#that's you MC - I am sorry

[devildom-moss]

DiaLuci x MC dynamic

Lucifer: I would burn the world to the ground for you.

Diavolo: And I would build shrines to you atop the ashes.

MC: I wouldn’t ask that from either of you. Besides, I can’t offer you anything that extravagant in return.

Lucifer: My dear, you’re wrong. You underestimate the value of the peace you bring us.

Diavolo: Your affection is a comfort we cannot do without.

[shadowtriovibes]

before the origin of love

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood, Major Hogwarts Legacy Spoilers, Canon Divergence, Ancient Magic Theory

Summary: request [paraphrased]: "You know the part during the game when MC visits Ollivander's alone and Rookwood Apparates her away? Can I request an angsty version of this where Sebastian is with f!MC? Rookwood is angry they killed all his men and casts Imperio on Sebastian to force him to attack her. Even though she’s expecting to die by Sebastian’s hand, he eventually fights the curse off because love is more powerful than dark magic."

a.k.a. y'all thought lily potter was the only one with ancient love magic? think again!!!

“Show your face, Rookwood!” you shout into the darkness. “Come out and fight me!” “My dear, why should I fight you?” Rookwood laughs from high above you, still unseen. “This is child’s play, after all…” You feel like time stops as you see a bright green curse rocket through the air toward Sebastian, who is powerless to do anything to stop it. The curse hits him in the chest with such force that he’s knocked backward, his head tipping forward as he lets out a sickening groan. But instead of watching your friend die while you stood by helplessly, you watch in abject horror as he tilts his head up and locks eyes with you – smoky-green, soulless eyes.

The moment you and Sebastian step outside Ollivander’s shop, you realize that the typically bustling streets of Hogsmeade are disquietingly empty. It’s nearly sundown now, and instead of seeing a friendly mix of witches and wizards doing their holiday shopping or stocking up on supplies for the winter months, you find yourselves all alone.

“Take out your wand,” you murmur to Sebastian. “Something’s not right.”

Wordlessly Sebastian draws his wand and takes a step closer to you, warily glancing up and down the empty streets.

Then in the blink of an eye, a well-dressed figure Apparates into view just across the way – Victor Rookwood, you realize, complete with that infuriating hat of his.

“Rookwood,” Sebastian boldly calls out. “So we meet again. Didn’t you get enough of a telling-off last time?”

You silently aim your wand at him, daring him to take one step closer.

“Well, well… looks like your friend Sirona isn’t here to stick up for you little menaces this time,” Rookwood says with a sneer. “I’m afraid you two are on your own. In fact, I’ve ensured that we have a moment to ourselves.”

Sebastian quickly lifts his wand and aims it squarely at the man’s face. “What do you want, Rookwood?”

“Oh, come, come, no need for such theatrics,” the man drawls, slowly creeping closer to you both. “In light of what Ranrok now knows, you must agree that our interests are aligned.”

Sparks crackle at the tip of your wand as you lift it toward Rookwood.

“Our interests will never be aligned,” you murmur.

Rookwood glances significantly at Sebastian before he challenges you.

“My dear, you would let goblins take what is rightfully ours? The final repository belongs to wizardkind. We would be fools not to work together.”

Beside you, you observe the slightest falter in Sebastian’s aim. You should have known that someone like Rookwood would immediately be able to pinpoint and exploit his biggest weakness – his resentment toward goblinkind, his uncompromising belief that only they carry the blame for his sister’s curse.

You imagine him thinking, Could he be right? Are we fools to allow Ranrok’s goblins to continue ransacking Isadora’s Repositories? Could we instead be using them to cure Anne?

But before Sebastian says a word, Rookwood’s eyes land on the long, thin box in your hands.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” he demands.

Quickly, you slip the box safely inside your robes. You shake your head only slightly, but Rookwood easily detects its significance.

Rookwood continues, “Might this sudden visit to the wandmaker have something to do with our… mutual pursuit?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say softly.

Suddenly, you see Rookwood’s countenance shift as his true motives become clear.

“That repository is my birthright!” he shouts, stepping toward you with a hand outstretched.

Instantly Sebastian steps in front of you and points his wand at Rookwood once more. “I know one thing for certain, and that’s that Charles Rookwood wouldn’t have wanted you anywhere near it!”

Rookwood laughs darkly as he takes a step back.

“The arrogance,” he murmurs, gaze fixed on Sebastian’s determined expression. “I should have known better than to try to reason with a Sallow, after all – you’re no better than your sister, you simpering fool.”

In a frighteningly low voice, Sebastian asks, “What would you know about my sister?”

“Nothing, of course,” Rookwood sneers. “I only meant that I’ve always thought that children should be seen and not heard.”

You inhale sharply, absently lowering your wand as you process Rookwood’s words – the very same that Sebastian had told you were the last words Anne had heard before she was hit with her curse.

Sebastian understands the implication a split second before you do, and you can see bolts of green light shooting down the length of his wand before you even understand what he���s doing.

“Avada–”

Before he can finish his spell, you feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly you’re hurtling through time and space as you’re forcibly Apparated away from Hogsmeade, landing in a crumpled heap in the snowy grass. You’re smack in the middle of a desolate bandit camp somewhere in the Highlands.

