#mc showcase | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aroseforyounme · 2 months ago

Text

Part 2

Cw: child abuse-verbal/emotional and physical, depression, disassociation, self-esteem issues

notes: caleb x non mc!reader; unrequited love

Author’s note: Hi! I didn’t expect anyone was going to read this tbh! This chapter is heavy and deals with a lot of the content warnings above. I do not go into significant detail but they are there and prevalent. This first part especially is a bit rough. Please take care of yourself and if you click out, then no worries! Thank you for reading with me so far 🙂

Part 1

Here you go: @athyend, @calebsnumberoneapple, @reni502, @justpassingdontworry, @mcdepressed290, @gojosbedwarmer, @cassiesversion Thank you for reading :)

Your mother told you not to fall in love. The few times she was home and the even fewer times she deemed it necessary to grace you with her presence, she’d sit you down in front of your home’s overly ornate fireplace, and tell you that singular line. She was only ever gentle then, her hands carefully rising from her lap to cup your cheeks. She was silent in those moments-her eyes glazed over as though she was staring into a reflection of herself from years ago.

“Do not fall in love, no matter what you do,” she said and would say for years to come.

(She’d say it long after her hair would turn gray, still shining due to the copious amounts of products she imported for that very purpose. Her hands, gnarled and unable to stand the test of time, would come to rest against your cheeks, just as tender as before. You were older now, a grown adult, but still that mistake of a child to her. She would repeat this every year, and every year you were made to listen.)

This you, the you forced to sit on that leather couch and dab at the tears collecting in the corner of your mother’s eyes (the ones she refused to even acknowledge but would throw a fit if they made a mess of her makeup), was 18. Graduation was around the corner and you could feel the anticipation coiling in the air. It swirled around everyone, made a living underneath their skin and manifested in jitters they either didn’t want to stop or couldn’t. You, on the other hand, it avoided with the sort of single minded determination that would be funny if it didn’t leave you feeling numb.

It was a year of reminiscing, of looking back and looking forward. It was a year of goodbyes, shouted with glee or forced out through a throat thick with tears. It was a year of endings and beginnings.

Caleb was going to fly, his evol practically his love letter to that profession. MC, when she graduated, was going to be a Hunter, her eyes shining with fierce determination whenever she’d brought it up. And you?

Well.

Linkon U was the school you chose because your mother, for all that she rarely ever saw you, threw a fit when you mentioned moving to Chansia or Goldwood City. She nearly vomited in her tirade when you said you wanted to pursue art. And she threw damn near every single bit of glass on the floor when you whispered the possibility of never coming back. None of them hit you, but they fell and shattered against the ground with such violence you wondered if that distinction even mattered.

The silence she left when she hurried out of the house was suffocating. She practically ran out of the place, her face pinched and eyes squinted shut as if she couldn’t force herself to see the damage she had created. She left you to deal with the consequences of her actions. You didn’t move for a long while, merely stared at the glass surrounding you, a reminder of the cage she had built all while she could experience all the world had to offer. Your reflection blinked back at you, just as expressionless, and something twisted inside of you as you stared at the nothing she had forced you to become.

A ghost, a spectator to everything and everyone else’s life. A shade, forced to hide in the shadows while everyone else got to bask in the sun. Nothing but a wisp of a person. That was you. That would always be you.

Chest feeling tight, you moved, your body careening to the side and almost toppling over your dining chair. The shards of glass splintered further underneath and all around you, responding to the turmoil underneath your skin. You could feel them heat and turn molten underneath your raging emotions. They would’ve burnt a hole into your mother’s cherished hardwood floors had something in the back of your mind not hissed and you levitated them slightly up. It was as though that was the invitation they needed as they whizzed around, fizzing and popping in equal measure. Bits and pieces would splash across your skin and you stared, detached, as the heat of it barely reacted against your skin.

‘Ah,’ you thought, a hysterical laugh built upon years of silent acceptance bubbled up to the surface, ‘I will die here and not even this house will mourn me.’

You didn’t notice your phone buzzing-didn’t notice the way it rang against your skin as glass melted and reformed around you over and over and over again. You were floating, breaths coming out in sharp pants and body swaying from the left and to the right, guided only by the spinning bits of molten glass. It left you in a precarious bubble, one you wouldn’t (couldn’t) break. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

You didn’t notice the door opening, didn’t notice the slightly hurried footprints or the sharp inhale. You didn’t hear the quiet whisper of your name, sharp and then soft as they took in the scene, the way you were curled in on yourself, tight and shivering. You didn’t feel their presence as they got closer, crouched as close to your body as they possibly could, mindful of the burning glass twisting around you.

