#whatever was in the room at that moment cannot be explained by any human means i'm sorry. there were conversations going on

[theinfinitedivides]

when Do Young told Dong Soo 'let's grab a drink' after his law firm opened and they cleaned up the competition and had the corporate dinner...... the way Dong Soo's entire face changed. the way Do Young got in the backseat of the car and left the door open and Oh Jae came towards him like he always does and Dong Soo looked at him the same way he looked at Do Young. the way they drove straight to Do Young's house for that nightcap i'm clawing up the walls

[r3ynah]

Substitute

Danny as Phantom, bored out of his mind tried his best to keep his eyes open, this JL meeting, the meeting was about a cause of mind control or something, in short this was just boring,

he was here as a substitute for Constantine because that man ditched the last second, and left Phantom for himself.

His so gonna push the man off the ledge when he sees him.

Danny continued to dissociate, until he heard a familiar name, coming out of the dark knight's mouth.

"Ember? the popstar? batman do you really think she's the one doing this mind control thing?" Flash asked, he was also almost falling asleep until the popstar's name was said. "Man, Ember's songs are such a vibe, hope she's not some supervillain"

"It is not confirmed, All we know is that she might only be a meta civilian that really just wants to show the world her songs" Wonder woman reasoned, from the far end of the table.

"Until further notice, we shall gather some crimes she unknowingly did, and have her quarantined for the mean time." Batman stated at the other side of the table.

wait what? Quarantine Ember? His rogue and friend, no that wouldn't do.

"I need to disagree with you there Mr. Batman" Phantom called out gaining all the members attention

"And why is that, Phantom?" Superman asked for Batman, who only stared at the ghost with curiosity.

"Well, you did specifically said that members cannot, mess with other members rogues" Phantom exclaimed "If you mess with Ember you're practically breaking your own rules,"

"The Ember, is your rogue?" Flash said astonished. "Wait that means she's also a ghost like you, But why are you just letting her go around the world parading?"

"Yes she's a ghost like me, i let her parade the world because she's on a vacation I mean this whole world tour speaks for itself, putting her in quarantine will do no good for her or anyone, and the whole mind controlling thing is so last season for Ember, she just sucks the energy out of people who hear her songs so she herself can have energy." Phantom explained, floating down to sit on his designated chair. "Besides I keep track of her, to make sure she doesn't create havoc and overdue her powers, she hasn't mind controlled anyone that's for sure."

Phantom eyed batman who still remained, quiet, he looked like he was thinking of something deeply, whatever it was Danny didn't care as long as Ember and the other ghosts are safe.

"And how would you guarantee that Ember won't harm any human citizens?" Batman questioned.

"Oh that's easy, because I already told them what will happen, if they either try to hurt humans" Danny let out a smile that showed all his sharp fangs, his eyes glowed a toxic green, that made everyone in the room uncomfortable, his hair floated more aggressively and uncontrollably. "I think they got the message."

Everyone felt scared at that moment, just who the hell did Constantine, bring in here?

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Every Corner Of This House Is Haunted {Gojo Satoru}

A/n: It doesn't contain spoilers for the recent manga chapters

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Trigger warnings: mentions of death

Every normal couple goes through tough times. Some worse than others.

The only problem with you and Gojo was that you were far from a normal couple. A jujutsu sorcerer and a commoner. The strongest and... well a normal person.

For the first few months of your relationship Gojo wouldn't tell you anything. All you knew was that he was getting paid a lot of money. Later on, he started to tell you a few cryptic things but nothing serious enough to worry you. It didn't take you long, however, to put two and two together and that was when the 'fights' began.

They were never anything serious, just petty things that could be resolve withing a day if not a few hours -Gojo is a clingy man afterall.

Until today.

No matter how many times the two of you had argued, not once had you slept separetely. You didn't live together but whether the arguement was through the phone or in person, Gojo always made sure that you would sleep in the same bed.

But now you were in his bed, in his apartment and Gojo was in the living room.

Not once had you seen him this angry and it made you even angrier. So now you were left there, laying in bed, hugging one of the extra pillows he had which was now soaked in tears.

On the other hand, Gojo was half sitting half laying on the white couch, looking at the ceiling. He could understand that whatever happened was his fault but the rest... He knew that you would never understand the life of a sorcerer, let alone his life so he always tried to keep things lighthearted, he would bring you souvenirs from his trips and all kinds of things. He really was the perfect boyfriend when it involved taking care of someone else.

When it came to take care of himself...

The strongest was lacking.

That was also how the arguement started.

There were some days when you had deemed it important for Gojo to talk to you about whatever bothered him. And today he made the mistake of telling you about some... plans he had in case things in the future were to take a turn for the worse.

"You cannot be serious!"

"I am."

When it came to his job Gojo could get worse than Nanami.

"Satoru, if you die, I expect your body back, and whatever mind or soul or whatever in there too."

"You will get a body but," He let out a sigh and took a step back. "Forget I ever said that, I'll go take a shower."

"Oh yes right! Avoid explaining why you are willing to let them use your body if it means winning."

"I didn't mean to say it. It doesn't matter okay? Forget I ever said anything."

"Suguru and I were and are the only ones treating you as a human and you are about to shut me out once again because you're used to being seen as nothing more than a weapon. But hey, forget I ever said anything, Satoru."

That phrase was what led you in the situation you were in right now.

This was the only time you weren't sure if you actually had the guts to apologise to him. You meant what you had said and you weren't going to take it back because he had to hear this from someone. But you knew the moment you would come face to face with him again, you would burst out crying.

You couldn't take the look in his eyes out of your mind. He looked hurt, he looked confused, he looked angry... all in one. And it was heartbreaking because him being sad and angry was normal but confused?

"I am... sorry." His voice was what you heard first and then the door opened slowly and he walked in. The whole room smelled like his cologne and... "Come on, talk to me," you felt the matress shift beside you and without putting any thought to it, you moved to the side so he could lay there as well.

"I am sorry," you whispered.

"Nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart."

You could swear it was muscle memory at this point because you turning around to face him and Gojo wrapping his arms around you were in perfect sync.

"I love you, I just-"

"Shh," his big hand found the top of your neck while the other rubbed circles on your back. "I love you too. In fact."

"Oh no," you giggled. Gojo hated keeping the conversations between the two of you serious.

"I love you so much that I will buy us some galvanized square steel, eco-friendly wood veneers and I'll borrow screws from that weird aunt I have and we'll expand this house."

"You don't speak to any of your relatives Satoru."

[gatheringbones]

[“But we do think white people in America tend to suffer an anxiety (and many have written of this): they know that they are white but they must not know what they know. They know that they are white, but they cannot know that such a thing has social meaning; they know that they are white, but they must not know that their whiteness accrues power. They must not call it whiteness for to do so would be to acknowledge its force. They must instead feel themselves to be individuals upon whom nothing has acted. That’s the injury, that their whiteness has veiled from them their own power to wound, has cut down their sympathy to a smaller size, has persuaded them that their imagination is uninflected, uninfiltrated. It has made them unknowing. Which is one reason why white people take recourse to innocence: I did not mean to do any harm. Or: I wanted to imagine you—isn’t that good of me, haven’t others said that was good for me to try? Or: If I cared about politics, I would write a manifesto—what I’m trying to do is make art. Or: I have a right to imagine whatever I want, and it traduces or dirties art to limit the imagination. Or: I don’t see color. Or: we’re all human beings.

Part of the mistake the white writer makes is that she confounds the invitation to witness her inevitable racial subjectivity with a stigmatizing charge of racism that must be rebutted at all costs. The white writer, in the moment of crisis, typically cannot tell the difference. What a white person could know instead is this: her whiteness limits her imagination—not her reader’s after the fact. A deep awareness of this knowledge could indeed expand the limits—not transcend them, but expand them, make more room for the imagination. A good thing.

For one source of creativity lies in the fact that each individual is essentially strange. There is a deep strangeness, an alterity, in the individual human mind, a portion of ourselves that we never fully comprehend—and this is what writing taps, or is at least one of writing’s sources, one of its engines. This might explain the enigma of writing for so many of us, that the writing so often seems to know more than we do, that we are ‘behind’ the writing (“behind it” in that we make it, but also “behind it” in the sense that we can’t catch up with what it knows and reveals, that it is out ahead of us driven by energies in our possession but not entirely in our deliberate control). This essential strangeness, this unknowability, is a creative resource, perhaps the creative resource, the wellspring of art that shows us things we did not know but that are somehow inevitable and true—true to a reality or a knowledge we don’t yet possess, yet find in the moment of encounter possible, something we accept the fundamental being of even if its nature shocks or startles or repulses or unsettles us (Barthelme’s strange object covered in fur can only break your heart if you have accepted, in the instant of encounter, its essential being, even if you have not yet comprehended its strangeness, its otherness).

But while it might be mystifying how creative impulses and decisions emerge from somewhere within, that doesn’t mean we must make a fetish of that mysteriousness. For that unknowable portion of the human mind is also a domain of culture—a place crossed up by culture and history, where the conditions into which we were born have had their effect. Part of what is unknowable within us, at least until we investigate it, is the structuring of our very feelings and thoughts by what preceded us and is not our “own,” yet conditions our experience nonetheless. So the location of a writer’s strangeness is also the seat of history. A writer’s imagination is also the place where a racial imaginary—conceived before she came into being yet deeply lodged in her own mind—takes up its residence. And the disentangling and harnessing of these things is the writer’s endless and unfinishable but not fruitless task. Another way of saying this: the writer’s essential strangeness is her greatest resource, yet she must also be in skeptical tension with her own inclinations. Because those inclinations are in part an inheritance from a racial imaginary that both is and is not hers.”]

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I was reading through aome of the other asks and found one I saw was really neat so could I request R0635, UMP9, SOPMOD and Springfield having somehow had children with S/O, what they would he like as parents.

(Also what do you mean SOPMOD asexually reproduced an identical smaller version of herself HOW)

(GFL) RO635, UMP9, M4 SOPMOD II and Springfield as parents

(SOPMOD) "Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to handle the answers to, anon!" Much like the original ask with DEFY as parents, we will assume the child's genes for their mother's side is the DNA of the human they were designed from.

RO would be constantly worried about her and S/O's child.

She'd be worried about their safety, that they weren't spending enough time with them, and a myriad of other issues.

But the moment she hears their laughter, her worries melt away as she holds them.

RO didn't think too much on what she would do outside of war, considering she was a weapon, but now she has an idea.

As much as she wishes for them to be on base so she can watch them more closely, she doesn't want them in harm's way.

And more importantly, she does not want her child to have terrible influences like SOPMOD or M16A1.

(RO635) "A-Ah! Sweetie, please be careful, don't run! You could slip on the ice around here!"

RO is admittedly a bit overbearing and a touch too affectionate for her child but it's all out of a place of love for them, and nothing is getting between her son/daughter.

UMP9 literally could not be any happier with her child and S/O.

When she and the rest of Squad 404, she wanted to start a family when she had enough money.

And it looks like one goal was already taken care of!

Given the secrecy of her squad's operations, she doesn't openly visit her child for their safety.

But the moment she can, she absolutely smothers them in affection, picking them up and giving them kisses all over their face.

(UMP9) "I'm hooome!~ Give me a hug!"

UMP9's smile threatens to hurt the servos on her face with how much she does so, playing with her kid and having zero hesitation in indulging in whatever game they wanted to play with her and S/O.

UMP9 introduces her child to her cool "aunts" of 404, having to awkwardly explain why UMP45 was so sarcastic, HK416 was so "mean", and G11 was always asleep.

CHAOS

SOPMOD is excited to have a child to raise with S/O! It means that she can teach them all sorts of cool things!

Now S/O has to reign in the chaos of two people, since the child doesn't know any better, and SOPMOD is SOPMOD.

Whenever she isn't there to look after the child due to a mission or base safety, she lets her child have SOPMOD II Jr. accompany them.

The two apparently get into all kinds of trouble, but they aren't caught so it doesn't bother SOPMOD that much.

To which S/O cannot say the same about their feelings on the matter.

(SOPMOD) "S/O! Let's go play, mommy's got you a new toy!"

The new toy consisted of a child-sized flamethrower that she made herself, which had S/O sweating buckets trying to convince her to not let them use it.

Antics aside, she would never let their kid come to any kind of harm as long as she remained functional, and always triple checks to make sure they're safe.

Springfield works even harder at the cafe knowing that she has a child.

At the end of the day, she always makes sure to save enough sweets for her family to share.

Since Springfield is not often deployed on missions, she actually has her child stay in her room on base.

If they're old enough, she has them help out around the cafe with her, G36, and S/O.

Her smile seems to grow tenfold in their presence, admittedly spoiling them a great deal.

But she can't help it! She loves her kid far too much, but she isn't afraid to scold them when necessary. Especially when it comes to hard work.

(Springfield) "Dear, please bring your mother some coffee for her friends!"

She always baked before meeting S/O and having a kid, but now her muffin production has kicked into overdrive, to the point they always have extras no matter how many they eat.

[silverbirching]

Let's take a moment to talk about Armand, the coven master, the ancient one, the poorest wettest meow-meow, Our Lady of the Performative Victimhood.

I feel like Armand, if you encountered him as a human, would be one of those people you meet on occasion who have no strong sense of self, no center to their identity. You know, the person who smoked one joint in College and the next day was shopping for Bob Marley posters. The person who went all-in on in-groups. The person you'd dread getting a DM from because you know they're going to talk your ear off about their latest Thing, which could be Keto or Crossfit or Xenu or whatever. One of those poor sad bastards for whom the center cannot hold, for whom social signifiers and performative belonging do not cohere into anything. An echo at a higher pitch. The room always feels a little emptier when they're in it.

But of course, Armand is a vampire. And that means that whatever damage he had as a human is going to be magnified, exacerbated, turned into overdrive by the potent cocktail of superpowers, eternal life, and constant murder.

In The Vampire Lestat, Lestat at one point describes Armand--in the context of a scene in which he explains why he, Lestat, could never possibly love Armand in the way Armand is demanding to be loved--as "the embodiment of thirst itself." That's the trick. Lestat, for whatever his faults, feels things very passionately. Armand...

Armand feels nothing. Armand has an itch where feelings used to be, and he tries various things to try and scratch that itch. It's like the phantom signals from a missing limb. Being the coven master, the director, Lestat's lover, Louis' lover--all of these are the meaningless sparks of Cerenkov radiation that spit out of the ever-sucking void that lurks behind Armand's soft voice, his sweet face, his gentle, saintly sadness.

To be Beloved is his latest hobby. Perhaps next we'll want to try being Bereaved; he'll hold that up to the mirror to see if it matches his eyes.