Beside you, Sebastian is catching his breath while his hands tremble with rage.

“Where did he go?” Sebastian demands. “Where did the bloody coward go?!”

“Careful, Sallow,” Rookwood’s voice calls out from the darkness. “Wouldn’t want to get yourself into a bind!”

Sebastian suddenly shouts as thick lengths of rope appear out of thin air and wrap themselves around his body, forcing him to his knees.

“Sebastian!” you yell. “Finite!”

Your spell deflects right off the enchanted ropes, and Sebastian grits his teeth.

“I’m okay,” he insists. “It’ll be alright, just – just get him, you can do this.”

Desperate, you find yourself alone while Sebastian struggles against his ropes. You’re keenly aware of the dozen or so fully-grown wizards Apparting into the camp with their wands drawn. You’ll have to take on every single one of them by yourself, you realize, with nothing but your own wand and the ancient magic coursing through your veins to defend yourself.

It feels endless. Simply deflecting their spells takes nearly all of your focus, even if you try to spare some for Sebastian while he struggles uselessly against his bindings. You toss curse after curse at Rookwood’s men and eventually you’re forced to start tossing actual barrels and crates at them as well, until finally you pare down the lot of them to the last executioner with his wand trained squarely at your heart.

“Bomarba!” you holler, and across the field, the burly executioner goes flying into a pile of rubble and melts away into smoke, the last to abandon his mission and surrender.

“Show your face, Rookwood!” you shout into the darkness. “Come out and fight me!”

“My dear, why should I fight you?” Rookwood laughs from high above you, still unseen. “This is child’s play, after all…”

You feel like time stops as you see a bright green curse rocket through the air toward Sebastian, who is powerless to do anything to stop it. The curse hits him in the chest with such force that he’s knocked backward, his head tipping forward as he lets out a sickening groan. But instead of watching your friend die while you stood by helplessly, you watch in abject horror as he tilts his head up and locks eyes with you – smoky-green, soulless eyes.

Imperio.

 “So go on, then,” Rockwood demands. “Play!”

The ropes that had bound Sebastian’s arms to his side quickly fall away, and before you can even react he lifts his wand and rounds on you.

“Confringo!” he shouts, and a blaze of fire soars just past your ear.

“Sebastian,” you call out. “Can you hear me? Don’t do this, please!”

You know it’s fruitless. Sebastian himself had taught you that the Imperius curse cannot be fought off, even by the most powerful wizards who have ever been trained to resist its impenetrable influence. Despite his dueling skills and his broad knowledge of the Dark Arts, you have to assume that Sebastian doesn’t stand a chance against Rookwood’s voice in his ear.

“Levioso!” you counter, hoping to merely hold him off long enough to get to Rookwood and force him to free Sebastian.

But to your chagrin, the Sebastian you’ve known and loved since your first days at Hogwarts is indeed one of the most disciplined and talented duelers you’ve ever fought, and even though he doesn’t want to, he’ll surely give you a run for your money.

“Diffindo!” he growls, and the edge of his curse just barely nicks the side of your calf. You cry out in pain and collapse to the ground as you press a hand to the bleeding wound.

“Want me to release your little friend?” Rookwood calls out. “It’s simple, darling. Join me against Ranrok and I’ll let him live!”

You know deep down that you can’t ally yourself with Rookwood. Despite Sebastian’s initial hesitance, you have to imagine that if he were able to understand your position, he’d do the very same thing that you’re about to do.

It wasn’t the goblins after all, it was him, you can hear him say. We can never join him, not after what he did to Anne. There’s only one way out of this.

Merlin, you think. This is it.

Without your ability to wield ancient magic or the wand made of the Pensieve artifacts, Ranrok may never gain access to the final repository, you convince yourself – especially if he splinters from Rookwood. Sebastian can give the wand to Fig after you’re gone, he can hide it somewhere Ranrok will never find it…

It could all work out, you reckon, if you die.

“Never!” you call out to Rookwood. “I’ll never join you!”

“Then you’ve made your choice,” Rookwood’s voice echoes back. “I’ll let the Sallow boy show you what happens to anyone who says no to me.”

Rockwood’s twisted laughter rings out all around you as Sebastian’s opalescent eyes look you up and down. He lifts his wand and aims it at your heart, and you close your eyes with your own wand at your side.

“Avada Kedavra!”

…

…You’re still breathing.

How are you still breathing?

When you open your eyes, Sebastian is standing before you looking entirely drained, his eyelids drooping as he sways from pure exhaustion. However, just before he collapses you catch a glimpse of his eyes – his usual warm brown ones, the same magnificent eyes you’ll never tire of seeing after all this.

“Sebastian!” you shout, running over to support him as he tumbles to the ground. “Wh-what just happened?”

“Did I get him?” he asks in a whisper. “Rookwood?”

Stunned, you cast Lumos and peer across the empty field until you notice a figure lying in the snow far at the other end – Rockwood, you assume. He isn’t moving, and his legs are bent in a sick, absurd way as if he’d fallen from the watchtower that he now lays below.

