now so, will you nurse me back to health~? Pretty please~ ❤" while in real life he is pretty much sneezing and coughing at the same time every 5 minutes.

If you bring him consolation sweets he might cry. Both because you're making him happy and because he is definetelly going to have to lose those extra calories later.

As much as he wants to cuddle he doesn't let you too close in case it's contagious and damn if he isn't rocking the pale skin, runny nose and swollen eyes.

He doesn't agree.

Beelzebub

Big boy is definetelly one of the easiest demons to take care of when sick seeing he will to his most to not feel like a chore to you.

Yes he will lie when he feels unwell so that you don't worry.

And that's when you should vibe check him with a spoon.

Like yes you may be getting out of your way to take care of him but no it's no problem at all because yes you love him a lot and would do anything to see him get better and you know he would to the same if not more for you if switched places.

Happiness is the re ocurring 'aah's as you spoon feed your bed ridden man and watching as he keeps on smiling throughout each bite and eats everything like a good boy.

But you can't tell me he doesn't manage to get drunk on cough syrup though.

He is definetelly not as hungry as usual but damn this cough syrup tastes great.

The results are Beel going on a cursed chain of crypid comments in which he makes sure to whisper them in the strangeat ways you could imagine at the most random times always giving a happy smile once he is done.

He apparently doesn't recall any of it the next day-

Belphegor

How he reacts to being sick completely depends on who is close enough to hear him whine.

Most of the time, whenever he feels anything out of ordinary, he will immediately text Beel in case this is just one more of their cases of twin-powers.

If he is actually sick though?

He will not stop whining, but then he gives a cute smile when he sees you and even makes a motion closely resembling grabby hands with his fingers as he raises one arm in your direction while saying some shit like "I missed you" when you literally were only gone for exactly 2 minutes to go grab him a cup of water and I think you can understand the power this little of shit has.

Be prepared to roll your eyes so much your eyes will probably start hurting.

The good side though? He is the only brother who listens exactly to what you tell him to do without feeling bad about being a burden. Though it's all because he doesn't wants you to worry about him any further than necessary.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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