But you felt the weight-a shift in the pressure around you as you suddenly felt heavier. It wasn’t overwhelming, merely a minute shift in your gravitational center, but it was enough. You weren’t back in your body, not fully, but you could feel it in a way that wasn’t real to you before. It felt heavy, awkward, and part of you wanted to go back to floating above it all but you knew better. You didn’t rise from your curled up position, didn’t do anything but shift your head slightly and squint at the lights.

He was sitting there, bathed in the unforgiving glow of your kitchen light. Brow furrowed, his eyes tracked the glass swishing around you. His hand twitched and you noticed slightly more pressure around you. Your body, alight with tingles only the freshly awakened dead could feel, didn’t register this added pressure. No, it was the glass around you, slowly hardening, that registered this change. They lowered slightly, just enough for him to notice you watching.

The smile formed on his face slowly, first on the outer edges and then fully. As though he was unsure which smile to give you: the concerned one, filled with sympathy and warmth, or the encouraging one, filled with strength and purpose. The smile he gave was a mixture of the two, unsure of its own purpose and real for that alone. He looked at you and then opened his arms, an invitation freely given.

You did not make a sound when the glass around you dropped to the floor. You did not cry when you crashed into his arms and wrapped yourself around him like a snake. You did not say a word when you buried your face in his neck and breathed deeply.

You didn’t say a word, but something within you, a peony against concrete, bloomed further.

‘I’m not going to love you,’ you thought, wrapped in his arms as you were, ‘please do not let me fall in love with you.’ Caleb, unaware of your thoughts and so incredibly warm and present in these moments, merely hugged you tighter to him.

(It only until later when you’d removed yourself from his embrace and got to work cleaning up and fixing the glass that you recognized the futility of that plea. He was standing next to you, his reflection bouncing off each piece of glass you slowly fused together. His presence filled you with the sort of stability you were infusing into the glass. It held you together with a tender sort of gentleness-like he’d seen the cracked pieces and accepted them all the same.

It was humbling. Terrifying. Freeing.

Warm.

And you, so tired of feeling the chill of a life half-lived, fell into it. You did not care if it was meant to be yours; in this moment, in this singular moment, you allowed yourself to feel selfish. You fell into that warmth, an imitation of the sun created just for you.)

The day before graduation was sunny, the temperature well above what you found acceptable to do anything, much less walk around the city’s town square. MC had insisted the two of you hunt for Caleb’s graduation gift, wrapping a hand around your arm and pulling you out of the house the moment she sensed even a hint of hesitation on your part.

(It’s not as though it really took much to get you out of the silence your home had become ever since that night. Your mother’s presence, generally oppressive when forced to be in your proximity, had dwindled to nothing. She rarely came home, her visits fewer than ever. The silence should’ve been nice, the mutual decision to stay away from each other should’ve felt freeing.

It didn’t. It wasn’t. A part of you wondered if you could ever please her. The answer to that, you knew, but still you tried. Fruitlessly, hopelessly, you tried.

And you were worse off for it.)

And so here the two of you were, blistering hot underneath the heat of the sun, unhindered by any clouds, searching for a present worthy of Caleb.

MC was the one to spot the store, practically skipping in with you trailing behind her. The jewelry store was tucked in slightly, squished between a trendy cafe and an inviting bookstore. There weren’t too many customers, merely an elderly couple who, in the midst of their quiet giggling, bought a ring to commemorate 50 years together.

MC sighed quietly, dropping slightly into your arms to grin up at you.

“Let’s get one when we’re 50,” she said, her voice soft with affection. She didn’t give you a second to respond, already moving past the moment like she hadn’t caused a ripple in your stomach, hadn’t caused you to actually think of a life past the here and now. It was amazing, how she spoke of the future without a hint of uncertainty, how she’d already decided that her future would include you in it, steady and unchanging.

‘No,’ you thought, watching MC flit from section to section, testing out different types of jewelry, ‘that isn’t it.’

She didn’t see you as unchanging-she just thought that you would grow together. And something about that made your stomach clench and your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You wanted in that moment. You didn’t know what it was, but you wanted so very badly.

When MC pulled forth a silver dog tag, beaming over at you and proudly proclaiming that “this is the one!” When she hurried over to the jeweler, mouth already moving to ask for it to be engraved, when she looked over to you to ask if you wanted to add to this, all you could do was smile.