“Yes,” you breathe. “You did, b-but… Sebastian, how did you–”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. He’s clinging to your arm as you help him to sit up and rest his head between his knees. “I have no idea, I just… I couldn’t do it.”

“He wanted you to kill me,” you surmise.

“I wouldn’t,” he says hollowly. “It… felt like my head was being split open right down the middle, with one half of me forcing my body to move and aim my wand and the other half knowing that I’d rather die than use that curse on you.”

“Oh, Seb,” you whisper.

You’re both quiet for several long moments while Sebastian takes deep breaths, his face still hidden between his knees. You slowly rub his back through his cloak and wait for him to sit up. He looks haunted when he finally does – even more so than he usually looks.

“I hurt you,” he mumbles. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love,” you say softly, the pet name slipping out so easily that you barely even register at first. “I’m okay, it’s just a cut. Some Wiggenweld will fix me right up when we get back to the castle.”

“Can I?” he asks hesitantly, and you reluctantly let him pull your cloak to the slide so he can see the gash on your calf.

It isn’t deep, and it isn’t even bleeding anymore, but the ripped trouser leg and drying blood stains make Sebastian curse under his breath nonetheless.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers. “Why did I do that?”

“You have no choice,” you remind him desperately. “No witch or wizard has ever fought off the Imperius curse like that before, Sebastian, and you spared me my life. I don’t care about a bloody cut when I should be dead.”

“Never,” he chants mindlessly. “Never, I wouldn’t.”

That’s when a thought occurs to you.

“Sebastian…” you say softly. “It’s possible that there are… other types of ancient magic in addition to mine.”

He frowns. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe there’s something… something primeval, something elemental to our magic that you accessed,” you wonder aloud. “Professor Fig told me that his wife Miriam had spent years studying ancient magic, and it can’t only be that which I have the power to wield. Perhaps you were able to defy Rookwood’s will because you – you connected with a magic that’s more powerful than even an Unforgivable.”

“More powerful than that kind of darkness?” he asks softly. “...That type of magic exists?”

“Of course, it must,” you say simply. “Darkness can’t be more powerful than light, can it?”

He considers your supposition as if it’s the first time the thought has ever occurred to him.

“So… so what, the power of ‘friendship,’ something like that?” he asks, a corner of his mouth quirking up into the first thing resembling a smile that he’s shown since you entered Hogsmeade hours ago.

“Something like that,” you tease him. “Maybe the power of ‘love.’”

You’d meant it entirely in a platonic way, but as soon as the words are out of your mouth, Sebastian goes red and ducks his face.

“That’s – that’s ridiculous,” he mumbles. “I mean, love, that’s… Who said anything about love?”

You’re quiet while you watch Sebastian try and fail to gather his thoughts. He’s flailing, and all of a sudden you realize something clear as day that you can’t quite believe you never recognized before.

“Sebastian,” you murmur. “...Do you suppose you broke through an Imperius curse because you’re in love with me?”

“Wh-what?!” he laughs.

“Because if you did, that would be probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, in all the books I’ve ever read,” you continue. “And if that were the case, I would have to tell you that I’m madly in love with you, too.”

Sebastian is stunned into silence.

“You love me?” he eventually whispers.

“I do,” you tell him. “And… and I never really thought about it before, because it doesn’t really feel all that different from being friends with you, except – except I would have let you kill me rather than kill you, even though I know what’s at stake.”

“I still think you should’ve,” Sebastian jokes quietly. “You’re much more important than I am.”

“Regardless, we couldn’t have let Rookwood find out about the last Repository, and I would have taken the Killing Curse to stop him,” you sigh. “I trusted you would have taken the Pensieve wand back to Fig.”

“I would’ve turned my wand on myself first,” Sebastian says plainly. “Without a second thought.”

Merlin, you can’t believe he actually says things like that.

Rather than continuing to dwell on what could have been, you offer him a hand up and support him by the elbow while he shakily makes his way to his feet. He still looks pale and rattled, but he’s able to start to walk toward the exit of the crumbling ruins – still clinging to your hand.

“Come on,” you murmur. “When we get back to the castle you can rest.”

“What about the Repository?” he asks weakly.

“Let me and Fig worry about that,” you murmur. “You’ve already done more than enough for me today, love. You need to recover.”

“M’not even hurt,” he protests, but he sounds utterly depleted.

“Hush,” you whisper. “Just keep holding onto me, alright?”

It’s not easy getting Sebastian back to the castle; he keeps pitching to the side on the back of your broom as he fights to stay conscious, but you manage to keep him from falling off. Despite his protests, you take him straight to Nurse Blainey so he can get some proper rest (and so someone will be forced to keep an eye on him for you).

“Be safe,” he murmurs while you squeeze his hand in his infirmary bed. “Please.”

“I promise, Seb,” you tell him, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just be here waiting for me when I get back.”

“You’ve made sure of that,” he grumbles, but he offers you an encouraging smile before you leave for the Map Room one final time.