Also, just as a side note, but Armand's perpetual label amongst the Undead in the books is that he "looks like a Botticelli angel"--Armand himself even makes a joke (I mean, sorta. Anne Rice tended to treat Humor the way British restaurants treat ice cubes) about it in his book. Would you LOOK at this guy.

The natural curls, the almond-shaped eyes that are a little too far apart, the cupid's-bow lips; like Botticelli's subjects, he looks dreamy, disassociated, perhaps a little sad. GOD the casting in this show is stupidly good.

In conclusion, any Anne Rice fans who bitch about Assad Zaman not being a redhead are both stupid and probably also racists. Good night!

[kringletheelf04]

This is crazy (chapter 6)

It's been over a week. A lot has happened already. First Charlie took dad to career day at school and blabbed that dads Santa and I'm the spirit of Christmas. Now he's under evaluation and Laura is threatening dad to take away custody. Currently I'm in the kitchen of my bakery rolling out sugar cookie dough.

The sound of music fills the bakery. The song Quiet, Heavy dreams by Zach Bryan bounces off the walls. I sing along to the lyrics

"How's a man get so homesick for a face he's never seen?"

"Yah know, I always thought that. Now I've met you I don't think I'll be able to stay away." A familiar voice snaps me out of my tranquility.

Turning around, I raise my rolling pin, ready to beat senseless whoever broke into my locked bakery.

I am met with a pair of coffee colored eyes. They shimmer with fondness I've seen only once before. It's Bernard!

"What the fuck dude! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I berate him, setting the rolling pin onto the counter and pause the speaker.

"First off, language. If you're gonna be the face of Christmas spirit you're gonna have to change that. Also I told you I'd be seeing you soon (y/n)." Bernard grimaces.

"This is crazy! That was just some silly dream!" I say as I pace the floor.

His grin drops, if only momentarily. It makes me feel bad. I've only spent a couple hours with this guy before and I'm already getting attached. This is such main character bullshit.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm here to help train you to be the Christmas spirit." Bernard states, hands buried in his pockets.

"How'd you even get in? The doors are all locked and all of our windows are stationary." I query.

"Elf magic." Bernard says peering over my shoulder.

"Well I can't 'train', or whatever right now. I have so many orders that need filled. I'm up to my ears in cookie dough. So unless you're here to help frost over 12 dozen snowflake cookies, then you need to vamoose." I go to wash my hands and continue to roll out the cookie dough.

"I don't think you get this is a big deal (y/n). Even if you're my soulmate I can't let you slack in responsibilities." Bernard walks next to me.

"I can't do this 'responsibilities' bull crap right now. I already have way to much on my plate. I have to make these cookies, pick up Charlie from school, and have dinner in the table by the time dad gets home. I cannot be talking to myself in the back room of my shop. I'm already going crazy talking to animals, not this too!" I rant to Bernard.

"Wait. Did you say talking to animals? When did this start?" Bernard grabs my shoulder and turns me to face him.

"The night that guy fell off our roof. The reindeer talked to me." I say setting down my rolling pin.

"You probably think I'm crazy, then again you're not even real, right!" I nervously chuckle.

"I'm real. Just as real as you are." Bernard states into my eyes

"So if you're real, then why don't you have a last name?" I cross my arms.

"Elves don't. It makes things easier when looking for your soulmate. Normally they are other elves. I've looked into it. You're the first ever human in elven history to have a soulmate." Bernard gets even closer to me.

I start putting the cookie dough back. I can't do this right now. I'll just do it tomorrow. If I get in early enough I'll be ok.

"So what exactly does this mean for me, for us I mean?" I untie my apron and fold it. I set it on the counter and wash my hands of any flour.

"You've got to move to the pole in approximately 10 months and 11 days. From there you will live out the rest of eternity spreading Christmas joy." Bernard explains.

"Christmas joy! That's bullshit." I spit.

" I read a bit about you. I'm sorry that such an experience has ruined so many precious moments for you." Bernard says softly.

"How do you know about my mom?" I ask, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

"As your soulmate, I'm required to know. And I'm sorry you had to go through that. It's not fair for any child of any age to lose a parent." Bernard pulls me into a hug.

He's warm, but not too warm. My arms go around his neck and his to the small of my back. If I'm crazy, I like crazy. I like him. He's been nothing but kind to me and now I feel like a jerk.

"I'm such a jerk! I'm so sorry!" I sob.

"It's ok. It's ok. I know you're under a lot of stress." He breaths softly.

I pull back and I'm sure my face is red and tear stained, but he looks at me like I'm the most beautiful person in the galaxy. So much love radiates off of him.

My eyes dart back and forth from his eyes to his lips. I start to subconsciously lean forward. His hand moves from my back to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes my cheek softly. I lean in just enough that our noses brush. I can feel his breath, uneven and heavy. My lips close in on his. His lips catch mine in a soft, yet passionate kiss. I swear I can feel sparks. He tastes of chocolate and a hint of peppermint. Suddenly he separates himself and presses his forehead onto mine. I take his hand into mine and squeeze lightly.

I pull away. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry!"

"It's ok. I'm your soulmate. It's natural to feel a pull to me. I sure feel a pull to you. If I didn't I wouldn't have kissed you back." Bernard pulls me into a embrace.

We are interrupted by the alarm on my phone going off. I grab it and curse.

"Fuck, I gotta pick up Charlie. Dad is supposed to be working late tonight and it's his weekend. I'm sorry to do this, but I have to go." I grab my car keys and turn back to him.

"It's ok. I know you've got a lot to do. I'll be visiting soon again. We got to get you trained. Your dad will fall into it, but you have to know what to do." He smiles and I swear the room brightens.

"I'll see you then!" I start out the door.

"By the way -" I start, turning around. Only to see just a poof of glitter in the air and Bernard nowhere to be seen. I scoff and lock the door behind me.

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria- Chapter 25

Coyne let out a soft little groan as he woke up, scowling immediately at Fez's looming form, as his memory had all but cut the moment he fell asleep, leaving him a crystal clear knowledge of who had knocked him out.

“Welcome back,”

“You knocked me out,” accused the mimic, trying to sit up.

The dragon put a firm hand on his chest to stop him, “Gentle now. Yes, yes I did... trust me, it was kinder this way. Having your organs rearranged is no fun for anyone if you're conscious through it.”

“Why, what exactly did you...” Coyne felt at himself, finding his limbs were all accounted for before moving to his body. Neck and chest intact, good, he needed those... but... when he got to his middle he found something was definitely different. He sat up, slowly now, grimacing at the odd sensation of an overly full belly that shifted a little with the action. “What did you...” he felt at himself, discovering that his belly was definitely rounder, lower down than his stomach.

“I did as I said, gave you another stomach for storage. You don't USE your human digestive organs any more so... I made them a little smaller and out of the way, to make room for a second stomach, for the egg.”

“Wait... the egg? The entire egg?” Now that he knew, he could feel the distinctive shape of the thing, heavier at the base, settled where he would have thought his guts should be. “Oh I don't like this... I do not like this at all...” he complained.

Fez shrugged, “I mean... not like you were using the rest of that space...” he patted Coyne on the back. “Don't worry, I've cushioned it with magic, that egg is extra hidden and extra secure. As soon as this is done, I promise, I will return you exactly the way you were.”

“What if this new stomach tries to push the egg over into my chest form?”

“I honestly do not believe it will... it isn't tied into your magic in quite the same way. I firmly believe the egg will remain in place safely now.”

“Why me though?” muttered Coyne. “Why not Alan, he's got... padding?”

“Hey!” the mage shot him a look. “I'm not padded, I'm just a little soft. I've probably lost pounds already hanging out with a dragon...”

Coyne looked over to see the two mages were sitting, ready to go.

“First of all, he's human,” explained Fez. “He needs his organs, if I interfere with them I might harm him. Secondly, he spends a lot of his time shrinking. Dragon eggs are shielded from most magic, and cannot be shrunk, otherwise I assure you that would have been the first thing I did to hide it.”

“Fiiine,” Coyne grunted, standing himself up awkwardly. “Let me just get changed, and I'll be ready to go.” He went and hauled his travelling clothes out of his bag and took himself off to a corner to change, taking a moment as he swapped his shirt to examine the new bulge in his middle. It didn't look too obtrusive, Fez had tucked the egg in there good by doing whatever he had done in there to the mimic's organs, so it barely showed. Looked like he had a bit of weight gain on his skinny frame, that was all. Still, he tugged his shirt down carefully over the shape, well aware of the responsibility that fell to him now. At least it would be nice and warm.

Once changed, he folded his good clothes into the carrying bag with the others' possessions and looked at the two mages. “How are we all travelling this time?”

“Same as before,” said Fez, “So you two get ready. I will get some food supplies and store them with Coyne so he can take care of you during the flight.”

The two mages looked at each other, then without a word of complaint, reached to their earrings, using the magic trigger word to shrink themselves down. They both knew the proceedure now. Coyne moved to pick them up, but quickly discovered his centre of balance was a little different now as when he bent down, the egg's weight shifted forwards. He felt his balance going, and quickly adjusted, turning to sit on the floor instead with a thump to avoid a forwards fall, and sighed in frustration. “Alright... okay... no leaning. Got it,” he muttered to himself.

He reached out and gently lifted the two small men up to him, “I'm starting to think think Fez is just testing to see what full occupancy is to me,” he said quietly to them with a smile.

“You can't be far off now...” said Alan, “That egg was big... are you alright?”

“Strained. But not hurting,” he confirmed, “Let's get you two sorted shall we?”

Alan nodded, allowing Coyne to bring him up close to his face, and clambering willingly into his mouth this time. He had become familiar enough with the process that he could freely do that part himself now, he trusted Coyne not to hurt him.

Feeling a little flattered about this, Coyne gently tipped his head back and swallowed, carefully pushing the small body inwards in a well practised movement. He did still miss the metallic tang of metal when he ate them but... he was growing pretty familiar with their own unique flavours. Once the first mage was down past his collarbone and well on the way, Coyne looked to Trevor, “You okay? I never did tell you good job for saving that egg,”

“It was Gregorio's plan, not mine,” said Trevor with a shrug, “I just caught the damn thing... it was heavy too. I think I'm getting a bruise.”

Coyne chuckled quietly, knowing the abrasive tone well enough by now to know it wasn't intentionally so. “Well. I think it's safe to say you did a good thing... and made some large, scaly friends in the process.”

Trevor scoffed, “Dragons. Making friends with dragons is a dangerous business.”

“Well I agree with you there,” said Coyne, “Yet it still seems better than your college.”

Trevor tipped his head, “Well you've got me there,” he chuckled dryly, “at least no dragon here has threatened once to weaponise me.”

“Take that as a win then,” said Coyne, pausing to clear his throat as Alan finally dropped into his stomach. “Now come on, let's get you settled for the flight.”

“Fiiiine,” sighed the druid, stepping forwards.

Coyne gently eased the small body into his mouth, positioning him carefully before swallowing. The small body slid down easily, as though he was getting better at this whole thing... then again he had had a lot of practice now. He leaned back on his hands, drawing slow, calm breaths as the lump squeezed its way down, passing through his chest, unresisting. He held still until he felt the druid 'drop' a little to join Alan, gently running a hand across his stomach. “You guys okay? There still room in there?”

“Yeah we're alright! It's a bit firmer in the bottom but we're okay,”

“Good,” sighed Coyne, looking over at Fez. “Quick question.”

“Hm?”

“How did you get the egg in there?”

“Magic,”

“And how will we get it out?”

“Cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Great,” Coyne exhaled a heavy, slightly exasperated sigh.

“Here,” the dragon gently herded Bubbles over to the mimic, where she flopped on her back on the floor and batted at his scaly nose with her paws, purring.

Coyne chuckled, gently scooping the cat up, “She's actually taken all of this really well... I would have thought being turned into other things would terrify her but... she's just rolling with it.”

“Animals are smarter than you think,” said Fez with a chuckle. “Now hold still, time to get you settled.” The dragon's huge jaws opened wide, and Coyne withdrew a little from the glistening golden maw. “Wait.”

For the first time ever, Fez stopped, tilting his head, “Hm?”

“Can you go feet first?”

“Oh... well...” this seemed to fluster the dragon slightly, as though it was not something he had ever been asked in all his long life. “I don't see why not... any reason?”

“I always go headfirst, and I always have to wriggle and dig myself about to get upright again. With this added weight... I really don't want to.”

“Well I suppose that's not unreasonable,” said the dragon, though he still seemed a little baffled.

Coyne smiled a bit, raising his feet off the ground and leaning back, allowing the dragon to move around and grab the offered limbs in his powerful jaws. He held Bubbles securely as the dragon shifted position a little and began to work his way up the assistant's body. It was the first time Coyne had actually watched himself being eaten from outside, and seeing Fez's neck bulge with his legs and hips made his belly pinch nervously. It wasn't that he felt frightened, it was merely an instinctual sense of 'oh dear, I'm being eaten, being eaten is bad.' Not to mention he could feel those mettalic razor teeth lightly scraping against the cloth of his travelling trousers. Though they never once caught or damaged the cloth, just knowing they were there awakened a fear that pretty much anyone would feel in the jaws of a dragon.

He closed his eyes to try and ease these feelings as Fez lifted his head, turning the gullet into a slide and swiftly drawing him downwards with the powerful gulps of an apex predator. It was a brief moment or two until he felt his legs dig into heaps of gold, and he let himself curl into the crop. He released Bubbles, and shifted himself, grunting as he ran his hands over his middle. It felt tight and full in his curled position, but he was in no pain, and leaned back quietly against the outside wall, pressing it with a hand, “You all set?”

“One moment... look up...” there was a gulp, and Coyne raised his arms just in time to catch their bag of possessions.

“Got it,” he chuckled, pushing the thing down to his feet so it wasn't in the way.  “We're all accounted for here,” he said, mentally counting off Blobfus, Bubbles, the two mages and the egg.

“Good. Now we are ready. Stay awake until we are fully on our way though, as I need you to store whatever food I send you.”

“No problem... don't think I'm ready to sleep again yet... not after everything that's happened.”

“Understandable,” said Fez quietly, and Coyne smiled as he felt the dragon nuzzle gently at him. He was glad his dragon was getting comfortable enough to show affection to them, and he gently stroked at the wall to return it.

After a few minutes, Fez checked around for anything they had forgotten, then padded out of the room. He was a little sad to be leaving so soon but he knew this was too important to wait. He had suspected that it would be a short stay anyway due to the nature of his visit.

As he flew down to the storage chambers to request some food for his journey, he was intercepted mid way by a huge cyan-blue shape. “Thought you'd sneak off without saying goodbye?”

“I would never dream of it Windred,” he chuckled, “I was just on my way to request some provisions, not leaving yet.”