You reached into your pocket, hand already manipulating the glass into the shape you wanted it to be, your mind flitting through memories of Caleb and his smiles, the food he still brought over despite it being years, the hugs that lingered, the smile that fit any and all occasions.

You thought of apples-how you followed him along on one of his trips to the grocery store and watched him test each one for any abnormalities. You thought of how he would carefully cut them, sometimes into thick wedges, other times into random shapes-sometimes easily identifiable, other times unrecognizable.

You thought of the sun-of the way he lit up around MC and she in turn with him. How MC smiled with reckless abandon, unaware of the daze she put everyone in. You thought of how warm she was, how she came by day after day after day, chasing away any chill in your home. You thought of how much she shined and worried about whether it would ever be too much for her.

You thought of Caleb. You thought of MC. And the glass charm that you pulled out: a bright red apple with a miniature sun around it, represented the two of them. It was Caleb and it was MC, made by your hands. It was something tying the 3 of you together.

You reinforced the glass, mentally pushing as much durability as you possibly could. It wouldn’t break, not unless you willed it.

It was beautiful. The finished piece caught the light in just the right way that the apple shined. MC blinked and grinned back at you, nodding her head as if to commend you for your choice.

You weren’t there when MC handed Caleb the necklace, weren’t there when she explained that it was a present from you and her. You weren’t there to see the flicker in Caleb’s eyes when she pointed to the apple and said you made it. The way he caressed the glass while he brought it closer to inspect it. His voice shook slightly when he commented on the craftsmanship, on the care you’d employed to make it. You weren’t there to see him notice the words etched onto the metal, weren’t there to see his eyes widen and a smile, syrupy sweet, settle on his lips. You weren’t there to see him insist MC put it on him, weren’t there to see him gently caress the words long after she left.

You were home, quietly tucking your mother into bed. She had cried some more after getting you to promise yet again that you would never fall in love. Her face had crumpled, collapsing in on itself with the weight of her cries, and you could do nothing but hold her. You lied and told her you weren’t in love, lied and told her that there was no one that made your heart race and your palms turn clammy. You lied and told her there was no one occupying your heart or your lungs or had dominion over the butterflies in your stomach. You lied because you knew her cries would only get uglier if she knew the truth.

That you were already far gone.

Instead of a phone call that night, he came to you. You were sitting at your customary spot against your window when you noticed his form glide up from the ground to hover in front of you. He tapped the window twice, teasingly asking you to let him in and chuckling softly when you blinked back at him, nonplussed. Shaking your head-and pretending as though you weren’t flustered by his sudden appearance-you opened the latch to your window. He floated through, winking at you before he settled into the floor of your home-your room.

He’d never been in your room-neither of them have now that you thought about it. You had always met them downstairs, in the easily showcased portions of your home. Sure, Caleb had seen the ugliness of broken glass and an empty fridge, but watching him stand there in the middle of your room felt too revealing. It felt as though, with one quick glance across your room, he’d see more than you were ready to show-the parts of you tucked away, only to be pulled out under the cover of darkness, alone.

The most revealing thing about your room could be that there wasn’t much in there at all. No posters were on your wall. No bookshelf took up space along the wall either. There was no desk. There was just a bed, resting against a metal bed frame. The dresser was pushed to the side, and on it were the only decorations you managed to acquire: several photos of you, MC, and Caleb, of just you and MC, and of just you and Caleb. There was a singular photo of your mother, worn down on the edges and slightly stained like you had grabbed it from the trash. There were some random bits of glass, misshapen bits that seemed to resemble apples and stars and suns. There was a singular notebook resting on that dresser, black and unobtrusive, it held all your ideas.

Beyond that, though, your room was empty. It was large, but that did nothing but make the space feel emptier. You sat there, back straight against your window, staring with baited breath as Caleb’s eyes slowly swept across the room before settling back onto you.

He didn’t comment on the room because of course he wouldn’t. He just looked at you, taking in your expression, before walking towards you. Crouching in front of you, his hand rested against your knee, the action smooth and easy despite it wreaking havoc on your insides. He said nothing, waiting, with the sort of patience you thought was reserved for MC, for you to look at him. When you did, your heart jack hammering in your chest, he offered you a smile, slow and beautiful like the setting sun behind you.

“There you are,” he whispered, his voice pitched low. His hand moved from your knee with deliberate slowness, settling against your calf and carefully massaging the muscle there, “I thought you were hiding from me for a second there.”