[katiky-png]

breaks into ur inbox to throw stuf at u >:3

uno reverse

happy taurian tuesday yallsies i hope your holidays are lookin fine so far

[wosemi-sama]

hellooo ^^ i saw ur requests were open...

could you write a little silly thing with the obey me brothers and a child!mc who swears up and down that they'll marry him? typical funny "child doesnt understand the full meaning of marriage they just think its the ultimate form of love" trope.

ermmm sure ‼️‼️‼️ i gotchu anon. i think child mc is very silly™️

lucifer

Lucifer worked on his paperwork at his desk, as you talked his ear off with all about your day, sitting on one of the chairs of his secret study. As usual, he paid no mind to you minus the usual nod or hum, his attempt at making you feel acknowledged.

That was, until, you somehow brought up the subject of your future wedding. He looked up at you, his attention no longer directed at his papers.

"Excuse me..?" Lucifer's eyes widened as they always do when he's surprised. He was in complete shock.

"Yeah! Our wedding. So we can spend the whole day together!" You seemed to be delighted, already planning your father-child day in your head.

"Dear, if you wanted to spend the day together, you could just ask." He stopped writing and put his pen down.

"Really? But you're always so busy!" You frowned, Lucifer frowned with you at your response.

"Do I really seem busy?" You nodded, confused as you thought he already knew how little he's spent time with you lately.

Lucifer sighed. "I'll see if I can clear my schedule and I'll spend all tomorrow with you. How does that sound?"

You hummed in agreement, already ecstatic for tomorrow.

mammon

To celebrate his recent win at the casino yesterday night (unbeknownst to you), he took you to eat at the fanciest restaurant in the Devildom he knew.

He told you to get dressed in your fanciest clothes and to meet him at HoL's front entrance, covering your eyes as the two of you drew nearer to the restaurant.

Later, you were both sat down at a table near the entrance, eating your meals.

"This is so good! I can't wait until our wedding!" You exclaimed with a mouth full of food.

Mammon's grip on his fork loosened. He dropped it on his plate. "Our huh. Our wha...? Repeat that?" Mammon was stunned.

"Our wedding!"

"Do... do ya know what a wedding is?" Mammon asked you, serious for once.

"Well... no, but-!" Mammon interrupted you. "Aha! Knew it! Don't go sayin' things like that, ya hear?"

You sighed. "Okay...."

leviathan

Huh.

Huh?

HUH?!

"W-what did you just say?!" He put down his controller and turned to you, forgetting all about the Devil Kart game he was playing with you.

"Yeah, when we get married-"

Levi cut you off. "Nooope! Not happening."

"What? Why not!!" You seemed genuinely curious, so he answered. "People get married when they love each other."

"Huh. But I love you!" You seemed very confident with your response.

Levi was stumped, unsure of how to explain it differently.

"Y-you know what, nevermind." He decided that you'd understand what marriage is and how it works when you're older. Probably. Hopefully.

satan

You sat there patiently, listening to the bedtime story Satan was reading to you. It was a story from the human world, one you've heard a dozen times, yet you don't get tired of stories as long as Satan's reading them to you.

Everything was going normally until Satan got to the end of the book, the part where the prince marries the princess. "Satan, I'm gonna marry you one day!" You sat up from your comfy spot on your bed.

"I'm sorry, you're going to what?" Satan was speechless, unsure of what to do or say. Does he keep reading? Does he explain to you what you just said?

"Well, it says the princess and the prince love each other." You pointed to the page picturing the princess and prince's wedding. Satan nodded and you continued. "When you get married, it's because you love each other, right?"

"Well, not familiarly. You get married to someone you're romantically attached to." Satan explained.

"Oh. Okay!" You had no idea what either of those words meant, but you laid back down anyway, ready for Satan to continue reading.

Satan looked at the clock on your nightstand. "It's getting past your bedtime, little one." He began to close the book. You put your hand on the page that was open to stop him. "Please, just five more minutes! The story's almost over, anyway!"

Satan sighed. "Alright, five more minutes."

asmodeus

"Hmm? Our wedding?" Asmodeus was confused, to say the least.

Asmo brushed your hair, fixing it up in time before breakfast. You sat on the edge of his bed as he talked to you about all the new hair products he got you yesterday while shopping. Well, until you began talking about your future wedding together.

You nodded, he stopped brushing your hair, the brush still in his hands as he held it in the air. "Yeah, our wedding!"

"Why would we have a wedding, hon?" Asmodeus questioned you. He watched as you sputtered, trying to come up with an answer. He just giggled at you and smiled. "That's just not possible, dear." He continued to brush your hair.

"Huh? Why not?!" You seemed hell bent on marrying him, for familiar reasons of course, but nobody knew how to explain that to you.

"Hmm, I'm not sure how to explain it..." Asmodeus looked for an answer, hoping it would suddenly pop up in his brain.

Unfortunately, that light bulb in his head didn't light up, so Asmo stayed quiet and continued to brush your hair.

beelzebub

Even though it was a Saturday, everyone (mostly Lucifer) was still on about how you had woken up late. Everyone except Beelzebub, of course. He had even saved you a plate at breakfast! How kind and caring!