The huge creature chuckled, and angled himself downwards, “come, walk the distance with me.”

Fez knew he needed to go but Windred was a dear friend and he would miss the companionship of other dragons for a while, so he did as asked, landing beside the much larger form and starting to walk.

“They tell me you are the one who found the egg?”

“With a little help from Coyne,”

“And between your other two assistants, they unveiled a fake egg of light, and then saved the same fake from an untidy end. Is that about right?”

“In a concisely put way... yes,” said Fez, nodding.

“You've certainly left an impression this time,” chuckled Windred, “Made a lot of new friends too. Especially those two humans... and I expected them to have all kinds of trouble fitting in!”

“I did too honestly,” replied Fez, “But they've managed it. Made some friends, met a lot of new creatures,”

“Well, here's hoping they return with you to the next council.”

“Here's hoping indeed. What are your plans now Windred?”

“My plans? Stay here of course. This is my home. Though it has been marked by an act of great wrong... it remains that. I will stay and continue my service making everyone look their best to be put before the council. There is trust to be repaired and wounds to be healed. Leaving would do nothing to ease that process.”

Fez chuckled, nodding. “You really must never change Windred. This place would be lost without you.” they reached the entrance to the storage area, and he made his request for supplies to a Ground dragon staffing the counter. As the dragon hurried off to obtain his items, Fez sat down, “You will say goodbye to Ditmar for me? I have not had a chance to catch him since he was sent off to find the owner of that egg.”

“Indeed, he is busy after all of that. I will find him and pass along your goodbyes.”

“Did they find the owner of the egg?”

“They did, Syd had taken it from a clutch in the midquarters of the island, hypnotised the parents so they let him do it.”

“And everyone is okay?”

“It will take time and healing but... I think so.”

“Good. Good.”

“Might I ask... where you did find the egg?”

Fez sighed, shaking his head, “Alas, I cannot say. I know you adore gossip but this is something the council asked me to keep to myself for the time being.”

“I understand. Maybe someday in the future then,”

“Maybe,” agreed Fez with a chuckle, “For now we can all just rest easy that the egg is safe.”

“Yes, that is a relief to us all,” Windred nodded.

As the Ground dragon returned with a sack of provisions, Fez thanked him and took the thing in his mouth, walking away a little before swallowing it down into his crop, feeling Coyne wriggle to get it stored out of the way. “Well, we must be off,” he raised his wings dramatically, smiling up at Windred.

“You must take better care of yourself Myfeziah,” said the Sea dragon, lowering his head to rub his chin against Fez's head.

Fez chuckled, butting his head against the chin, “Don't you worry about me... I have assistants now.”

“Yes, and I am confident they will look after you, they are well chosen. Now go. Go on before I get upset,” the dragon flicked his elaborately bejewelled hands dismissively at Fez in a 'shoo' motion.

Fez grinned, standing up on his hind legs to headbutt the other dragon's chin one more time, then flapped his wings and took off, gaining height before heading towards the exit.

As he flew though, he was surprised to be intercepted by a blue shape once again. Not Windred this time. This was a much darker blue creature, broader of face and thicker of body. Fez slowed a little in the air, “Heracleon?”

“The same,” replied the large dragon, coming to hover beside Fez.

“How may I help you?” They had met before but never had the chance to become properly acquainted.

“You may not, it is in fact I who come to help you.”

“How so?”

“The council has thought that perhaps you could use a guard on your flight back to Yfiria. In case you were tired from the... unexpected excitement.”

Fez considered this. A much larger dragon could be potentially useful, he was tired, and he sensed no word of a lie in the offer. The fact Heric had been cleared of any wrongdoing in the kidnap of his father's egg was reassuring, if he had wished the egg of light harm he would have had more chance than anyone to act upon it. “Well, it certainly couldn't hurt,” he confirmed, nodding his head. “It has been quite a day.”

“It's settled then,” said Heric with a stoic nod, “We shall fly you back to your mainland, to ensure no more attempts are made on the egg in the meantime.”

“We?”

“Of course,” chuckled Heric, “I am not flying alone.” He drew a claw over his crop, “Iewan never did get a chance to thank you and yours for your assistance clearing his name, so he wished to tag along.”

Fez chuckled and nodded, “Well, I am sure Coyne will be glad to know he's here,” he replied. “Shall we go?”

“Lead the way,” Heric replied, bowing his head and gesturing.

Fez straightened his wings into a glide to the exit, passing the snarky wall of rock and back out into the breezy, salty air of the outside. He inhaled deeply from the rocky ledge of the entrance, letting the wind clear his senses, and stretching his wings a little before he took off.

Inside, Coyne was already dozing a little, turned to the side, he had huddled up in the gold with his arms folded around himself. The two mages had snuggled in for a sleep, and Bubbles was slowly creeping up him in small, subtle movements. He didn't mind. For now, there was nothing he could do other than keep the egg nice and warm, look after his two more lively charges and wait for the flight to be over. He was a little concerned that this new stomach would still try to push its contents into his other form, but Fez had seemed confident that it wouldn't happen, so for now, he planned to keep the same procedure as before. Let the small mages out near dawn to stretch their legs, and avoid being sent over to the chest form, then put them back when they were tired.

They flew for longer this time. Aiming not to travel as far across the land as they had before. Instead the two dragons agreed on a longer ocean flight that would land them on a far more remote area of the Sidkenhall side of the wall. Landing that side would give Fez safe haven to rest once they were settled, and make it a much easier part of the wall to cross where there was less civilisation.

Fez felt a lot better flying such a long way with another dragon, and Heric's huge form was a reassuring presence on the periphery of his vision. The creatures of the open ocean seemed lot less intimidating with a Sea dragon by his side. If something happened to him and he were to crash it would be a real problem, but Heric was as comfortable in the water as he was in the air. Sometimes the huge dragon would even soar so low that he could dip his toes into the surfaces of the waves. At one point he even dipped below the surface completely, leaving Fez to look around, trying to spot the dark form until it burst through the crest of a wave and into the sky again, spraying salty water everywhere with his powerful wings. Fez stayed at a more cautious height from the water at all times, able to swim but much less comfortable doing so. Not to mention highly aware of the much larger predators that lay below the waves.

They flew together through day and night, then day again, an immaculate sense of direction steering them back towards Yfiria.

It was well into night time when twinkling lights of small fishing boats made them aware they were nearing land once again. Both dragons drew closer together, changing the way they flew, more gliding and less flapping, to draw less attention from the humans down below.

Passing the coast, they were on the lookout for somewhere to conceal themselves well away from prying eyes. Eventually, Fez made a call in his throat and veered off to one side, gesturing in the darkness. He had spotted a lake with a string of central islands, none of which had been bothered with by man, as they were too overgrown and small to be of use farming.

Heric nodded his understanding, and the two dragons circled in on the islands, scanning them for dangers or signs of life, and upon seeing nothing, Fez came in to land, coming to a graceful stop among the thick vegetation, and swiftly scuttling aside as the much larger Sea dragon came in for a similar landing.

“Good spot,” commented Heric as he looked around, stretching his wings slowly and then folding them down against his back.

“Mhmm,” Fez agreed, also stretching, his legs tired from behind held up in 'flight' mode for so long. “This land is full of little spots and hidey holes if you know what you're looking for... and stay away from the humans and their silly little wall.”

“I thought it was more of a dirty great wall?”

“Well yes, I suppose you're not wrong there,” Fez shook himself and patted at his crop, “Come on, wake up, do you wish to come out and stretch your legs? We're back on land.”

Coyne grunted awake at the question and sleepily pushed back at the dragon without really taking in the words, so he was given a bit of a rude awakening when the world tensed up, and Bubbles, who had been curled around his face like an overlarge scarf, suddenly mewled and clung in place.

A moment or two later, he felt the cold of outside on his damp skin, and was dumped gently, but a little unceremoniously, on the ground. “Ugh...” he wiped dragon saliva from his face and sat up a little stiffly. “A little more warning would have been nice...”

Fez grinned at him, “Come now you've been sleeping for two days. You can't possibly still be tired.”

“No but... stiff...” complained the mimic, stretching himself and carefully extracting Bubbles from around his neck. He looked around and spotted the looming form of Heric nearby. He had known Fez was flying with the huge dragon, having heard muffled snippets of their conversation, but it was nice to see him nonetheless.

“Good evening mimic,” said the Sea dragon, nodding his head in greeting.

Coyne nodded politely in response, “And good evening to you... did you have a pleasant flight?”

“Yes. Sometimes it is good to get out and fly,” said the Sea dragon, stretching his enormous form out on the rough foliage, apparently unbothered by the thorns against his scales.

“So... where are we then?” asked Coyne. “Other than 'back on land' Fez so don't you dare say those words.”

Fez gave him a grin, “Would I?”

“Yes. Yes you would. You great scaly heap of trouble.”

“Well, we are back on the Sidkenhall side of the wall, but much further south. This part is coastal, and a lot less populated. We have a choice of crossing the wall the same way as before, here where it is less guarded, or flying around the end of it altogether,” said Fez.

“Why didn't you just do that on the way out again remind me?” asked Coyne.

“I didn't know there was a wall of any significant danger until it shot me,” said Fez, gesturing to his injured leg. “And after that, I just didn't have the strength to take a detour that long without a lot of rest. As it turned out, I didn't have to, a convenient solution came waltzing my way pursued by a small group of soldiers if I recall.”

Coyne let out a little chuckle. “Seems a lifetime ago now doesn't it... and it's barely been any time at all...” he shook his head.

Fez smiled and leaned forwards to gently push his snout against Coyne's stomach, “How are they?”

“Sleeping,” said the mimic, “Are we just going to rest here for a while?”

Fez nodded, yawning, “That was a long flight, if we rest until tomorrow night, I should be ready for what lies ahead.”

Coyne nodded, standing to move about on the awkward, mostly root and plant, terrain, until he found a nice little alcove in the roots of some bushes, where the worst of the wind would be off him. Fez watched him silently, a knowing smile on his face, waiting for the mimic to get settled.

Coyne knew exactly what the dragon was thinking, but he refused to draw attention to it as he settled in this nice spot, pretending not to notice as Fez disappeared into a puff of purple smoke. A short while later, he chuckled as he felt scratchy little claws on him as the tiny Cave dragon went to clamber into his cloak. “I know, I'll wait until after dawn,” said Fez.

“Good. Because I wasn't gonna let you in yet anyway,” said Coyne, helping his friend get settled.

Fez poked his head out of the cloak to stick his golden tongue out at Coyne, then settled himself down, curling up against the mimic's body. A few minutes later Coyne was disturbed again as Bubbles came to lie across his neck like a purring scarf. He chuckled, and let himself fall into a light doze, aware that as soon as the sky began to lighten, he would need to release his friends.

When the time came, he did so a little reluctantly, settling them with Fez as he waited for dawn to pass.

It was as he lay like this that he heard a soft voice calling for him, and he blinked, sitting up a little. He could see Heric's large form was upright now, and another figure was there too, searching for him. He squinted in the half light, putting up a hand to wave and draw attention.

“Oh he's in there!” came a call, and the figure approached.

Coyne looked up in surprise to see Iewan peering down at him. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “I didn't know you came along!”

“Heric thought I could use the headspace,” said Iewan, hopping down into the little alcove as well. “So he asked me to fly with him.”

“I'm so glad to see they let you out,” said Coyne, moving aside so there was room for the man to sit.

“Yeah, I was pretty worried for a while there...” admitted the man, “Frightened the egg was lost, frightened they were going to kill me for taking it...”

Coyne put a hand gently on the human's arm, “Well we found the egg, it's safe, and the one who framed you did so only out of convenience, not hatred.”

“They said Syd had seen me sneaking about near the elders quarters that night, that's why I was put under guard... but... I wasn't! I was with Deeg most of the night, and they told everyone that but... for some reason they believed Syd instead.”

“Chief assistant to a council dragon,” sighed Coyne, shaking his head.

“Why though? Why did any of this happen? Who stole the egg? Heric says nobody was told...”

Coyne sighed a bit, lowering his voice, “It's... complicated. Fez found the egg with me but... we were sworn by Jintintaska never to explain what had happened to anyone.”

Iewan let out a little sigh and nodded, “I... guess it must have been someone pretty important then?”

Coyne nodded, “But the council have made their decision about what is to happen to the one whose actions led to all this. So. You can know it's been addressed.” Coyne wished he could tell the man more but, his promise to the council was important to him. Perhaps the whole truth would come out in time.

Iewan managed a smile and nodded, “Well good. I'm glad it's over, and I'm glad to be away for a little while. I think Heric feels the same, the mere accusation hurt his pride, despite the really convincing fake egg of light they had planted in his quarters.”

“I can understand that, dragons are a prideful lot.”

“Where is the egg now? I know it can't be shrunk, so Fez doesn't have it, did you put it in your other form?”

Coyne shook his head, “We decided it was risky to put something in there because we don't know how living things handle being in a pocket dimension.”

“So... where have you hidden it?”

Coyne looked about furtively before carefully lifting away the half of his cloak that the others weren't snuggled into, and gently touching at the shape. “Fez 'modified' me to make room for it... his logic was that I wasn't really using those organs anyway so...”

“Wow... that's a pretty good hiding place though,”

“Yeah you say that,” said Coyne, “But having someone else decide to rearrange your organs for their own convenience is its own down side...” he blinked as he realised something, then started to laugh, “But I suppose you do know what that's like huh?”

Iewan looked surprised for a moment, then his face split into a grin as well, “Well... you're not wrong!” he agreed.

The two cackled about this for a moment or two, until a rustling drew their attention, and they sat up to see Heric had come over to them, curling his large form around their little hiding spot as he peered down at them, yellow-gold eyes observing them calmly. “And just what are you two laughing about, disturbing the peace of the night.”

Iewan looked up at the large dragon, “Sorry,” he said with a smile, “It's nothing, we're just being silly... it's good to laugh sometimes.”

“After all you've been through, that is reasonable,” said Heric with a bow of his head. “However, we all should rest. There is a long road ahead for all of us,” he shifted his body to curl a little more securely around their hidey hole, and raised one of his wings, unfolding it over all of them in a gentle movement, laying with his head just beside the two men.

Coyne smiled, shrugging and settling down. Iewan came to lie back to back with him, and the mimic let himself doze as he waited for dawn to pass so he could conceal his friends again. And silently Bubbles stalked to climb back onto his face.

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I'm gonna have to hurry up these Tumblr uploads if I wanna get it caught up before the book is finished posting everywhere else lol.

[moonjxsung]

Star!!

I miss your writings and I keep coming back~ It sucks that you had to take some of them down, but I agree that people should appreciate your work beyond the smut thing. Your writing is top-notch and could totally be on the best-seller shelves if you ever decide to publish it! Show some respect, peeps!