You hummed softly, pitching forward to catch the way the fading light rested against his eyes, bringing out bursts of color you hadn’t seen before. The purple, predominant as always, blazed underneath the light of the sun.

‘Beautiful,’ you thought, heart aching with so many emotions you couldn’t even possibly start cataloging them, ‘so very beautiful.’

He moved closer to you in the silence, the hand caressing your calf moving back up to your knee and squeezing. You opened your legs, letting him settle in between and pitch forward into your already open arms. He nuzzled into your neck, breathing deeply before wrapping his own arms around you. It was grounding, safe. It was Caleb.

‘I love you,’ you almost said, the words sticking to the roof of your mouth before dying, ‘I am so incredibly in love with you, I can barely breathe.’

“Come back safe,” you said instead, inhaling the words you really wanted to say and breathing this out instead, “and when you come back, you have to tell me all about how cool Skyhaven is.” He huffed out a laugh against you, squeezing once before pulling back slightly to tap your nose.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” his voice was low, but no less teasing. He didn’t remove himself from your embrace, didn’t reestablish any sort of space between the two of you. It was just you and Caleb, wrapped up in each other in the dying light of your room.

You held him close, and for that moment, that singular moment that you wished you could extend for a lifetime, you pretended he was yours.

#caleb x non mc reader #your honor they're just friends-i say before i get hit with stones #i wanted to showcase that reader likes caleb for a reason in this chapter #and also showcase that you are also a friend to MC #did i succeed?#next one will be full throttle angst i fear

110 notes · View notes

phonyroni · 6 months ago

Text

I know you would expect the audio to be reversed but like... She is the squirrel to his golden retriever ✨

#keyframes vn #keyframes elio #keyframes mc #keyframes fanart #raine's videos #keyframes #this is just their dynamic and i find it very cute #i want to showcase more MCs of mine since i love them all dearly #lmk if i should draw any specifically :)

56 notes · View notes

animasola86 · 2 years ago

Text

Reinventing my Gryffindor MC: Genevieve Belette

Getting immersed in my first proper longfic for the fandom again, The Darkness Within, I went and changed my Gryffindor MC up a little. Her backstory/my headcanons for her are still somewhat the same, she just looks a little different. (Thank goodness for mods!) (That fic portrays an older version of her, where she's 21/23, and it's NSFW! Just FYI!)

Name: Genevieve Belette

brown eyes * ginger * 1.55m/155cm (5′1“) * Gryffindor

born on April 1, 1875 on the outskirts of London

Aries (who is determined, courageous, charismatic, honest, passionate, energetic, impatient, impulsive)

was born a Weasley: Father was a Weasley, mother a Rosier (making her a pure-blood, despite being born a Squib), and when she didn't receive her Hogwarts letter at age 11, she was sent to live with non-magical relatives (the Belettes) in France, who practically adopted her, where she stayed until she turned 15

has a strained relationship with her parents and even though they somewhat accepted her back into the family after she found her magic, she still holds a little bit of a grudge (and will keep the name of her adoptive parents)

has a scar on her right cheek (was a reckless child who tried everything to awaken her magic, but failed, mother refused to heal her wound properly and left her with that scar, sent her away shortly thereafter)

was taught to be a proper lady in France (had a house teacher) and it took her a while to get used to the fact that girls wore trousers in Hogwarts

is an introvert (grows up to be quite the opposite though)

has a severe fear of heights, hates flying

is very helpful, but reckless in doing so, prefers to be alone, but allows a certain extrovert to accompany her on her adventures

had a crush on Professor Sharp before falling for Sebastian

How she looks:

Face 001, Skin color 022 Hair color: Dark Ginger, Eye color: Medium Brown Eyebrow shape 006, Eyebrow color: Dark Ginger Freckles 3, Complexion Type 3, Scars: Lines on right cheek

Mods I used:

Wednesday Addams Inspired Makeup Variations (no lipstick version) Custom Hair Very Long 41 (no bangs version)

Notes:

Yes, she is basically Ginny Weasley with her twin brothers' birth date, I was very creative when naming and creating her XD (belette is also the French word for weasel, so, there's that) Rosier was/is a pure-blood family originating in France in HP canon, but I HC that those relatives come from the Weasley side. And even though she is related to Garreth and Prof Weasley, it is very distant and they might not know about it due to their vast family tree and her name change (and her mother's influence, the Rosiers were much stricter and Darker and I can imagine her mother had cut the ties to her husband's family because she didn't think as open as the Weasleys did).