As you sat down at the dining table, he handed you the plate of food. You thanked him. It wasn't often the glutton would save someone food, unless it was you.

"Thanks, dad! I'm gonna marry you!" You hugged him tight, exciting for him to save you food every morning once you got married.

Beelzebub was... confused, to say the least. He continued to munch on his food, not sure how to act next.

He swallowed before speaking. "That's not how that works..." He looked around the room, looking for an answer. "Maybe you'll get married one day, just not to me." He finally decided on his answer, looking at you now.

"Okayyy..." You didn't understand, but who were you to ever argue with him?

belphegor

Belphie crouched and peaked his head under the blanket roof of the pillow fort you carefully constructed with him. "I got you something." He was hiding something behind his back. He took it out from behind, and there was a soft cow plushie in his hands. He smiled upon seeing your excitement towards it.

He gently put the cow plushie in your hands. You held it tight as you lay against the pillows, on top of the blanket flooring."Thank you, Belphie!" He hummed. "Heck, I might even marry you!"

The Avatar of Sloth raised an eyebrow.

"What...?" He questioned you quietly. You nodded. He knew it was just a saying, but he was slightly concerned. Asmodeus said that a lot. Was he finally rubbing of on you?

He finally went inside the pillow fort and got cozy. He took a pink blanket and covered you with it. It was silent for a bit.

"Where'd you learn that from?" He finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Asmo!" You exclaimed, holding the cow plushie even tighter.

"Ah." He knew it. He took the yellow blanket next to him and covered his legs, as he didn't feel like tucking in his upper half. The blanket had white stars scattered on the fabric.

He felt his eyes fluttering. He was about to fall asleep, but he still had something he wanted to say to you.

The pillow fort was quiet. You grabbed the book that was in between you and Belphie to begin reading where you left off. Before you could, Belphegor broke the silence once again.

"Hey..." He began. You looked up at him from your book. "Don't go around saying stuff like that, okay?" You flashed him a smile and gave him a thumbs up. That was the last thing he saw before falling asleep.

[crescentfool]

at the top of tartarus 🌕

[adastra121]

Ais: I'm cold. Leander: I'm colder. Ais: It's not a competition. Leander, violently shivering: D-Damn right it's not, I’m d-d-destroying you. Ais: ... Ais: *throws off jacket* Bring it on, pretty boy. MC: Are you two seriously—For gods’ sake. *wraps them both in their jacket in one warm “get along” coat*

[ann-reese]

She's all grown up 🫶

[yourqueenb]

I’m salty about this for multiple reasons.

1. Because I don’t think everybody should be screaming at Mal. They were getting overrun by the Ancients. Maybe his plan wasn’t exactly well thought out, but it worked and everyone is fine.

2. Mal apologizes to Nia immediately, yet MC still hasn’t gotten one for his comments to her? Maybe it’s just me that feels this way, but I think that’s honestly what I need to start fully enjoying his route again. We’ve had some nice moments with him, but they all ultimately still feel hollow to me because there’s been no acknowledgement of whatever underlying resentment he obviously feels towards MC and none of how her suffering being diminished and ignored made her feel either

[ellivenollivander]

Five Times

Garreth Weasley x MC Drabble

A/N: I found this lying in my docs folder like, last week, and had written it weeks ago. I decided to post it this week because I have not had anything proper for Weasley Wednesday in a long time. Inspired by this prompt list. If you saw me post this the first time around… no you didn’t.

Garreth Weasley had almost confessed his desperate and longing desire and love for MC exactly five times.

The first time, had been when the two of them were standing outside the Great Hall. Staring at the notice board, with matching cheesy grins. Professor Black had finally caved to the school board and the hordes of angry parents and officially reinstated Quidditch at Hogwarts. The sounds of excitable chatter around them, like electricity in the air. They had wrapped their pinky fingers together, promising to try out together. The oddly intimate moment nearly had Garreth promising other things, like his devoted love for them.

It was the tryouts themselves that brought about the second time. Their secret mischievous glances when the Gryffindor captain was acting especially over the top in their animated speech about the honor of playing for their house. They had both been trying out for chaser, thrill seekers that they were, Garreth had wanted to scream his love for them each time they had sent the quaffle sailing straight past the Keeper and through the standing hoops. And once they had landed, broomsticks falling to the ground to catch the uniforms tossed their way, he had to resist the urge to crush his lips against their own.

Sitting in the empty potions classroom on a Sunday afternoon, bathed in sunlight and filled with shared giggles had been the third time. Ever the loyal friend, MC happily tipped back the vial of Garreth’s latest brew, despite Garreths refusal to tell them anything about the brews intended use. Their trust and the bright pink liquid emptying into their mouth had Garreth wanting to kiss the remnants from their lips. They had hummed happily, noting it tasted of candy floss, earning its brewer a wide grin of success.

Seconds later when the unintended side effect of uncontrollable hiccups presented itself, Garreth found himself fighting off the fourth time, when MC erupted into peals of giggles around the spasming of their diaphragm. Gratitude and love filling him whenever MC met him and his experimental brews with understanding and humor, never bitterness or anger.