Anyway, when you talk about why did you start Tumblr, it reminded me of myself. We're the same age and kind of similar in terms of our experience with religion and our escapism. But I'm impressed (and grateful) that you still could be productive when going through that. For me, it messed up my life and I didn't know how to handle it. I went to one of the best universities in my country and almost dropped out 3 years ago. I took a break for a year and transferred to The Open University so I could finish my degree while working (yes, I am still in college). I'm still struggling, but life is getting better now.

And I just wanna thank you for writing such comforting stories, they are one of my coping mechanisms! <3 They help me cry (yes, cry is good) through my bad days. :)

Oh my sweet angel :( I wish you could see the way I teared up reading this. (TW: religious trauma)

First off- I want to reiterate that you’re doing absolutely phenomenal given the circumstances. It’s not easy by any means and I still feel like I’m under constant condemnation under some watchful eye every single day that I’m alive. It hinders my ability to go out, embrace my sexuality, be a human being- even to write on some days. It’s so difficult not to associate the unfortunate events that life throws your way with the punishments of some cruel god. I went through something in my sophomore year of college that permanently changed me and I’m still so certain it had to be divine intervention- in both a way that benefitted me, but hurt first it hurt me badly.

I carried around a bible with me for the 2 years I was out of a job and shut inside of my room, just ruminating on the past, studying religion, trying to make sense of science and divinity alike. And I don’t think I was ever able to fully grasp it- as a concept, as a lifestyle, as something people could comfortably live with. I had a friend who converted to Christianity in the same period of time I was struggling with it, who verbally called me to say she “heard the voice of Christ” and had begun her transition to Christianity, the very same religion I was struggling with. I cried to my sister that very same night and I stayed up all night wondering why I’d never experienced the same, why I felt like I wasn’t worthy of a relationship with a higher power no matter how hard I tried. And despite struggling so hard, my intrusive thoughts led me to believe I was going to die at any given moment, and I couldn’t go anywhere without my bible. Imagine trying to explain to your best friend why you HAVE to sneak a bible into the movie theater on your 21st birthday celebration despite not believing in god anymore. That was a new low 🤕

I was told to believe in something from a young age that would dictate my entire life, and it fucked me up real bad. And just when I felt that I needed answers, I felt more abandoned than ever. I can’t seek them out without risk of being converted or swayed into some cult-ish organization, and people want to comfort me with the standard “don’t think about it!” And it’s like…. I physically cannot. I am overrun by my ocd and intrusive thoughts, religion is on my mind 24/7 and I’m overcome with guilt at any given moment.

You are not defined by your struggles with divinity- they’re simply heavy burdens you bear. And I know it’s hard, but do whatever you need to do in order for some peace of mind. For me, in college it meant skipping a lot of lectures when I needed to, being open to my professors about what was happening, quitting my job for some time and just allowing myself to feel and question anything that needed to. I’m doing better, but I still bear the burdens and I think that I always will. And in the meantime, I write to distract myself, and I pull back when I feel consumed by guilt again. Just play life by ear and know that we’re all going at our own pace ❣️ I love you very much and I’m always here if you need to talk about it. Sending you all the love in the world, I’m so glad to hear things are getting a little better and I have no doubt that you’ll get there in due time :’)

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[pen-observing]

request: how lucifer, mammon, satan, belphegor and diavolo react and find out about you having 'I now own your soul' under the terms and conditions of a webpage.

Lucifer:

While Lucifer is certainly busy all the time, and tries to balance it by having you in his study as he works, he can’t hide how tired he has actually been for the past 4 weeks.

All you know is that Diavolo has made the meetings more frequent and they are taking a toll on him

And since he means that much to you, regardless of if you wish to acknowledge it or not, you have to ask what is going on once he stands up and walks over to reach for another bottle from his shelf Lucifer does not drink that often and he certainly doesn’t try to avoid work by drinking.

Just what could be making him act this way?

“Lucifer, you have to tell me what is going on.”

He stands on his side of the desk just pouring another glass down.

Curse him for being elegant and showing his forearms while doing so!

And then he dares to look at you with full focus and furrowed eyebrows and he is about to say something and he looks like-

‘no. You are human.’

Fuck.

“Come on! You know I won’t tell anyone!”

He does trust you at least after so long.

"Very well. I will tell you since it has something to do with a human. If, by any chance, you spread the information, the price you pay will be a heavy one."

He can’t intimidate you that much but you know when he is serious.

"You see, recently, Diavolo has had more issues than ever with someone we like to call ‘code soul stealer"

“Uhn,, and that is?”

He takes a sip of his drink and holds the glass while looking at you.

“Apparently, a pesky human added ‘I now own your soul’ in their terms and conditions on a web page and some application. With this, they have stolen many souls and Diavolo has grown even more concerned these past few weeks since the page is just gaining popularity.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Thats you that he is calling a pesky human! You only did it as a joke because you saw a meme! It wasn’t supposed to make an enemy out of you to the prince of hell!

How are you supposed to tell Lucifer that? How will he react?

Maybe if you do tell him it will actually create more good than harm?

Or, you could hide it for the rest of your life and- no! The honest way with Lucifer is the best way. He trusts you enough so you have to trust him too!

“Lucifer...I am the pesky human you are referring to...”

He drops the glass. 

“I swear I had no idea souls were actually real and now I own a lot of them! O-On the good side I went viral 4 weeks ago so...oh, that is why you’ve been so busy....sorry.”

Lucifer says nothing.

He just falls into the chair in the most dramatic way you’ve ever seen.

He covers his face with both hands and groans into them loudly.

If you were not ‘code soul stealer’ you would laugh at him right now. But he has to figure out a way to protect you now.

Mammon:

You see, dating Mammon means that you two will bicker plenty.

However, it is usually silly stuff that you bicker about like; are gold or silver lines better on this cup of tea or not?

He just loves you too much to get into a serious argument with you.

However, Levi dragged you both to play a spy/heist game that just came out and Mammon cannot accept to lose such a challenge.

He is not proud that people call him thief, but he is proud and believes he has the skills to back up his many enrichment-plans

So the fact that you won against him for 3 times in a row is UNNACCEPTABLE under this dark, dark sky.

Mammon denies it all. ‘i went easy on you’; ‘I did it cuz you are happy when you win’ and ‘please, don’t you know who I am? I am THE Mammon!”

And while he is cute while bickering, sometimes it becomes unbearable.

So, you do what any normal human would: you challenge him by listing your biggest ‘heist’ ever.

“You don’t know who you are talking to! I have created a heist unlike any other! I have stolen a million souls so far! The DevilTV refers to me as – unstoppable soul collector!”

Levi left long ago so Mammon is standing there completely stunned with the stupidest look on his face so far. He kind of looks like a blowfish.

Still, he runs and puts a hand over your mouth and whispers:

“Don’t yell! We don’t want others to know that we run that business!”

Excuse him? Who is this –we- he speaks of?

“You will add your boyfriend to those plans, won’t you?”

Mammon will not let shock stand in the way of money or souls. You can explain to him how you managed that later but for now – just add him as your accomplice.

Satan:

You love your boyfriend.

You really, really do.

You love seeing him so excited and focused on finding clues to the newest Devildom mystery that you chose to let him have his fun by not telling him YOU were the one he was searching for.

And while you love him that much, you are about to ruin the whole game.

Why does he think it is appropriate to own 48 pairs of the same Sherlock Holmes outfit with THE UGLIEST MATCHING HATS YOU HAVE EVER LAID YOUR EYES ON.

First, he wore them in his ‘detective office’ only. Also known as the Lamentation house storage room for cleaning products. And that was fine, it was.

But then he started to wear them inside the house and in the garden. The saddest day was when a cat knocked the ugly hat off and ran away with it. Oh praise that cat! Praise the little paws!

However, he has gone too far.

He knows no bounds and shows no signs of stopping.

He started wearing the outfits OUTSIDE! In the middle of cobblestone paths of the main street while you were trying to have a nice date!

"Who knows where the soul snatching culprit could be hiding? I must wear this outfit everywhere to catch their clues. Trust me.”

That is it.

If one more iguana-looking-ass demon points their finger at you two and snickers as you walk past – he will have a rude wake up call.

How is it possible that he is trying to catch the culprit that is you but doesn’t pay any attention to you?

So, when you arrive home and he walks into the mop closet to add another unrelated photo to his crazy whiteboard as a clue – you tell him to sit down for a moment.

“Satan, honey, I have something to tell you about your soul snatching culprit.”

That definitely got his attention.

Finally! He is actually looking at you!

You lean down and gently kiss his head.

“I am the culprit you’re looking for. How does it feel to completely miss something right under your nose?”

He freezes up and throws a pen towards the whiteboard. It just bounces off and hits him in the back.

“You....you mean to tell me that,,, the biggest Devil Mystery TV phenomenon is ACTUALLY YOU?”

You are met with complete disbelief. Satan demands a detailed explanation on how you did it. He even tells you to use his whiteboard to retrace your steps!

...good luck...

Belphegor:

Will Belphegor ever actually publicly say that he has changed because of you? No.

Will he ever actually admit that to other brothers besides Beel when they’re talking in the late hours of the night in their room? Oh, absolutely not.

Will he tell you? Yes.

Yes but.. He will leave something out.

Sometimes Belphie looks at how you smile and remembers things that make him famous in this realm.

Yes, he is one of the most powerful demons and yes, he has a reputation of rebellion and the biggest steak of unattendance in RAD but

He is also a fairly famous scholar.

His papers and research are cited on the regular.

But when you smile and say a witty joke – he remembers that most of them focus around him proving just how dumb or naïve humans actually are.

But, you’re human and he hopes that you never see those.

Except that you do.

Because he is so famous it is no surprise that while looking for research papers to reference for your next assignment you saw his name while browsing through

And while you love him - you will not allow him to just diss the whole mankind.

So, you grab one of them from the library. Walk home, go to the attic while he is napping and open it up, putting it right on his face.

It takes a couple of seconds but he feels something is wrong and his hand reaches for it.

When he pulls it away, he is met with his thesis that was further developed from the seduction speech class assignment.

It sets it up as: ‘Seduction speech as a matter of blatant deception that humans always fall for but could never recreate.’

You are not even that mad at it to be honest.

But proving him wrong is always fun. And little does he know about your biggest secret ever.

“I will cut right to the chase and say – fix your bangs I want to see the way your eyes look when I tell you this!”

“I wonder who messed up my bangs with the academic paper in the first place?” is what he replies but his hand is already on his forehead.

“Whatever. Prepare to be amazed! I am the one the elders of the devildom are always ranting about on TV! Yes, I am the ‘pesky little human’ who is stealing away ‘edible’ souls! How is that for your thesis now? Is that not true deception?!”

He likes your smile still. You’re standing in front of the bed looking at him with sparkling eyes and clenched fists while striking a pose. It is silly really but he smiles.

Because you are.

And while he will ask you a bit more about that claim, he is just happy to know that maybe his next academic paper (which everyone eagerly awaits) will be tad more positive to your kind.

Diavolo:

You got an urgent call from Barbatos.

On the doorstep he told you that Diavolo needs you in his study.

What could you do that Barbatos can’t and will help Diavolo? Does such a thing even exist?

You walk inside of his office and are pretty sure Barbatos did not want to go inside because of the fact that a rat could be hiding under the mountain of papers that are all around the room.

Usually, Diavolo immediately stands up, lights up the room with his smile and stretches out his hands for a hug.

Now? He hears the doors open and looks at you with a weak smile while his head is resting on his elbows from behind the desk.

He has never looked worse.

“Barbatos said you called for me?”

You are unsure where to begin with this so you state a fact while thinking of questions to ask.

“He has? I have done no such thing?”

Great. Now both of you are confused.

“Can you tell me what is going on?”

Diavolo sighs and his smile is still nowhere to be seen.

“The elders have been so annoying lately. I understand that the biggest threat to the Devildom and everyone’s life here still has not been identified but there is nothing I can do except search!”

Just what threat is that? What could be making Diavolo so miserable?

“They keep comparing me to my father without actually offering any ways of fixing this!”

“I will try to offer some way if you tell me what the threat is!”

There you are, making a grand exclamation and promise while trying to avoid papers on the floor. Diavolo sighs again.

“A human is ruining our business! They somehow set up a page that allowed them to own souls by consent in some application under the terms and conditions. I mean, this has never happened before! Humans were never expected to think of that or have access to such means! And the name they used was fake. How am I supposed to find them and then burn them in the darkest pits of hell as the elders want me to?”

You stop trying to avoid the papers.

Did...did he just say darkest pits of hell? Did he just say the elders want YOU burned?!

How are you supposed to fix this? It was a fucking joke! You did not imagine this could ever happen!

“Diavolo you promised you would protect me no matter what, right?”

His eyes are serious when you say that. “Yes. I will. Is something amiss?”

“Diavolo.... I am the enemy your elders want to burn.. PLEASE DON’T LET THEM! MY SKIN JUST ADJUSTED TO THIS TEMPERATURE!”

Diavolo looks at you and laughs like never before. It is cute, it is childlike. His laugh finally lights up the room.

He thinks you are joking.

He thinks you are joking and abruptly stops once he realizes that you did not join in on the laugh.

You were just trying to crack a joke and make him feel better, right? There is no way that is true, right? But judging from your reaction he knows it is.

So, he grows serious once more.

He runs to embrace you.

“Please tell me you are willing to make a compromise because the elders do not care about how your skin adjusts to the temperature.”

[sondepoch]

HC: MC is more flexible than them!