More on her life during Hogwarts can be read in my very first, now abandoned HL fanfic Diary of a Snake Lover on FF.net.

Post-Hogwarts (spoilers for The Darkness Within):

dies after having absorbed Isidora's magic because her soul was too pure to handle the darkness, is resurrected by Sebastian and ends up in the future - found by Tom Riddle

is easily influenced by others, lets the darkness within get the better of her and turns her life around completely: becomes manipulative, seductive, knows what she wants, gives her life to Tom's cause and recruits for him with every means possible (basically uses her body and Dark magic)

has forgotten/suppressed everything prior (manipulated by Tom)

is very conflicted once she remembers her former life thanks to Sebastian's intervention

her fate is yet to be determined!

Read more about her and Sebastian's trip to Tom Riddle's timeline right here: The Darkness Within.

The story is hosted on AO3, but here are Chapter excerpts posted on Tumblr (careful, they are NSFW!):

Chapter 6 (fluff) here Chapter 7 (smut) here Chapter 8 (angsty smut) here Chapter 9 (TomxMC smut) here

I also tried recreating my story during an AI RP session with a Tom Riddle bot, can be read here: Magical Fingers (also NSFW, sorry!)

Showcase for my Ravenclaw MC Nebbia DeLuca

Fanfiction Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #mc showcase #gryffindor #Genevieve Belette

7 notes · View notes

anna-the-undertaker · 11 months ago

Text

The Price You Pay

Mammon x MC

MC gets hurt, and Mammon is pissed.

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, insinuated torture, death

Everyone conveniently forgets that Mammon is the second most powerful of the avatars of sin. His nonchalant attitude, rebellious nature, and notorious failures overshadow his true capabilities. For the Avatar of Greed, this reputation had its pros and cons. On one hand, they believed him to be a fool; on the other, they never saw him coming.

One of his abilities was the power to always know the true worth of an object, deed, or debt. He could immediately determine whether artifacts, jewels, or gold were genuine, or if a service or action was worth the debt owed. Anything of value, he would know.

Mammon often did work for Diavolo on behalf of Lucifer, making deals to boost the future Demon Lord's reputation or acting as a debt collector. Despite his sticky fingers, he knew better than to try anything shady during official transactions for the crown. These weren't the same as stealing Lucifer's wallet or Levi's figures. If he did, the punishment would be far worse than being strung up by the Avatar of Pride.

Years after MC arrived in the Devildom and turned his and his brothers' world upside down, long after he and MC had started a romantic relationship, Mammon was tasked with collecting an artifact gifted to the future Demon Lord. It was an act of good faith and support for Diavolo’s ascension by one of the many noble houses.

This noble house, in particular, was known to oppose Diavolo's exchange program. While many shared their views, they had never acted against the Prince, fearing Barbatos and the Sins first born.

Upon being presented with the artifact, however, Mammon knew it was fake. The replica was detailed, but nothing could escape his gaze.

"What the fuck is this, huh? Ya think ya can just hand over this fake, and I wouldn't notice? You'll be hearing from Barbatos," Mammon barked as he stormed out.

Days passed, leaving the situation to the Demon Lord and Lucifer. Handling dissenting nobles required delicate care to avoid rebellion or war.

Mammon, meanwhile, was at one of his modeling gigs. He planned to surprise MC with a road trip in the human realm, having noticed their homesickness. He'd already gotten permission from Diavolo and Lucifer as a reward for his help, and because they couldn't say no when MC was involved.

In his changing room, the familiar he'd given to MC appeared, squawking frantically.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Chill out! What's wrong with ya?" Mammon yelled, confused. Then it dawned on him: this familiar wasn't supposed to leave MC's side unless it was an emergency. His heart raced.

His D.D.D rang, Lucifer’s name glowing on the screen. Mammon answered faster than ever, panic gripping him.

"What's goin' on? Did they rally the other noble houses? Did they attack? Is MC okay?"

Lucifer’s silence was heavy. "Stay calm and listen carefully. I need you to come to the hospital immediately."

Mammon's blood ran cold. Rage took root in his mind. If it were one of his brothers, he knew they could defend themselves. But this was MC.

His D.D.D shattered under his grip, the call severed. He bolted from the room, his speed amplified by his barely contained emotions. He was outside the hospital in an instant, where his brothers waited.

He tried to push past them. "Where is MC!? Take me to them now!"