The fifth time was when he realized MC felt like home. Safe and warm, as they sat together in the late night of the Gryffindor Common Room. Surrounded by books and parchment, hands stained with ink, they had been at their History of Magic essays for hours. MC had succumbed to their exhaustion first, their head heavy with sleep and the History of Wandlore where it lay against his shoulder. Eventually, in their unconscious state, they slid their head into his lap, Garreth moving his textbook just in time. His heart had swelled, and he could not resist the urge to caress his fingers through their hair or the whispered I love you falling from his lips. If he had not tilted his own heavy head against the back of the couch, he may have noticed the small smile and the silent I love you too, gracing MC’s face.

[asmotheavatarofhorny]

I’m obsessed with the idea that MC is the brothers’ master… I feel like they don’t explore this NEARLY enough in the game either. So yk how they act in the butler event?? Like imagine that but 24/7– and if you’ve watched Black Butler, just imagine a Sebastian & Ciel dynamic but with the brothers x MC… Just— jgbehiaogjbwldpfn— and extra points if MC is an angry little piece of shit that acts like a child and is like 2/3rds of the brothers heights- like omfg 😩

Imagine being a random lesser demon and just seeing Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride and the oldest of the demon brothers, the right hand man of the future demon king, and the biggest prick in all the three realms, casually walking up to a tiny ass human who is BARELY tall enough to reach his tits, and watching him bow to it like it’s some kind of royalty and call it master… like this little bitch is an afternoon snack to you and Lucifer just called it “master” holy shit—

and imagine he picks them up and carries them around like they’re some pampered little cat omfg

[timeofjuly]

i keep thinking of the scenario if electrician were to run into ppl of her past like izzy from new years… i like imagine her going “ bunny it’s been so long you look better then ever “ and electrician is like 😀 do i know you..? due to their gaps in memory (i’m also interested how much their memory will affect them as the story progresses, i myself suffer from the issue and being young it’s kinda scary sometimes 😞)

This ask made me write something! This is set pre-RTC in the earlier days of MC’s sobriety. They’ve just moved to New Ebott here. 

Read it on AO3 or read it below!

Licence

You’re leaving the DMV, of all the fucking places, when it happens. 

Most people hate the DMV but you had practically skipped into the place for your eleven am appointment, overcome with joy at the thought of getting your driver’s licence back. The public transportation in New Ebott is great and your ass looks amazing after all the cycling you’ve been doing when the weather is nice, but there’s something about the independence of a car that you’ve missed. With your licence back, your employment prospects won’t be limited to the boundaries of public transport and your stamina when pedalling. 

With your licence back, you’ll be able to go to school. 

That’s the thing you’re most excited about. School. College. University. Whatever. You just want to learn something, to use the brain that you’ve let go to shit. You don’t even care what - at this point, with your dismal record and embarrassing results from high school, you’ll take what you can get. 

You’ve wasted enough of your life and you don’t want to squander a second more. 

After tucking your brand new licence safely in your back pocket, you leave the DMV, still smiling, and make your way to the bus stop. You’ll miss catching it; all the drivers are lovely and it’s nice to be driven around the city, like your own personal tour. 

You’ve got time to kill until the bus arrives, so you open your phone and start scrolling through hundreds of second hand car listings. 

You’re not picky; you have a tight budget and will probably hit your fair share of curbs in it anyway, but it’s nice to look at the fancier ones and dream. A convertible sounds nice; there’s a bright red one for sale, way outside of your budget. You imagine the wind in your hair, the sheer cool factor of rolling down the street with the top down. Oh, or maybe a motorbike; you had loved your stupid, ugly little scooter, and a motorbike would be even better. And you’d get to wear all the sexy leather gear. Double win. 

“Oh my stars, do my eyes deceive me?”

The cold hand of panic twists through your ribcage and wraps around your heart, fingers taking hold and squeezing. 

You know that voice. 

You turn around.

On the sidewalk are two people staring at you with equally ecstatic expressions and you only recognise one of them. 

Izzy looks… well, she looks good, you suppose, clothes fashionable and scales polished to a sheen, though you can see a few of them are missing. The spines on her head are droopy, a little paler in colour than what you remember, and there’s a beadiness to her eyes that you never noticed before. 

You haven’t seen her in months but from how unfamiliar she looks, it feels more like years. 

“Damn, you’re looking good!” says the man you don’t recognise. 

And you know that you knew this person once, can hear the echo of his voice through the fog of your memory, even recognise his hands for the way they’d felt on your skin, but there’s something missing, something your stupid, ruined, useless brain is unable to grasp.

“Hey,” you say, affecting your brightest party-girl smile. “Long time no see.”

“Fucking hell, no shit!” the man laughs. He’s handsome, tall and very blond. “How’ve you been? You look so different.”

With each month you add to your sobriety, you’re told that with increasing frequency. You don’t really see it yourself - you feel like the exact same person most of the time. Worse, even. You’re horrible to be around when you’re in pain. 

“Good, really good,” you say. “How have –”

“Dude, I thought you were dead!” Izzy crows, looking delighted. “You just disappeared, like that.” She snaps her fingers, a jarring scrape of scale-on-claw. 