Perfection is certain. Perfection is solid. Perfection is the body of a demon or an angel, where there is no room (or need) for bones to crack and muscles to stretch. You and Solomon, though? You’re human. Not so “perfect” when compared to the other inhabitants of at RAD—but that just makes it all the more interesting when they finally see the way the human body can crack and bend

Word Count: 5.5k

SFW + mild descriptions of cracking body parts

Characters: All brothers + All Undateables + Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

Instant panic mode

Man just learned that it’s possible for humans to break bones, so when he hears you casually crack your knuckles, he instantly assumes that all your fingers are broken

Finds it even more terrifying when you lean your head back and crack your neck 

Honestly, the look of sheer horror on his face would be terrifying if you didn’t find it so funny

Is actually super confused when he realizes that you’re 100% fine but will not lower himself to actually asking you about it. That is not the Lucifer way, and so this man instead decides to secretly binge Satan’s collection of human anatomy instead

But uh, he gets scarily into it

Seriously, you’re starting to get concerned when it’s been nearly two full weeks of Lucifer ignoring you to bury his nose in a book, eyebrows furrowing every goddamn time he finishes one, and still has no clue what that cracking sound is 

It’s only when you casually do it at the dinner table and Asmo cringes, complaining about how weird it is that humans get pockets of gas inside certain joints and they actually have to crack it out, to which all his brothers nod their head and cringe when you do it again, that he understands what it is

Has never been more relieved

He isn’t as disturbed by the sound as he was before, so it’s not as fun to tease him with it - but you can count on the fact that if you ever crack anything in his presence, he will pause whatever he’s doing to study you for a moment and make sure your face isn’t contorted in pain or anything

After all, he needs to be completely certain that you haven’t broken a bone

But someone help this man when he realizes how much more flexible humans are compared to demons

The first time you do a backbend in front of him, he actually flinches

Man can’t help but imagine himself in those poses - and no matter how sexy you look when you’re winking at him and stretching your body like it’s glue, his bones would have to be shattered to bits for him to do the same

Quietly asks you not to stretch yourself into such positions in his presence

On the bright side, you can shut him up in the middle of any lecture by “casually” stretching your arms back until the demon is so disturbed that he stops in the middle of his sentence and asks you to leave as soon as possible

All in all, not a big fan - but he can tolerate your antics (if only to save face)

But if you ever show him videos (or even pictures) of a contortionist, he may actually be scarred for the rest of his almost-eternal life

Mammon

Man really needs to learn how to knock

He barges into your room without warning, as usual, only to see you all but straddling the ground, legs spread wide apart as you lean to one side and touch your right toe

It’s the most basic human stretch there is - but it’s terrifying to Mammon

You don’t even get the chance to say hi to him before he’s lifted you onto your feet, pulling you up from under your arms, desperately asking why you weren’t screaming for help 

Cannot process the fact that you were actually in that position willingly, much less the notion that it felt remotely good

Of course, you respond to his obvious aversion by showing him all the other ways your body can bend, flopping onto your bed and bending your body into a perfect bridge position

Mammon’s screeches when he sees the arch your back makes

It lowkey gives him nightmares the next night

Also becomes very touchy after he sees you move your body around so comfortably

In his eyes, you’re now the equivalent of a giant teddy bear - and really, what are the differences, now? He uses you for cuddles and hugs, can seemingly bend your body in any way and you’ll bounce back, and your skin is so soft compared to the hardness of his own body

Man actually grows used to your body after a while, holding a strange fascination for the way you can move

Begins to think that it’s cool when you show him how you can crack your knuckles and such

Absolutely makes use of the fact that some of his other brothers hate the sound, casually walking up to them with you by his side and asking them (while you crack your knuckles) to forgive his debts

Works 90% of the time

The 10% when it doesn’t work, though, he gets into trouble

In his free time, though, he actually likes lying with you and trying to figure what other body parts you can crack

Courtesy of Mammon, you learn that you can crack your hip if you stretch at a certain angle

(Bonus:) He one day tries to stretch his body the way you stretch yours and does a basic hamstring stretch on the ground, trying to touch his toes, but the exertion is too much for his inflexible body and he sort of locks a joint, so he’s left on the floor for nearly half an hour until you find him in his room and help him out of it

(Bonus bonus:) After his trauma from the above incident, he immediately goes back to assuming that you’re in great pain every time he sees you do a particularly difficult stretch and instantly lifts your body out of the position, no matter how you protest and say that you’re fine

Leviathan

"What a normie”

That’s the only reaction you get when you crack your knuckles in front of him, eager to see what he’ll do after realizing how much it disturbs his other brothers

Needless to say, you’re disappointed by his utter nonchalance

But that’s only because you have no clue what happens to Levi when he runs to his room and closes his door, jumping into his bathtub with a shook expression on his face

“Oh my god!” He squeals. “iT wAs LiKE iN tHe aNImES”

Nah, fr tho

Man has seen more than enough human-world shows which feature characters cracking their knuckles before getting down to work, so he’s pretty familiar with the concept

Like many things in anime, he was only 60% sure that it was real

But you actually did it

And it was in real life

Man is practically fanboying over a perfectly normal phenomenon

While you’re sitting in the living room, thinking that he was utterly unfazed by it :(

But when the two of you have a whole year to spend together under the same roof, it’s honestly inevitable that the truth comes out

“You like it?” You ask, pure confusion settling over your faces. After all, he’s the first of the brothers to not be utterly horrified by your little habit

“N-no!” Levi shouts, hiding his face. “I mean, maybe...just a little...sort of...but not in the normie way!”

Boi is too cute for his own good

Of course, you humor him and proceed to crack every single joint you can think of, sending a wink Levi’s way 

It would be so easy to tease him, wouldn’t it? To mess with him and call him strange, to compare to his brothers and remind him that you’re not an anime character - and that anime is, in fact, based on humans, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that humans could crack their knuckles the way he’s seen online

But, he’s too precious. And too cute. And he’s too adorable, staring at you with that utterly captivated expression, so you can’t help but humor him again, asking if he wants to see some of the other differences between humans and demons

And when you show him how you can bend your body, man is shook all over again

He 100% thought that the absurd stretches (like a split? how preposterous) were merely fabrications of animation - flourishes added in by animators to make the visuals more interesting

But seeing you move like that? And when you show him the other stuff?

Congratulations. Boi is officially convinced that humans are more interesting that anime can ever be.

Satan

One of the few demons who was already familiar with the fact that humans are ridiculously flexible and can crack nearly everything in their body 

He was actually the one to approach you about it

“Stretch for me, human.”

Or well, the same thing but in less blunt words

Actually invites you to have tea with him where he first broaches the subject, confirming that you'll be fully comfortable with everything he wants to study

Lmao man really arranges to have a safe word in case he pushes you too far

Once you’ve agreed to letting him study how the human body can bend and crack, the two of you set a time and meet up in his room (and yes, he does clear his books out of the way to make room for you)

And so the stretching begins

It actually feels quite awkward at first with Satan showing you pictures from human world yoga books and asking you to mimic them, taking notes in a book on everything 

Gets really excited when he realizes that your flexibility is a function of how often you stretch, and once he realizes that you’re able to go a little farther each day, he becomes lowkey obsessed with finding out whether there's a limit or not

Boi may or may not secretly try to stretch in his own room in case demons are just naturally less flexible and need to stretch regularly to become like humans

Also almost breaks his arm attempting that, so he never tries it again

The whole ordeal fits itself into your routine after long enough: after school, you go to Satan’s room and do yoga while he jots down notes on how your body moves, and after everything is done the two of you have tea

Satan never touches you while you’re stretching for fear that he’ll physically push you into something uncomfortable, but when you explain that certain positions are easier to hold if someone helps, he’ll definitely try to be a helping hand

He starts out really tentatively, hesitant that he’ll be too strong and will push you to the floor or something, but he’s pleasantly surprised to find that humans are more resilient than he’d initially thought

After his notebook is filled with notes and he’s suitably convinced that all his questions are sated, he’ll express his gratitude and tell you that you don’t need to continue 

But if you tell him that you’ve been enjoying your time together, man will 100% clear that space in his room permanently, so that you can spend time there together while Satan asks you calming questions about your day and you stretch the tension of the day out of your muscles

Asmodeus

Jelly boi

Nah but fr

Man couldn’t care less about your ability to crack your knuckles and neck - if anything, he finds the habit to be irritating

But boi is jealous when he sees how easily you can bend your body and stretch into positions that even he can’t

Obviously, his mind is in the gutter when he’s thinking about the way your body can bend - but he’s equally furious of the fact that human skin is so much softer than demon skin

Like, yes. Most demons have near-perfect skin because of its taut texture - and yes, that gives them the illusion of perfection

But human skin, blemished as it is, is like a teddy bear next to a rock when compared to demon skin

And obviously Asmo’s skin is softer than everyone else’s (this man is NOT skimping out when it comes to his skincare routine), but it infuriates him that his skin isn’t as soft as yours 

Of course, man bounces back quicker than anyone else (as expected)

He grows content with the texture of his own skin the moment he realizes how easily penetrable human skin is - namely when he’s doing homework with you and he sees your skin get sliced open by paper, of all things (man nearly chokes when he learns that this is a regular occurrence for humans)

But he never quite loses his fixation for the human body

It’s highkey the reason why he likes touching you so much - your skin is softer than some Devildom blankets! If he could fall asleep with your arms wrapped around him every night, he absolutely would

But he won’t genuinely request that of you unless you explicitly offer, so he’ll settle for simply hugging you at every opportunity

Ofc, the moment he grows content with the texture of his skin, he’s jealous of your flexibility all over again, so it’s kind of nuts

You eventually have to sit him down and tell him all the downfalls of being able to bend yourself into awkward positions (ex: getting stuck in said position or causing a cramp) for him to finally be content with his own body once more

The moment he’s back to normal, all the usual flirtatious jokes come back and he’s offering to let you show him the ways your body can bend

You deny instantly

But if he ever takes you to a club and has the opportunity to dance with you, do a body roll

Man will get on his knees if that’s what it takes to have you do it again

And then he’ll whisk you off to his room, stubbornly ignoring his brother’s protests, declaring that he needs to “reeducate” himself in the art of dance, and that you’re going to be his teacher

And hey - give him a private show while you’re at it ;)

Beelzebub

The first time you crack your knuckles in front of him, he’s eating

Man doesn’t really register it, just assumes that he bit something crunchy 

The second time you do it, it’s in his and Belphie’s room - and Belphie is taking a nap

Man gets a little suspicious, because the sound definitely came from your end, but he dismisses it and decides that the sound must have been a hitch in Belphie’s breathing

But the third time, the two of you are alone

And Beel’s protective instincts come rushing to the surface when he realizes that you really are the one making that sound

“Are you dying?”

First question, no matter what. Man has heard of medical conditions that cause bones to become brittle and crumbly, so he needs to know

Then again, he won’t really believe you when you tell him the truth

“You can...crack stuff at will?”

beelisconfuzzled.exe 

You have to show him methodically, portion by portion, which of your body parts you can crack

He isn’t disturbed by the sound (he’s eaten things which sound much worse, he can assure you) but man is intrigued

(”But how?” He’ll inevitably ask, struggling to yank his own knuckles off in an attempt to crack them and get that feeling of satisfaction you kept talking about)

All in all,he has a decent reaction - probably one of the only people who won’t overreact about the information

But then the fateful day comes

And he cracks your back

It happens while he’s giving you a big bear hug, proud of you after you came running to tell him about a good grade you got in Devildom Literature - and he places his palm on your back in just the right area, pressing down as he hugs you

And pop

Man is so mortified, he almost drops you

You, on the other hand, cannot be more pleased with this development

“Again! Again!” You shout, trying to get him to repeat the action - but while Beel loves hugging you, cracking your back is something he’s not willing to risk

“It’s okay when you do it, because you know how much your back can take” is his biggest argument. "But I don't."

And unfortunately, calling him a chicken won’t work when you try to convince him otherwise :(

What will work, however, is convincing Beel that this can be a sort of strength training - because he needs to have full control of his body to do it right

He’ll agree to do it once (mainly because you’ve been begging for so long)

But, obviously, “once” means as many times as you want, from there on out ;)

Belphegor

It’s one of the few times where Belphie isn’t in tune with his brother

And he hates it

He doesn’t understand how Beel isn't disturbed by the sound - every time you crack your knuckles, it sends a shudder straight down Belphie’s spine

And it’s not the ick factor taking place. It’s just that Belphie can’t help that his mind wanders to darker places whenever you do something like that, the sound abruptly reminding him of his time in the Celestial War and all the awful things he heard there

Like others, the sound reminds him of how weak you really are

And so, if you ever crack your knuckles around him, expect him to leave instantly

He’s the one brother who will never learn to tolerate it - not when he can remove himself from the situation so easily

And honestly, it’s kind of amazing how sharp his ears are

Is he taking a nap on your lap? If you think you can subtly crack anything without his eyes shooting open, you’re wrong

Is he preparing dinner with you in the kitchen? Nope, the sound of boiling water will not cover the sound of your body stretching too far, and Belphie will shoot you a glare before swiftly exiting the room

Is he simply doing homework with you in the RAD library? You’d think that the sound of chatter from the table next to you would hide the noise you make when you subtly lean back to crack your back, but Belphie is gathering his things mere seconds later, huffing and muttering under his breath

So yeah

Not a fan

On the other hand, he loves how accommodating your body is in terms of how flexibly you are

It brings him great joy, honestly, to just watch you flop your arms around aimlessly because humans’ movements are so fluid, so smooth, so unhindered by the rigid joints of demons

And, obviously, your flexibility makes for better naps

He likes to sleep next to you with his arms wrapped around your waist while you latch onto him in whatever position you deem comfortable

Without a doubt, the position you find is something that would be wholly impossible for a demon (how are you bending your legs that much?!) and it sometimes scares him to realize the full extents of your flexibility (can all humans twist their arms like that, or is it just you?) but he loves that you use your body’s oddities to pull him closer

And he’ll never deny you a comfortable nap if you’re willing to cuddle so readily

Never

Unless you crack your knuckles, that is

Solomon

Life is war and cracking body parts is your only weapon

Aka nonstop competitions between you and our resident wizard boy, both of you cracking body parts back and forth until one of you either fails or runs out of things to crack

Knuckles? Come on, are you even trying? Give him something less basic

Back? Oh yeah. Both sides, too - and the loud ones

Hips? You didn’t think it was possible, but Solomon will look you in the eye and hit one side of his hip, the movement a prelude to an instant CRACK which rings out oh-so-gloriously from the other end

Ribs? You realized you could crack them once and never stopped - you’re actually the one to teach Solomon how to do this

Neck? Always the finisher. So loud, and so satisfying

Neither the House of Lamentation nor Purgatory Hall ever wants to have the two of you over at the same time, because the residents know that you and Solomon will have these competitions. And they absolutely hate it.

So what do you do?

Go to the library and disturb the demons there, of course

It actually becomes a pretty sick form of payback to all the annoying demons that look down on the two of you for being humans, because they always cringe so hard when you guys do this

The two of you have deduced that the sound of knuckles cracking is the demon equivalent to the sound of nails on a chalkboard

And you fucking run wild with it

No one wants to piss either of you off, because you’ll both glare at the demon in question and proceed to crack every body part known to mankind (like seriously - it’s reached the point where you guys can crack your TOES, and if that isn’t absolutely amazing, then you don’t know what is)

It actually highkey annoys the demons in your classes, because you guys always crack everything right before an exam and while it helps you focus better, it effectively ruins their concentration

Ofc you guys don’t really care so they can suck it

But uh

Okay so the demons at RAD may or may not get fed up of you both one day and petition for Diavolo to instate a “No cracking body parts” rule in school

So yeah your primary source of entertainment sort of disappears after that point

But no worries, you and Solomon head to the downtown shopping districts instead and become the BEST hagglers in town

“Hey, can we get these shirts on a discount? Huh? You don’t do discounts? 