"Mammon!" Lucifer's hands gripped his shoulders, holding him back. "They are being operated on. The damage is significant, but they will live. You need to calm down."

Mammon’s anger turned toward his brothers. "Why weren't any of you with them? We're supposed to protect them! Why didn't they summon one of us? Why didn't they summon me?"

Lucifer’s eyes tightened with emotion only Mammon could decipher—an expression of powerlessness.

Satan spoke up. "The attacker used a suppression spell, making MC unable to use their magic. It was premeditated. MC is important to us and the Demon Lord, making them the perfect target."

The silence that followed was heavy. Mammon felt more angry with himself than anyone else.

"Who found them?" he whispered.

"If you hadn't gifted MC a familiar, we might not have known what happened or where they were," Lucifer answered. "The familiar guided us to them before coming to you."

Hours passed, and little was said even after the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos arrived. It felt like an eternity before the doctors came to take them back.

Mammon was the first to enter MC's room. They were unconscious, looking worse for wear. Bruises littered their body, and bandages covered their torso, speckled with blood. He could smell it in the air. The beeping of the monitor and the sounds of the respirator created a haunting song ringing in his ears. He gently rested his hand on their cheek, his thumb moving in gentle strokes. He buried his nose in their hair, inhaling their scent, tears pricking his eyes.

"Wait for me, okay?" he whispered, unsure if they could hear him and pressed a searing kiss to their temple.

Then he stood, feeling as if his entire body was on fire. A dark aura overtook him, and no one tried to stop him as he made his way outside.

The Devildom's sky was dotted with stars, the moon casting its gaze like a massive eye, offering no comfort. An infernal incantation slipped from his mouth, summoning a murder of crows as his true form emerged.

"Find the bastard," he ordered. The crows scattered, and he took flight. It didn't take long before they found their target. Mammon crashed through the roof of their hideout, dust billowing around him.

The noble's guards lunged at Mammon, weapons drawn and faces twisted with determination. But with a snap of Mammon’s fingers, they all fell lifeless to the ground, their bodies collapsing like marionettes with severed strings. Mammon then raised his hand, and a dark, malevolent spell engulfed the room, sucking all light away and plunging it into a pitch-black void. The noble found himself trapped within this inescapable darkness, his breaths echoing in the suffocating silence.

Mammon’s voice cut through the void, dripping with disdain. "While you were trying to hide yourself and the artifact from the Demon Lord and his allies after you fucked up during our last meeting, you somehow believed you wouldn’t be found."

The noble’s voice trembled, yet he tried to maintain a facade of confidence. "I am in the business of souls. If we are on peaceful terms with the humans, my livelihood would be at stake. But if this is about the artifact, go on and take it then. There are other ways to get what I want."

Mammon’s eyes blazed with fury, his aura crackling with barely contained rage. "Oh, I'm not here for the artifact. You owe a blood debt and won't be leaving here until I have received every last drop."

The noble's bravado faltered, fear seeping into his voice. "Come now, your Highness, Prince of Greed. Surely you can just take the artifact, yes?"

"Not good enough!" Mammon’s voice boomed, growing deeper, more demonic. "Someone laid their filthy hands on MC... MY HUMAN! No amount of money or artifacts or jewels in the Devildom can pay for that transgression, my lord. No, for that... I want your flesh."

The noble’s face paled, his eyes wide with terror. "Flesh...?"

Mammon's grin was cruel and predatory. "It matters not to me where on your anatomy it is withdrawn from. If you don't have the stomach to take it for yourself, my familiars here..." He gestured, and millions of pairs of golden eyes, now stained red, appeared all around them, their hunger palpable. "...are very adept at tearing flesh from bone, and as you can see, they are quite ravenous at the moment. But! A grim short or a gram shy, and I will savor the fact that you won't leave here alive. Am I clear?"

The noble was silent, frantically searching for an escape, but there was none. The void was absolute.

"Good. I was hoping you'd resist," Mammon barked out a command to the crows in high infernal. They descended upon the noble, their claws and beaks ready to tear their organs from their body. Mammon turned and left, the noble's screams echoing behind him as he stepped into the night, his fury only partially sated by what he had wrought.

Days later, the noble's dilapidated corpse was found strewn through the trees, dangling in little pieces. The scene was macabre, the remains a grim reminder of the wrath that had been unleashed. Crows circled overhead, a harrowing warning.