“Yeah, we all thought that Jesse threw the bunny out with the bath water,” the man says. His tone is light, like it’s a fucking joke or something. 

This person is a stranger to you. You couldn’t even guess his name if you tried. And yet he knows about that —

You tense. Pull a smile to your face. Do your best to shake off the phantom feeling of ice crystallising on the tip of your nose. “Nah, I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

And he laughs and so does Izzy and you laugh too, even though it feels like glass in your throat, because what else can you do?

“Well, I’m glad,” says Izzy and then she sweeps you up into a hug. She smells like old perfume clinging to unwashed clothes and you can feel a faint tremble in her hands as they grip your back. 

You hug back, even though you suddenly feel strange and unwieldy, like your arms aren’t your own. 

I want to go home, you think. Another thing you’d be able to do if you just had a fucking car and hadn’t lost your fucking licence in the first place. 

Izzy pulls back but then the man swoops in to take her place. You’re pressed to the line of his body, and though you’ve probably seen it naked, touched it all over, the feel of it is foreign to you. 

You let go first. 

“What’re you doing in New Ebott, anyway?” Izzy asks. 

“Just passing through,” you lie, because fuck if you’re letting her know that you live here now. “What about you guys?”

“Same thing,” Izzy says. “We’re crashing with Palyso at the moment, remember him?”

Nope. 

“Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Yeah, good guy, really funny. Hey, he’s actually having a party tonight, you should come! Just like old times.” The stranger waggles his eyebrows at you. 

You don’t need to remember the specifics to work out what he means. 

“Yeah, come with us,” Izzy begs. “Everyone’ll be so happy to see you. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

The itch you’re not allowed to scratch burns. It’d be so easy, so fucking easy, to say yes. What’s one night? You don’t even need to use; who says you can’t have fun sober?

The word yes sits in your mouth like a hot coal and then the memory of water, cracking with thin shards of ice, washes over it. 

The desire is gutted out. Not even smoke remains. 

“I’ll sit this one out,” you say. 

“Aw, c’mon, bunny! You’ve gotta—“

The sound of an engine rumbles behind you and your soul sings with relief. 

Thank you, timely public transportation of New Ebott. 

“This is me,” you say, hoping you sound apologetic. “It was nice seeing you guys!”

You don’t wait for a reply, practically flinging yourself onto the bus. The driver gives you a concerned look - you’re a regular and most of them know you by name  - but you just give her a reassuring grin, because you’re fine. You’re fine. You’re completely, one hundred per cent fine. 

You take a seat near the front and stare down at your hands. You think of the way Izzy's shook. The way yours had once. The way they don’t anymore. You hadn’t noticed that until now. 

God fucking damnit. 

Stupid, unwarranted tears prickle hot at your eyes and worse, there’s something sharp poking you in the butt. 

Fearing that you’ve sat in something that’ll rip a hole in your pants - wouldn’t that be your fucking luck - you lift your hips and grope blindly at your ass. 

Oh, right. 

You forgot that you wedged it in your pocket after leaving the DMV. 

You look down at your brand new licence, turning the shiny plastic card around in your hands. Your own face stares back up at you. 

You dig around in your purse and from the very bottom, unearth the remains of your old licence, kept purely for sentimental reasons. It’s cut clean down the middle, made unusable the moment you’d lost it, but the image of your face is still intact. 

You compare the two, side-by-side. In the new one, your face is fuller and your skin smoother. Your lips have colour to them and your eyes are bright and awake, the whites white rather than bloodshot yellow. 

In the new one, you’re smiling. 

Huh. You see it, now. 

You do look different after all.

[knightlas]

BREAKING NEWSSFUCK IT WE GLIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[risingsunresistance]

sunset ☀️

[gncrezan]

I love your unhealthy clingy famous MC you don't understand how feral I'm over him

THANK YOU I LOVE HIM SO DEARLY TOO!!!!! the backstory with absent parents and just. everything about seven... i think makes a lot of infamous ocs potentially lean into this?? or at least there are a ton of choices that just made me go "oh yeah. that's him" . idk there is an element to how infamous is written that really helps with characterising him, including how customisable it is, and i do love that about this IF!!!!! crying about him below the cut <3

aki kind of navigates the world worried his loved ones will leave him and is a little too clingy because of it. he also has been playing those worries off by being charming, flirty and funny. like he can somehow project this hyper-extrovered version of himself and try to make people love that !!! he drops that more around his bandmates/friends, but not in front of people he's just met (please guess who accidentally escalated the bed fight on the tour bus)

aki also hooks up with people a lot, just cause he likes sex but also because he enjoys the no-strings-attached. because of those attachment issues, when he gets something that feels black and white to him, something one-and-done and he leaves in the morning, he can just. take feelings out the equation. he knows its not meant to last so he can just walk out (leave! hit da bricks!!! walk out!!!!!)