*Aggressively cracks everything until the demon just wants them out of the store*

“How about now BICH?”

Simeon

You’re actually not the one to introduce Simeon to the idea of humans being able to crack their body parts at will

No, it’s Solomon who steals that pleasure from you

But will Simeon ever let the sorcerer know just how much it unnerves him? Absolutely not. So what does our beloved angel do?

Why, there’s only one option

Come running straight to you.

Man is disturbed. Honestly, disturbed is phrasing it lightly. If he were in his angel form, you’d be able to see how his feathers ruffle and flutter at the very thought of that sound

Needless to say, he hates it

(You 100% consider cracking your knuckles in front of him, just to tease him, but you decide against it)

See, Simeon is an angel. And that means 99% of the time, he’s surrounded by other holy spirits, all of which have bodies molded to perfection that simply cannot crack the way yours can. Whereas demons are forced into human interaction a little more (oft when they're summoned), Simeon really isn’t used your fragility, no matter how much he tries to remind himself of it

So yeah

He hates it

On the other hand - man loves how flexible humans are

The first time you flop down onto your bed, assuming a position that would be impossible for any demon or angel to take but is deemed “comfortable” by you, Simeon is enraptured

It’s not sexual, he just thinks it’s really amazing that you have so much control over your body when he can hardly do a standing glute stretch without breaking a limb

It’s almost funny, his fixation

Actually no - it’s not almost funny. It is wholly and completely hilarious, and you will not stop leading him further down this rabbit hole

When you send this man picture of an contortionist, he’s utterly mesmerized

Show him human ballet, and he will not stop watching it

So yeah

He appreciates parts of the human body, hates others - but as long as you never crack your muscles in front of him, he’s down

Also - after you’ve thoroughly interested him in the art of being a human, he may just write about it in his next book. If you read the next set of chronicles detailed by Christopher Peugeot, you already know who the “feisty but good-hearted human who can bend themselves into a pretzel” is based on

(Bonus: Do a body roll in front of him and he might faint - man knew the human body could but like that? You might just have corrupted an angel)

Luke

“So...cool...!”

Boi loves it

He cheers you on like a champ, laughing merrily as you crack your knuckles into oblivion, scaring away the other residents in Purgatory Hall

And no matter how many times Simeon warns him not to urge you on (”The human already has no sense of self-preservation, and you don’t need to help that along,” he said), Luke can’t help but watch with excited eyes as you show him how different the human body is

He’s almost like Levi with his ardent admiration, and he honestly finds nothing disturbing about the sound of you cracking knuckles

Just finds it cool

It actually serves as a catalyst for his relationship with Solomon, because Luke will 100% go up to him and ask him whether he can crack his body like you, and obviously, the man will laugh and prove that centuries of knowledge have made him better than the average human - even in this area

But yeah

You can really see his inner child come out

(Though don’t say that last part out loud - he’ll ignore you for three days in an attempt to be “mature” before you convince him to accept your apology)

But really - he may be the only person who can not only tolerate the quirks of your body, but openly endorses all of them

On the downside, though, he’ll also try to crack his knuckles...which won’t bode too well, given that his body was built to perfection by God

Boi almost rips his finger off

Simeon proceeds to instate a no-cracking-knuckles rule within Purgatory Hall to discourage any further attempts from Luke

But you know what he didn’t ban?

Backflips.

It doesn’t matter if you can or you can’t do them - Luke will happen to see a video of a human doing one (ahem, Solomon showed him it in an attempt to stir up trouble), and now he’s begging you to do the same thing in real life

Which doesn’t work out too well, given that backflips are hard

And you may not be successful 100% of the time

And obviously, Simeon eventually finds out that the two of you have moved onto a new fixation, and so he instate the no-backflips-in-Purgatory-Hall rule

But you know what he didn’t ban? 

Cartwheels.

And so it continues on and on, indefinitely because the only way to cease your and Luke’s shenanigans would be to ban humans in Purgatory Hall, and Solomon is thankfully preventing him from doing that

Barbatos

Hates it, hates it, hates it

More than any of the brothers, more than any of the angels - this man loathes every oddity of the human body that makes it different from a demon’s

But not for the reasons you’d expect

See, it’s not the sound that bothers Barbatos

No, he’s heard the screams of the damned before. You cracking a few measly knuckles hardly makes him flinch as he pours your tea

But what Barbatos does hate is the fact that he doesn’t know what it means

Every single time you crack a knuckle in his presence, it doesn’t matter if the prince himself is speaking, because Barbatos’s eyes will fly straight to you

And yes - you guessed it:

Barbatos can’t tell the difference between the sound of you cracking your knuckles and the sound of you breaking a bone.

And for that reason, he hates it

It’s hardly his fault - he doesn’t even know if there is a difference between the two sounds. But this butler has no faith in you and no faith in humanity as a whole, so every time you crack your knuckles, it sends a rush of worry straight to his stomach, and the demon has to watch you for a solid ten seconds to make sure that you haven’t actually hurt yourself

Poor man

He’s the kind of guy to take everything in stride, so he'll probably never tell you how much he hates it when you crack your knuckles (and honestly, what would he say? “Hi, can you please stop cracking your knuckles because I care about you and it makes me concerned for your health???” No, that’s not going to work. And he doesn't know what will work, so he suffers in silence)

Seeing you stretch is even worse

It can be a casual stretch, simply pulling your arms above your head just slightly beyond what would be physically possible for a normal demon, but it sends a chill to Barbatos’s heart, and he’s worried all over again

See, when you crack your knuckles, at least it’s over. But when you stretch? Sometimes you hold your position for a minute, if not more - and Barbatos simply can’t turn away because he’s terrified that he will, and you’ll somehow hurt yourself

So yeah

No rest for this butler, not as long as you’re going around with that weak body of yours and are cracking and stretching your way into oblivion

On the bright side, it means that he’s almost always watching over you when you visit, an added layer of protection 

The only difference is that while the others are focused on protecting you from other demons, Barbatos is preoccupied with making sure you don’t hurt yourself

Diavolo

Timing is everything

And indeed, you just happen to be in the midst of cracking your knuckles and neck the moment you’re transported to the Devildom, every single one of the most powerful demons in the land staring at you in horror as your body pops some more

"Oh no,” Diavolo whispers, frowning as he looks at Barbatos. “We got a defective human :(”

Nevermind the insult you feel at his words (who does this strange, unfairly-attractive redhead think he is, calling you “defective???” He might be correct in his judgement, but he had no right to voice his thoughts!), you are shook

Definitely not the best first impression for either of you to make

Of course, Lucifer is quick to pick things up with his explanation of what this place is and who he is, and the whole situation is mostly forgotten as you come to realize that you’re standing in front of a literal prince

But the past has a way of resurfacing

And obviously, several months later, you crack your knuckles once more in the presence of the demon lord

The immediate wince on his face is more than enough for you to read his mind

“You’re thinking I’m defective again, aren’t you?”

“YOU REMEMBER THAT?!”

Poor bby

He’s honestly such a brilliant ruler, but when it comes to maneuvering the minds of humans, it’s just not his strong suit

Anyway, the two of you have a long talk (aka you rant and Diavolo listens) where you explain to him that cracking knuckles is a normal phenomenon, and that - look, you can even crack other parts of your body

And the prince is fascinated

He knew humans were built differently than demons, but he’d simply assumed that your body was just as perfect as his, and that yours could simply handle less extreme conditions

Clearly, though, that wasn’t the case

Man decides that, as the ruler of hell and the man spearheading efforts to unite the three realms, it is his moral obligation to learn about the other ways humans differ from demons

And so the shenanigans begin

It’s honestly time-consuming, but Lucifer doesn’t mind because if you’re with Diavolo, you’re out of trouble, and Barbatos doesn’t mind because if Diavolo’s with you, then he’s out of trouble

All in all, it becomes the prelude to a LOT of time spent together, and a LOT of differences between demons and humans come to light. 

Aka various iterations of “What do you mean, humans can’t bite through steel?”

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Colors [Chapter Six] Get Over It [Homelander]

Did Homelander not care what he had done? He opened up a big ass can of worms when he kissed Emery at the inauguration. Not only was he outing her, but he was outing himself too. For fuck's sake. Pictures of the incident were trending on social media, with high ratings, and the comments were insane; some fans were out for blood.

Why her? One commenter had posted. No one even knows her name. She's a nobody.

Hell, someone even posted an image of her in the turquoise dress she wore on their first date.

The comment under it read:

Could she be a victim Homelander saved? Love at first sight.

It was too much too soon.

Emery bounced her leg and sighed. What was she to do? She doubted that the pictures could be removed and as much as she hated depending on Madelyn, perhaps there was something she could do to keep the reporters off her back.

She shut down her computer and left her office, ignoring the curious stares as she marched towards the elevator. At least now Emery knew why so many people were cutting their eyes in her direction as she came into the room. Was it too much to hope that their kiss remain a secret? She wasn't sure why it even mattered.

Once the elevator reached its chosen destination, Emery rushed out of it like a bat out of hell and jogged to Madelyn's office, knocking on the door. As she waited, she tapped her foot, trying to come up with a decent argument as to why she and Homelander – or John – were not suited for one another.

Madelyn's stern voice brought Emery out of her thoughts and she walked in with confidence.

"We need to talk," Emery declared.

Madelyn grinned and motioned for her to sit down, but Emery declined her offer. She had no intention to stay long.

"I don't know what is going on but I have come to a decision," Emery mentioned.

"And that decision is?" Madelyn asked, raising her brow. "Better yet, what are you talking about?

Emery took an uneasy breath.

"Homelander. He and I cannot be in a relationship. Have you seen the media? They are swarming like sharks."

"It's the price to pay, Em, for kissing a Supe in front of a live crowd, especially when that Supe is the Homelander," Madelyn retorted.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Now sit down, so we can sort through whatever is going on with you."

Emery wanted to choke her. But she reckoned she was a bit frantic in her approach. She sat down in the chair in front of Madelyn and took a deep breath.

"Better?" Madelyn asked.

Emery shook her head. Once her sister motioned for her to continue, she did, but clearer.

"I can't like him."

"Why not? Because he is a Supe?" Madelyn asked with a bite. "Or because you are too scared to peruse any type of actual relationship?"

Hearing it come from her mouth made Emery feel bad. She was scared, yes, but having a relationship with a Supe was not a good start.

Madelyn sighed.

"You know, for years I've been trying to show people like you that Superheroes are human too. They were born like you, albeit special, and I imagine dating one sounds scary, because you never know what might happen, but like our brother James says, get over it."

Emery was taken back for a moment. Since when did she quote James? He was a dick. She cleared her throat.

"It's not that. I don't even know how I'd make a relationship work between us," Emery explained.

"With caution," Madelyn replied.

What did that even mean? Emery turned up her eyes and stood up, heading for the door. She wasted her time coming to Madelyn.

"Emery," the said woman called out. Her tone was much lighter.

When Emery turned around she noticed the look of sympathy on her sister's face.

"Did you have fun with John on your first date? I never got to ask," Madelyn brought up.

"He flew me to a barbecue place," Emery mentioned with a soft smile. "I was scared to death, but I liked it."

Madelyn grinned.

"Then don't give up on John just yet. If the kiss was too much, then tell him."

Emery felt strange. This was the first piece of helpful advice that Madelyn had given her. She shook her head and reached for the doorknob, but upon remembering something she peeked back over at Madelyn.

"Have you spoken to James lately?"

"I consult with him sometimes," Madelyn admitted.

Emery didn't know how she felt about that; disappointed perhaps.

Clearing her throat, she left.

Later, once she returned to her apartment, Emery opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, then sat down on her couch with her laptop. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and then sent a video chat notice to Homelander. She wasn't sure what time he went to bed, or whether he was home, but a green dot near his name indicated that he was logged on.

Once he appeared on the screen, she couldn't help but smile.

"Emery? What a surprise."

The said woman cleared her throat.

"I'm happy you answered. There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Of course," Homelander said with a smile.

Emery took a deep breath. Where to start?

"I saw the pictures online."

"Too soon?" Homelander asked.

Emery nodded.

"Your fan base is vicious."

"It can be, but hey, they love me. And that kiss booted me two entire points," he explained.

Emery was taken back. Her stomach twisted in knots. Picking up her glass, she took a drink.

"So, you kissed me for the ratings."

Her teasing tone cracked a bit.

"I kissed you because I thought our relationship was going somewhere," Homelander answered.

His eyes widened and he laughed.

"Did you honestly think I kissed you because I wanted a 97 approval rate? I can get that on my own."

Emery was relieved.

"You didn't like it much, did you?" Homelander asked. "I mean, you barely reacted, other than to storm off stage."

"It wasn't that I didn't like it, because I did, but you took me by surprise," Emery answered.

She took another drink.

"I overreacted about it and all day I've been teetering back and forth on what it meant to me and honestly I still don't know. But I'm not mad at you, John."

"Do you want to continue this?" Homelander asked.

Oh God yes.

"Slowly," Emery replied with a nod.

She was going to take Madelyn's advice - for once - and give John a chance.

"The press is going to ask me about it since we've been seen together twice," Homelander brought up.

Emery hummed. She imagined so. But she'd just have to get over it.

"Can you tell them that it's open for debate?"

Homelander nodded. He was as Emery had imagined; a sweetheart.

"Thank you, John. I swear I'll make it up to you," she declared.

"I do not doubt that you will. But when?"

Emery thought about it for a moment. She was busy throughout the week with promotion; the Deep had another photo shoot for something and both Maeve and the Emerald Beetle were scheduled for meetings with her and Madelyn.

"I'm free this weekend. We can get together if you have time," she mentioned.

"For you, always," Homelander stated.

Emery grinned and blew him a kiss before wishing him a good night. When she ended the call, she downed the glass of wine and leaned back her head.

"I'm an idiot," she uttered with a laugh.

Madelyn would be proud of her. But would James? Emery took an uneasy breath.

No, I don't suppose he would. 

She was a black sheep after all. 

[court-of-forever-undone]

I Knew You’d Come Back to Me

Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)

Summary:  While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence. 

Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude. 

**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**

Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August

Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Four Months Post Exile

If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.

I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.

There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.

Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.

Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.

I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.

She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.

In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.

Present Day

What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.

Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.

“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.

I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.

I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.

Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.

If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.

I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.

Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --

Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.

At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.

“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.

“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.

At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.

“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”

His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.

“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.

“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.

“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”

Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.

Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?

I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.

We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.

“Where is she?”

I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.

“Move Livier,” I demand.

How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?

“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

I stop dead at her words.

Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”

The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”

I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”

Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.

She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.

Livier looks at her companion with unease.

“Why?” I demand again.

The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”

My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.