The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the gruesome display left no doubt about the message: MC was not to be touched. The flapping of countless wings and the haunting cries of the crows drove the point home. This was the fate awaiting anyone who dared harm MC, so long as the Avatar of Greed breathed.

#i wanted to showcase just how brutal the boys could be considering they are... you know... demons.#i just love it when they lose their shit when it comes to MC #its just so attractive for some reason #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub

121 notes · View notes

rene-hl-trashcan · 9 months ago

Text

Me : I created my male MCs perfectly curated to my personal taste in men. ( >ᴗ< )

Also me, finally realising that these two belong on completely opposite sides of the spectrum: Fuck 💀

#Hogwarts Legacy #Hogwarts Legacy MC #Hogwarts Legacy MC Fanart #Hogwarts Legacy OC #Sylvan Fyrevale #Ravenclaw MC #Ekrizdis Mors #Slytherin MC #digital art #Original Character #Hogwarts Legacy Fanart #digital illustration #side-by-side comparisons really showcase their differences #Riz looks so demure and polite #Meanwhile Sylvan has his shirt more open than a harlot's legs on a good business day #plus that shameless manspread 💀

22 notes · View notes

thatharemlifestyle · 3 months ago

Text

PoC showcase: Rafayel GoD of tides.

Rafayel Temple's Sunset

Rafayel's Temple Promise

#love and deepspace #black mc #poc mc #Rafayel temple's sunset #Rafayel temple's promise #Rafayel god of tides showcase #CybillaFräulein poc edits #Rafayel god of tides #god of tides #lads god of tides #god od tides poc edit

9 notes · View notes

666writingcafe · 1 year ago

Text

The Adventure Begins

Levi's overacting. Again. The only reason it wasn't obvious during the school play was because Simeon kept him reined in. Levi gets excited quite easily, and it causes him to get lost in whatever role he's playing.

I'll have to ask Simeon, but I don't think he intended the Lord of Shadow to act so...dramatically? badly? I don't know how to describe it, really. It just isn't very good.

Unlike MC. I'm not sure why I like their acting better, especially since they're currently matching Levi's energy. Maybe it's because they're intentionally hamming it up. They did mumble an apology to me before they started talking to him, after all, so they must know that Levi's acting isn't the best.

Satan's isn't much better, either. He's not as over-the-top as Levi, but I don't find him convincing as the "villain" of this story. If anything, he'd make a good anti-hero, but Solomon probably didn't want to make things too complicated.

Solomon's not a very good author.

However, I'm choosing to keep all this to myself, because the point of all this is to help MC get their first star. Lucifer, on the other hand, is having a hard time suspending his disbelief. So, I understand why MC told him to shut up. I just hope they're prepared to get their ass handed to them once Lucifer's back to normal size, because while he has a soft spot for MC, he doesn't like being silenced. Messes with his pride.

Speaking of which...the stars.

They represent the seven virtues, which are direct opposites of our sins. For me, that virtue is temperance. Solomon probably knows this, but he may not realize the full extent of my relationship with temperance.

Once upon a time, I was able to control myself and my urges. Until I wasn't. For my brothers, their sin was triggered by specific events; that wasn't the case for me. It just...happened. And I didn't realize it until it was too late.

Now, it's what most people know me for. They think I'm a meathead that only thinks about food. Even my brothers.

Which isn't fair.

Why are they allowed to have complex personalities, but not me? Why can they participate in mentally stimulating activities, while I'm cast off to the side and dismissed as too dumb to understand any of it? It's never made sense to me.

I think that's part of why I like MC so much. They're the first person in a really, really long time that sees me beyond my sin. They actually listen to what I have to say and seem to value my opinion, even if it's not related to food or sports.

Yet somehow, deep inside, I don't fully trust them. I think it's coming from my subconscious. Somewhere in there lives a hurt angel that feels like everyone he cares about will die and leave him behind. And in a way, it's true.

Lilith may have been the only person in our little family that actually lost their life, but my brothers barely resemble what they were in the Celestial Realm. It's weird. They wear the same faces, but they're completely different people. Sometimes, I feel like they're complete strangers, or perhaps taken over by aliens.

Oddly, the one person I can rely on to stay the same is Satan. Then again, he didn't have his own form until we arrived in the Devildom, so this version of him is all I've ever known.

"Beel?"

Shit.

I missed a lot, didn't I?

"Are you okay? You seem out of it."

"I could say the same to you." Why is that the first thing that comes out of my mouth? I sound like a jerk.