committing to a romantic relationship . you can imagine. is a little complicated due to all this LMFAO he just overthinks and worries before even getting into it, regardless of if it's reciprocated or not. between the one time he's actually into someone (seven) and how that ended (...badly) + the fact that deliriously avoiding commiting to anything except hookups = very little (none at all) actual dating experience. aki has no idea to deal with it and will balk. yeah this is immature of him but i have plans to make this guy character develop so hard throughout the course of infamous that he may implode

i love the genre of character where they're just going "i know i have a few issues, who doesn't, but honestly i think i'm well adjusted!!" <- they are not well adjusted. in fact they're worse than they think

also no one asked for the orionmance essay i sent my friend but here it is <3

[jorvikpov]

It is a beautiful day. The sun is soon to return; the pale, cloudless sky is brighter than yesterday, just as it was brighter yesterday than the day before. The trees stand almost unmoving, for the wind is strangely absent even in this seaside town, and the moon rests low but bright on the northwestern horizon. The chill of midwinter nips at your cheeks, reaching even into the furthest, warmest corner of the stables.

It is a beautiful day, and yet you are not quite present.

You have tried for some time to reconnect with reality. There’s little to do other than bide your time, and during your seemingly neverending wait, you have attempted to find your footing again. You cannot. The more you try, the more you are drawn towards the great abyss on the other side of the dam. The more you are drawn to it, the more you think that the dam might have to break—that maybe it is inevitable. The more you think of it as inevitable, the more you find that you don’t mind the idea much. It calls to you. It would be so easy to give in. Today, you feel it pulling you towards it more than ever before, and you know that it is your final calling. Every string tugging on your heart leads there. You still do not know what the abyss holds. It scares you. Still, you must find out.

You weave your hands into your horse’s mane. It’s warm, and it feels like home. If only for a moment, the world feels a little lighter on your shoulders. The walls of the dam surround you, so close now that you needn’t even reach out a hand to feel the cold, hard stone pressing against you, and it is easy to lean towards the abyss. It is easy to lean a little bit further, and then another little bit, and another, until you feel like you can almost see beyond the dam. Nothing happens. The stone presses against every inch of your skin. You breathe a sigh of relief and lean further forward.

Deep in your soul, something cracks.

Hold on, my friend.

Everything is quiet. Neither dark nor light. Neither warm nor cold. Neither real nor unreal. You wonder if this truly was the end of you. If this is what ceasing to be feels like. Perfectly still and peaceful. An eternity in nothingness. Yes—that is it: you have become nothing. You are nothing, and you exist nowhere.

And then, you burst open.

Everything is you. You are the mountains and the valleys. The shining, singing ice of the frozen rivers and the water still flowing deep below. Every horse whose hooves ever thundered over Jorvik’s soft, green grass. Every star in the sky, the sun and moon, and the storm on the horizon. Every root deep in the dirt and rock of the island. You know why you never stopped longing. You know why the ache in your heart never ceased, even when it wasn’t clear what was calling to you. You know at long last why you came to Jorvik. It is you coursing through the roots and it is your magic surging through the island, for it was you who created it long, long ago, back when you and your horse were truly one and the same. You gave yourself up, then, and it gave Jorvik life. You are still giving it life with every breath you take, and now, it breathes life into you in return.

You open your eyes and peer into the abyss. It is full of you—or, rather, it is you. Deep within, there is a vision. Its very essence sets it apart from the world, and suddenly, the idea of your visions disconnecting you from reality feels strange. Foreign, almost. You hardly understand how it could ever happen when the difference between them is this plain, and yet you understand more than ever that they are both real: the distinction between them isn’t that of truth and falsehood, but that between the present moment and a memory. You reach out to the vision, wind it around your fingers until the string tightens, and tug it closer.

(Rain pelts your skin. Something dark is growing; it isn’t too close, nor is it all too far away. Off the coast, evil hangs heavy over the ocean. Your opponents grow stronger and stronger by the day, only waiting for the right moment to strike. They won’t wait for much longer. It is almost time.)

The vision passes, and everything is real. Your small, fragile, human body lies collapsed over your horse’s warm shape, and your breathing is deeper and slower than you ever thought possible. Your fingers are still woven into your horse’s mane. It is still warm. Still feels like coming home. The hay beneath you is warm and dry against your legs, and a few straws prick through the fabric of your trousers, poking and stinging your skin. Someone gallops by outside the stables, snow flurrying around the horse’s thundering hooves. The snow glitters with the pale, blue-purplish colour of the sky for a moment, and when it falls and settles, it joins the rest of the island’s snow in glowing, almost shining, in the gentle light. Stillness lies all over the island, but it feels closer to restlessness than to peace; almost like Jorvik is holding its breath.

You turn your head, feeling something damp where your cheek lay just a moment ago; when you raise a hand to your face, you catch a falling tear on your knuckle. Your horse lifts its head slowly, and in the kind, dark eye facing you, you see the same recognition that you know your horse sees in both of yours.

Though you are nowhere near any primeval root or tree that you know of, the blood running through your veins is buzzing with their warmth. In this moment, you feel untouchable. The midwinter chill nips at your damp cheeks, and yet you do not freeze. Danger and darkness loom closer overhead than ever before, and yet you are not afraid, for you know what is to come.

Jorvik called to you for a reason. Now, you must only listen and follow, and finish what you once started.