I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.

I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.

As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.

She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.

****

After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.

The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.

The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.

There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.

I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.

Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.

As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.

I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.

I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.

My Jude.

I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.

The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.

My heart-stopping queen.

I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.

“Welcome home, Jude.”

Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.

It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.

I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.

It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.

“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.

“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.

Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.

Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.

“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.

“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.

“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.

I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.

“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”

My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?

“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?

Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”

I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”

I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.

“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”

Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.

Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.

“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”

Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.

“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”

I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.

Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”

It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.

“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.

Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."

I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.

“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”

Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces​ 

If anyone else would like to join the list, let me know! 

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hi I’m here to review the Clementine comic. it’s not good.

Does this even need an introduction? You know why I’ve gathered you all here today. You know the comic exists, and you probably know that it’s not great and we’re all upset about it. 

Myself included. I am not okay. At all. 

Skybound could’ve literally spit in my face and I’d come out feeling better than I did reading this comic, because this comic is an insult to the original Telltale games and Clementine as a character. 

This comic is a fancy fanfic. Glorified fanfiction. It’s not canon, and Skybound and Tillie can pretend that it is, but it’s not. Bold of them to assume we’d just accept this from people who didn’t work on the original games and never wrote for Clementine before, and based on this comic alone, any chance of us taking it seriously is gone. 

I’m gonna go through every single page, every panel, of this comic and give you my review. So I guess if you’re worried about spoilers [though at this point why would you?] then be warned, spoilers for the entire comic ahead. 

I also wanna add that I have nothing against Tillie Walden. I know a lot of dingdongs are harassing her on insta over this comic and that’s not okay. You telling her how much you hate her isn’t going to change anything. If anything, you keep being assholes to her and she’s just gonna block everything out, even things simply critiquing her work in hopes that it helps her improve. 

You’re allowed to be upset about the comic and share your feelings about it, but don’t take it out on the actual human being like that. Besides, like I’ve said before, if Tillie wasn’t gonna make the comic, Skybound would’ve found someone else to do. This was coming no matter what because Skybound wants that coin. 

That being said, I’m not going to hold back my opinions on this comic. Skybound and Tillie made this comic, they put it out there and asked for money for it, therefore I’m allowed to explain why it’s garbage as well as ponder over the questionable intent and whether or not Tillie actually has played these games. Y’know, it’s like how I have nothing against Kent, but sometimes he says things I disagree with and well, y’know how it goes. 

Alright, this is gonna be long, so let’s go--

The first few shots we get are of the school, two people sleeping, and Clementine’s empty bed. Nothing super note-worthy, we have no idea who is sleeping in the beds, it’s just there to establish that it’s early and everyone’s still asleep. 

The drawing of the school looks fine? Not super accurate, but I can give it a pass since it’s a few years later, I assume. What I can’t give a pass is how you managed to already mess up on the first page of your comic. 

Because..... why are you implying that Clementine’s room is upstairs? First of all, seems kinda dumb to put Clem, who has only one leg and has to walk with crutches, upstairs. Also, if you’ve played TFS and paid any attention to where her room is actually located [the dorms] then you’d know there isn’t any stairs leading to their floor. It’s the side building next to the admin building, you walk through the door, go down the hall, take a left and their dorm is right there sooo..... 

Oh right, it’s probably done this way so that we can have such a suspenseful moment where Clementine is sneaking out while the others are asleep and her foot makes a creeeeeeakk that could wake everyone up, thwarting her plans of abandoning everyone quietly so she doesn’t have to deal with any consequences. 

Because yeah, Clementine is sneaking out with all of her supplies because apparently, she’s been planning an escape from this place for a while. 

And just look at how gosh darn happy she is about it. You can’t see or hear me, but know that I’m laughing. Don’t worry, I will talk about her abandoning everyone later.

But first, I have a gripe with Clementine's design in this comic. It doesn’t look like her. This art of her right here is the most accurate we get throughout all 12 pages, and it’s the best looking, too. 

Moving on, she slams the door shut while this walker changes faces and hair between panels, so that’s cool. I will say, I like the idea of the Ericson crew putting spikes on the door. That’s fun. 

Though Clementine slamming the door shut while trying to sneak out seems counter productive but it fits with the theme this comic has of inconsistency, so it works. 

Next we have Clementine going to what I believe is the fishing shack by the river, and she’s going through some things that she’s stashed away, telling us that she’s been planning this escape for a while. 

Oh good, she has a map. Well at least now she won’t get lost out there in the woods while she makes her escape... also that last panel with her profile.... why does it look so funny? Like this page of the comic doesn’t look too bad, but there is something off putting about her eye there and how she has zero expression. 

And it turns out that rustle was a walker, and Clementine is super inconvenienced by this and gives us our first piece of witty dialogue.

Yeah you dumb walker, can’t you see Clementine is busy running away from home and abandoning all of her loved ones without a single goodbye so she doesn’t have to witness the consequences of her selfish actions?? Gosh, so rude.

Just a heads up, the dialogue in this comic is stilted, emotionless, and bland. The words have no flow, no charm, and never feel like they should be coming out of Clementine’s mouth. Then again, the upcoming graphic novels this is tied to are for young adult/middle graders so I guess we have to dumb everything down so their baby brains can process it. 

.....Why does her face look like that? Also, interesting that she decided to move her ponytail to the other side of her head.... which is a thing that happens throughout this comic, her hair will randomly change sides. 

I believe it’s a metaphor for her changing and inconsistent personality. 

So yeah, Clementine is just making off with the supplies she gathered [I’m sure Ericson doesn’t need ‘em anyway] and she’s just so gosh darn annoyed at all these small inconveniences bothering her.... because it’s just too early for this. 

.....Again, why does her face look like that?

I’m sorry, like I get it, Tillie’s style is supposed to be purposely messy yet minimal but it doesn’t work. When you do a comic in a more messy style, usually it has charm and heart put into it. Effort goes into the messy look, and when things are minimal, that usually means more clean, yeah? So you put them together and just..... that is nothing resembling Clementine’s face. 

Can we just--

Look at canon Clementine’s face. Look at the way her eyebrows are shapes, how wide her eyes are with her eye lashes. The dirt on her skin, the lines-- there is so much personality in her features. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a neutral expression or she’s expressing anger or joy or sorrow or whatever. 

Now, is it fair to compare a model of Clem from the games to the Clem in this comic? Well, I assume that if Tillie is doing this comic, she would use references from the game to ensure that Clementine is recognizable, especially now that she’s no longer wearing her signature hat. 

So why does she look like this? Why do I look at these drawings of her face and see nothing but a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth? You might as well draw me a simple smiley face. And I get that it’s a comic, and it’s a lot of work to draw the same character over and over again and you gotta cut corners somewhere, but maybe put some effort into the close up shots of her face so that we can actually see it’s her? 

Other fan artists have made comics in their styles that shine bright with Clementine’s personality, so what happened here? 

Anyway, surprise..... it’s not a walker annoying Clementine. 

........Why does AJ look like that??? I’m sorry, I hate to do the same thing I just did but--

Just because you put Clementine’s hat on AJ that doesn’t automatically make it him. I just.... wow. This feels like there wasn’t a single reference involved, like if someone gave Tillie a basic description of AJ and she just did this. 

But appearances aside, what is AJ saying? He says that he knew it, that Clementine’s leaving and I cannot stand this dialogue. It’s unnatural. Again, I know you wanna dumb it down for all of us because I guess we dumb.... but this conversation does not feel natural. 

“I knew it. You’re leaving.” “AJ....” “I’m coming.”

Even if you changed it to, “I’m coming with you.” it would sound more natural. Hell, he doesn’t even question WHY she’s leaving, he just stands there like “I’m coming” like??? I’m sorry, have you ever heard a single word this murder baby has said? I assume you have because I assume you actually played TFS, right? Soooo.... what happened here?

.....whY DO THEIR FACES LOOK LIEK THAT KSAJDLKJAS:LKDJLKASJD:L--

So now we’re getting into it.... into the bullshit. 

Clementine tells AJ to go back to the school, and AJ says that she wasn’t even going to say goodbye..... and then more bad dialogue that sound unnatural when you try to fucking read it. 

First off.... AJ’s reaction to Clementine attempting to leave is barely anything. Again, I hate to keep questioning if you actually played TFS, but AJ would throw a fucking fit if he caught Clementine out here ALONE like this, attempting to leave. 

And then he says “Like last time? You were going to come back?” this sentence makes my brain hurt. I just.... “Like last time, right? You’re coming back?” UGH

Wow, I feel nothing. 

I’m sitting here watching these two imposters with fucked up faces who are supposed to be Clementine and AJ and I feel nothing. 

I’m not even going to comment on the faces anymore. You can see it. You know. 

So yeah... AJ tells her the #1 rule, and reminds her that she promised.

Y’know.... she promised that she would never leave him again? Remember? At the McCarroll ranch? That flashback that was in TFS? The one you would watch if you played the game? 

Why is she looking straight at me when she should be looking at AJ as she says this? Is this Clementine’s way of telling me she’s sorry for what a shitty direction this is taking? I wouldn’t know because her face isn’t doing anything. Just because you draw a couple of tears that doesn’t mean I’m feeling the emotional heartbreak you’re attempting to convey. 

I don’t have enough middle fingers for this.

Well, my hat’s off to you. Ya did it. Ya fucked up everything single part of Clementine’s character in the span of two pages, I’m almost impressed. 

First off, the baby thing is weird. Why is she calling him that? She’s never called him that, which you should know.

Second, she’s not happy and that’s why she’s leaving. Clementine isn’t happy, and AJ can’t make her happy. Ericson can’t make her happy. So she’s going to go out on the road to.... what, be unhappy by herself? 

I’m sorry, but apparently we need a few reminders here of who Clementine is, because this isn’t her. 

This is Clementine. 

Clementine fought for years to find a home, something she hasn’t had since she was an eight-year-old girl before the apocalypse. The motor-inn wasn’t a home, the cabin wasn’t home, the ski-lodge, Howe’s, Wellington, Richmond, Prescott, none of them were home. 

She struggled for years, dealing with trauma after trauma while out on the road. She went from group to group, watching people she cared about die and she was powerless to do anything about it. Whenever she let her guard down and become comfortable, it bit in her in the ass and left her heartbroken.

She was there when AJ was born. She grew close to Rebecca while she was pregnant, she let herself do that even after everything she went through with Christa. Clementine had a bond with AJ even before he was born, and after Rebecca died, she did what she could to keep him safe, despite play choice. 

She cried when she thought AJ died and when she found him in that car again. She swore to protect him, to raise him right and love him. All they had was each other. 

And when she joined the new frontier and AJ got sick, she risked everything to save him and she was devastated when they took him away from her. When she found out he was alive, she is willing to go as far as helping Lingard overdose [INJECTING HIM HERSELF IF SHE HAS TO] to figure out his location. She did shitty things to find him, she killed people at McCarroll Ranch to find him again. 

Clementine raised him and he is her family, do you understand that? She went to hell and back for him, she taught him how to protect himself, and even though she made mistakes she sacrificed everything for him. She promised him that they would have a home of their own one day, she talked about how much she wished for a world where she didn’t have to worry about fighting and killing and AJ could just be a happy kid. 

She fought for Ericson, she watched her friends die or become mutilated by someone from her past. She allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to pursue a romantic relationship with Louis or Violet because she felt safe with them, felt safe at Ericson because it’s their home now. 

And when Clementine was bit, she thought she was going to die but she still fought to make sure AJ would be safe and happy without her and it was heartbreaking. She’s dying and the only thing she cares about is AJ. Not herself, not what’s going to happen to her after she dies or turns... no, she tries to make AJ smile again, she makes sure he remembers the rules, and she tells him that she loves him. 

Then he cuts off her leg, and she survives. AJ saved her fucking life, and she got to wake up at home and live to see her family again. She got to push AJ on a tire swing, she got to eat a hot meal and laugh with her friends, she got to make plans with her lover/best friend for what’s next for Ericson, and she got to talk to AJ and tell him the truth... and she asked him if she did a good job, and he’s honest with her right back. 

Hell, she tells him to keep her hat. Her iconic hat. The one thing she has left of her father, possibly her more cherished item. She lets him keep it. 

The last time we see Clementine, she’s happy. She’s sitting on the steps by herself, staring at her family with such fondness in her eyes and a smile on her face because she finally did it. She finally found a home where she can breathe. She has a bed to sleep in, she has AJ with her, she has a boyfriend/girlfriend who loves her and who she loves back, she has friends she can rely on. 

Clementine smiles, and lets out a small laugh. 

She doesn’t have to run anymore. 

And now you have the balls to tell me that AJ and Ericson don’t make Clementine happy anymore. 

She abandons everything to go back out on the road again, and that’s proof enough for me that you don’t understand a damn thing about Clementine or her journey. 

“ I don't even know the person I'm talking about... It's like all we have in common is the same name.” 

....Anyway.

Wow, Clementine found a car and kept is stashed. How lazy and convenient for this bullshit plot. 

And this is the part where I have to tell this comic to fuck off. 

What, you think if you throw in an incredibly inaccurate flashback next to a current pair of hugging Clem and AJ that I’ll feel anything but anger? That flashback is a slap to the face. It’s snowing, but the only time we’ve seen snow is in S2 when AJ was a literal new born, so why is he that big? Is that supposed to be from ANF because that ALSO doesn’t look like that AJ, and that’s not the outfit Clementine had on... AND there was no snow. This is cheap and meaningless. 

Any fan of the series who has played through the games could tell you this. 

So.... AJ runs into the woods and then we get this garbage.

This comic is awful. It misses the point of everything TFS, and the rest of the series, stood for. There is no heart here. I feel no happiness in reading it, and I don’t detect any passion behind it. It’s a lifeless comic that retcons everything in order to throw AJ away and start fresh with a new adventure for Clementine that makes no sense because the cow isn’t profitable unless it’s milked. 

This isn’t canon, and it won’t ever be canon, and honestly? At this point, I have no faith in the graphic novel trilogy. It will take a lot to do a turn around from this, and I don’t even know if that’s possible. 

Again, to reiterate, I don’t have anything personal against Tillie Walden herself. She’s just doing her job, and from what I’ve seen of her as a person, she seems like a sweetheart. I don’t want anyone giving her shit because I think the comic isn’t good or that you agree with me. All of my anger is directed at the comic itself, her work, not specifically her.... and a little bit at Skybound, because they’re the reason this is even a thing in the first place. 

So yeah.... there ya have it. 