MC merely sighs as they sit next to me on the...bed? I take a proper look at my surroundings and realize that we're in a hotel room of some kind. Lucifer appears to be sleeping on the nightstand, using tissues as both pillow and blanket.

"Wanna go first, or shall I?" Interesting question. They don't seem upset at me.

"Your call." MC rests their head on my shoulder.

"Simeon needs my help making an important decision." Their tone indicates something serious.

"With what?" MC sighs again.

"His future." Huh? Why would an angel need a human's help with that? I know that the two of them are fairly close, but still.

"But that's neither here nor there," they quickly add, sighing. "It's not like I can do anything about it now." They glance up at me. "What's on your mind?"

"My past."

"As an angel?" I nod.

"Back then, the only thing that mattered to people was that I was strong. I wanted to be useful, so I decided to become a soldier and fight for the Celestial Realm. Problem was, I had trouble controlling my powers."

"Like I did before receiving the Ring?"

"You know, I hadn't really thought about it until you said it, but yeah. I suppose we have that in common. In your case, everyone had your back, which is good, because I wouldn't have wanted you to go through that experience the way I did." MC sits up and properly looks at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I would destroy something--even though most of the time it was a complete accident--Raphael would make some sort of sarcastic remark about it. I think he started calling me the Hulk at one point, but it was meant as an insult." I pause.

"At least he had the decency to do it to my face. Lots of angels would talk shit about me behind my back. They thought I was too stupid to pick up on it, but I knew. They acted overly sweet towards me whenever I would walk in the room. Condescending, even. It was like I was a dumb kid to them." MC places a hand on my thigh and pats it.

"Sounds depressing," they remark.

"It was. Oddly enough, the one person in authority that didn't treat me that way was Lucifer. I initially thought he was too busy with his duties to really care about much else, but then one day he approached me and started talking to me. We had a legitimate conversation."

"About?"

"He told me to keep in mind that being a Celestial Realm soldier wasn't about attacking--"

"--but protecting." We must have woken Lucifer up. "You had the power to protect everyone--to keep them safe--and that you shouldn't feel bad because you were special. If you learned to control your powers, I'd recommend you to the cherubim and have you serve as a Celestial Realm gatekeeper. You did, and so I kept my promise." Lucifer beckons MC to pick him up and bring him closer to me.

"MC and I may be connected by the Ring of Light, but the two of you have a strong connection as well," he continues. "You're both motivated by the need to protect the ones you love, even if it means sacrificing yourself in the process. Drawing on that similarity is going to be the key to pass Solomon's test."

"Are you saying Solomon knew we had that in common?" MC asks incredulously.

"No. I did. I simply passed the knowledge along to him."

"How long--"

"The rooftop."

"Of Dogi Magi?" I'm glad MC understands what he's referring to, because I'm completely lost. Must have been something I wasn't involved with.

"You knew that Belphie would hurt you if you went against his order to reject me, but you did it anyway."

"I didn't want to lie to you."

"Because that would have meant hurting his feelings." Asmo may have used his powers to pick up on Lucifer's crush on MC early on, but I knew pretty much from the moment they set eyes on each other. Granted, he was more attracted to their soul initially, but who could blame him? It was bright and shiny, even back then. If we weren't under orders to not eat them, then they wouldn't have made it out of the assembly hall alive. Even Diavolo was struggling to contain himself.

Anyway, the point is MC cared enough about Lucifer in that moment to feel the need to protect him.

Just like I felt the need to protect Lucifer after I became a cherub.

MC's going to get their star.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #basically what i'm doing with beel is depicting him as someone constantly in his head #and not in the 'i wonder what i'll eat next' kind of way #but instead having him silently observe what's happening around him and mentally commentate on it #sometimes it involves going on little rambles as certain things remind him of other things #but i'm trying to showcase someone who's able to pick up on people's personalities and feeling #simply by watching them interact with the world around them #i think he's emotionally intelligent #that doesn't always transfer to academia #but it is an important type of intelligence #because it helps guide interactions with real people in real situations #also #headcanon that lucifer was the last one to realize/accept that he had a crush on mc #asmo and beel may have picked up on it first #but eventually the others caught on #even the other exchange students #and diavolo #cue relentless teasing from diavolo to lucifer #diavolo: you have feelings for mc #lucifer: no i don't #diavolo: yes you do #and they'd go back and forth about it #diavolo just wanted his friend/occasional lover to be happy #and he thought mc was good for lucifer #so he rooted for them to get together #and was happy when they did

31 notes · View notes