[demonicheadcanons]

The Obey Me Brothers Reaction to MC Breaking Down Over Schoolwork

(Initial ask contains an ableist slur and so cannot be posted. Please, in future, refrain from using slurs in any asks sent in!! It has since been added to my rules and I will straight up delete asks with slurs in them. Thank you <3)

AN: Apologies for taking so long to get to this one, its been in my inbox for a while. I’m sorry you were feeling that way, its really difficult getting adjusted to everything again, I work in a school and a lot of the students and teachers alike are definitely really struggling. Best wishes <3

I think I’m usually okay at not letting slip that Levi is my favourite boy, but you can tell here ;u; Sorry

Lucifer

He realises all too late that things are probably tough. Initially Lucifer is distant, and whilst he notices how tired you look sometimes at RAD, he decides to ignore it - you were probably distressed because you had been pulled into the Devildom out of nowhere, you’d just have to adapt because nothing else could be done. In his mind it was pointless worrying about it.

However, as he begins to pay more and more attention to you, he realises its more than that. You frown in class, your grades jump around and you don’t leave your room regularly, probably too busy focusing on studying. The few times you’ve accepted his offer of help, you seem to be on edge.

He decides one night to check in on you, and he hears a harsh thud from a few paces down the hall. He throws the door open without knocking, convincing himself that he was just worried you might be hurt because they needed you for the exchange programme and it would be a pain replacing you now, months into the whole endeavour.

You whirl around, arm still raised, your grip tight on your textbook. He looks about and sees other books scattered about, the room a mess.

Lucifer makes a low growling noise in the back of his throat, raising a hand to press against his temples before he freezes, finally taking in the look on your face. Your eyes are wide, having been essentially caught by the one person you really, really wouldn’t want to see you right now. You lower your arm slowly as he approaches, taking your face in his hands before you can duck away from him.

His tone and expression are impossible to place as he silently examines you, gloved hands wiping across your cheeks to get rid of any traces of your tears. You don’t have the time to process any of it before he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms carefully around your shoulders.

Lucifer is silent, almost eerily so, and he holds you there without moving until you either push him away or until you stop sniffling and drop the book. Even when he does speak again, he’s quiet, deep in thought as he looks around the room and tells you simply to head over to his - he’ll bring you something to eat shortly, get some rest in the meantime. You mumble something about a test, and he waves a hand. He’ll bring the textbook, its fine, go rest.

It takes him a half hour to get to his room, carrying a tray with some tea and snacks. Your textbook is tucked under one arm, and he gently invites you to eat before he starts talking things out. He asks if classes are too difficult, asks if there’s anything in particular you’re struggling with. He makes a lot of offers - Luci is a busy guy, but he can free up a time slot if you want to study with him, or he can get you a tutor, or you can simply text him your concerns and he’ll respond as soon as he’s available. His advice is simple and realistic.

Once you’re done eating and drinking, he opens the textbook and goes over the things that are most likely to be on the test. He gives tips, explains the things that confuse you in a clear and concise manner. He’s a good teacher, and he’s a lot more patient than you’ve seen him before.

Overall, Lucifer is a quiet comfort, but a determined one. He works to make things easier for you in the background, marking out important parts of the textbook so you know what to focus on, and offering a hand whenever you need it. Also, when you get back to your room later, your books are neatly organised on your desk.

[Other brothers under the read more]

Mammon

Mammon randomly pops into your room quite often, making excuses about how he’s absolutely entitled to because he’s in charge of taking care of you. On this particular evening, you have absolutely no warning as per usual and he doesn’t bother knocking, because this boy only has good manners when it benefits him.

He freezes instantly, and he’s over to you in a second before you can throw whatever’s in your hand. His grip is careful but tight on your wrist and he squeezes until you let it go, tossing whatever it was onto your bed without looking and wrapping you up in his arms. You might feel trapped for a second, but he has this fear that you’re Going To Get Hurt and so he just holds onto you until you settle and start sobbing against his chest. (Mammon is panicking too much to think about it, and he’ll definitely apologise after and try not to do it again if he scared you.)

He pulls you over to the bed and sits you down, a hand smoothing through your hair. His grip remains on you at all times, and you can feel his hands shaking when he asks what’s wrong, MC? Did something happen?

Mammon listens carefully, swallowing and smoothing a hand over your hair when you tell him its because the work here is just too damn hard and you can’t do it, you can’t, you can’t remember all the dates for the history or recall the right Latin to say for this one course and its not like it matters anyway because you’re human, why would you need this?

He mumbles back “I know, I know,” and runs his hands down your arms, back, along your hair. Wherever he can to comfort you, wherever makes your breathing slow back to a normal pace and takes away the hiccups left from sobbing. He doesn’t force you to look at him, almost doesn’t want you to as he bites back sniffles and sobs and wipes his face against his sleeve because crying right now won’t fix anything for you.

When you’re both calmer again, he starts rambling about something or other to take your mind off it. Mammon isn’t one to offer any immediate solutions, and rather tries to distract you with stories until you fall asleep and he can lay you down and march straight to Lucifer and demand he talk to Diavolo about this, as fearless as if he were defending Belphie or Levi for accidentally breaking something.

You’re assigned a tutor, and have tutoring sessions with each of the brothers for things they’re good at, with Lucifer and Satan covering any areas the others don’t particularly excel in. Mammon himself helps you with maths, and although he isn’t always the best at explaining it, his presence along is comforting and helps makes working through a little easier, and he’s good for taking your mind away from any stress so that you can focus without worry holding you back.

Leviathan

He had just wanted to get something back that he loaned you, a book or DVD. He can’t remember what it was the second he hears a crash and throws open your door, and finds you in a ball on the floor, the room a mess around you. You don’t even look up as the door opens, and the two of you stay in place for a few moments.

Levi doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know where to start, but he can do one thing. Quietly and carefully, he tiptoes around your room and starts putting things back where they belong. He tidies your desk, faintly organises whatever notes he finds by subject and piles them up together. He doesn’t touch you, because he’s worried you wouldn’t want him to right now, that he might scare you, and so he just tidies until the room looks a little more normal again.

When you finally look up, he’s sitting a few feet in front of you, headphones on as he stares at his D.D.D., either playing a game or watching a video or scrolling through Wikis as he waits patiently for you to start the conversation or ask for whatever comforts you need. You move over to sit beside him, and he blushes but takes off his headphones and holds an arm out so you can rest against his shoulder.

He lets you watch whatever is on his phone for a beat before asking in a hushed voice if you need anything, if something was wrong, or if someone (maybe him?) upset you. When you tell him it’s about schoolwork, he sighs and pulls you closer without thinking about it. He hands you his D.D.D. and puts his headphones on you, tells you to stay there for a bit and keep watching until he gets back.

Levi returns a few minutes later with Satan in tow, each of them carrying a bag with their own textbooks in them. Levi kneels down to take back his D.D.D. and headphones and to help you up, and tells you you’re all going to start studying together in the library. If you’d be okay with it, he means... he could use the help too, and maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if you were there. Not for any reason in particular!

Study sessions are added to your schedule after that. Even on days where Satan is off doing something else, Levi will tutor you on whatever he finds easiest - usually history, and oftentimes its history involving the navy. His shyness melts away into confidence as he talks about all the things he’s done, about how he was appointed head thousands of years ago and he thinks he’s yet to let Diavolo down.

After study sessions you go and get a drink together, something like bubble tea or smoothies or whatever, and then play games together to relax and let the info sink in instead of obsessing over it. If you ever start to get stressed out again, Levi gently puts his headphones on you and the two of you wait it out together, and he smiles at you every time you take the headphones off and take a deep breath, ready to keep working. He’s proud.

Satan

Satan is observant enough to notice ahead of time that something is about to happen. You seem horribly stressed and unfocused in your classes one day in particular, and he decides to stop by your room the second he gets home to find out what was wrong.

He knocks and waits for a while, but you don’t answer, and he was sure he heard noise before but now your room is deathly silent. He carefully creaks the door open a bit to call in and see if you’re there, and hears paper crumpling against the door. Deciding to investigate, he opens it a little more and slides in through the gap.

The room is a mess of books and paper and pillows, and you’re at your desk, hands clamped hard over your ears. You’re making some kind of whimpering noise every now and then, and Satan starts to piece things together as he gathers up books in one arm and smooths out paper. He taps you on the back before moving back a pace or two, just in case.

You freeze before turning around to look at him, seeming almost guilty, and he doesn’t really get why you’d feel that way but he holds up your books and clears his throat. “Do you want some help?”

Satan is more practical than emotional and, whilst he isn’t sure what kind of comfort he can offer you right now, he knows he can help with the work, help make it easier. He pulls a chair over beside you, motioning for you to scoot over, and leans against you as he opens the first book and asks where you were struggling. He keeps a constant connection between the two of you, either has his leg against yours or his entire side against you so that you know he’s there, so that you’re permanently aware of his presence.

He doesn’t look at you too often, not when you can see him do it. Even then, there’s no judgement in his gaze, just his brows furrowing slightly out of concern until your breathing in alright and you start to smile in little bursts again. He smiles then as well, scribbling down some notes for you.

After that, Satan regularly pulls you aside after class and asks if you want to come out with him to a cafe or to the library, or he’ll call you to his room in the house and ask if you’ll let him teach you this set of notes so that he can remember it better. He’s subtle, never really brings up what happened and never asks you about it because he’s already got it all figured out in his mind. Instead, he just works on moving on from it and making sure it doesn’t happen again, and if it does, he’ll be ready to be there for you again.

Asmodeus

Asmo had decided to visit your room because you weren’t responding to his messages asking if you wanted to go out shopping with him. Majolish had new season wear and he absolutely needed to go get first pickings at it, and he wanted you there by his side.

He knocks but opens your door immediately after anyway, not giving you time to do much more than turn to face the door, bringing the pillow you were about to throw up over your face instead so he can’t read too much of your expression. He sees the tears, anyway, and without thinking walks over to you and holds your face in his hands.

His voice is laced with concern as he asks what’s wrong, and he immediately looks like he’s going to cry as well, but he just did his makeup and he’s not going to risk ruining it right now. Instead he moves over to the bed and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tight against his chest. He keeps asking, every few moments, if something was wrong and if there’s anything he can do, and his eyes dart around the room to try to piece it all together. Your books were still out on your desk, pillows a mess around the room, and you... You were curled up against him, shaking and choking down sobs.

Asmo pouts and holds you in silence until you calm down and start talking to him, start telling him what was wrong, what subject you’d been struggling with over the past hour and you were still stuck on the same damn page and not making any progress and the test was only a few days away and everyone was expecting so much from you, you who never even asked to be here. Obviously you weren’t good enough for this, obviously they should’ve chosen someone better-

Asmo cuts you off there, pushes against your shoulders until he can see your expression and cup your face in his hands. He’s not having you put yourself down because you’re struggling with work that the centuries-old demons also had a hard time with, not on his watch, and he tells you just as much. When he’s done half-scolding you, his expression softens and he offers whatever help he can. He’s sure he can rope Satan or Lucifer into helping out, and if not he can charm the examiners into giving you a better score... he keeps going until some of his silly advice gets you to snort out a little laugh, and then he relaxes.

He lays back and pulls you down with him, sighing as he instructs you to take a nap, and then after you two can go out shopping and you’ll figure everything out as you strip Majolish bare of its new wonderful outfits. And Asmo keeps to his word. As you’re trying things on he talks through the stall walls, proposing different ideas to you whilst simultaneously boosting your confidence as he compliments you and finds the perfect outfits for you.

Asmo makes it clear that if ever you should need a distraction, just give him a call - there’s always something better to do than reading over textbooks, and he’ll throw in study sessions so long as you’re there to spend time with him. Anything to make you feel better.

Beelzebub

Beel was in the kitchen, clearing out the fridge as usual when he heard a muffled thud against the wall. He pauses, turning to look in that direction, and realises that its the wall attached to your room.

He’s outside your door in no time, and taps nervously against it with his fingertips before opening the door slightly and calling in to ask if you were okay, and could he come in please? He hesitates when you don’t respond, but decides to head in anyway, because you might be hurt and any embarrassments he’s sure the two of you could live with, but with an injury there was no guarantee, not for a human.

There are books everywhere, the room as messy as he’s ever seen it, and you’re... nowhere to be seen. Not until he hears a sniffle and rounds the corner into the dining room section, and finds you curled up in a ball against the wall, face against your knees. He’s quick to back away, worried that he’ll upset you more, but then Beel kneels down a few paces in front of you and leans forward to tap your arm.

You flinch and look up immediately, pulling your knees closer to your chest until you realise its him, and then you just look guilty. Beel’s chest hurts, he feels horrible - what happened to make you feel like this? Could he help, or should he go get someone else? He asks just as much, voice somewhat broken over the questions as he hesitates. He doesn’t get this anxious often, but right now you remind him of Belphie a few thousand years ago, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

He pushes the thought away and slides closer, sitting against the wall beside you. His presence might not help, and he waits for you to tell him to leave, but after a while you press against his side and he opens his arms to you and holds you as tight as he can until you feel a little bit okay again. And then he asks, again, what’s wrong, and he waits for you to tell him, shaking but as patient as can be. You open up to him slowly, and he listens.

Beel doesn’t know how to help, doesn’t think he’d be a good tutor for you, doesn’t know how to relieve the stress really. But, he promises his arms are always there if you want a warm hug, and... he is sure that there is some resolution to be found, but for now you should just do your best and that’s all anyone could expect from you, and if anyone doesn’t like that then... he’ll be your bodyguard, ready to defend you at any moment. He was good at that, sometimes.

Beel smiles at you and gives you the warmest smile he can manage before tucking your head back against his shoulder or chest. He tells you to rest for a little while, and then you can try working again later. Whilst you’re asleep, he pulls out his D.D.D. and messages Belphie asking for advice, and then Lucifer. By the time you wake up, he’s got a few tips from the brothers and a tutoring timetable is being organised by Lucifer for the two of you, so that you wouldn’t be alone.

Belphegor

Belphie doesn’t know why he was on his way to your room, and he stops thinking about it the second he throws the door open and sees you crying. He’s too tired to put the pieces together as he looks around, too tired to really take in the room, but he’s on high alert when he runs over and wraps you in his arms, looking around properly to see if anyone was there, if anyone had hurt you.

You can hear him growling in the back of his throat until he slowly relaxes, shoulders lowering as he takes in how messy your room is. It must’ve been you, he decides, holding you closer to him. A demon would’ve left this place in a horrible state. But nothing was torn, just scattered around.

He’s more awake when he pulls you over to the bed and immediately lays down with you on his chest. He doesn’t get what’s wrong yet, but he’ll figure it out. He wills his powers, his sin’s influence, over you until you’re drowsy and fall asleep, still sniffling occasionally, and then he starts to work things out.

By the time you wake up, Belphie apologises for how disorientated you might feel. He probably should’ve talked to you first before making you fall asleep. He smiles sheepishly at you, but the concern in his eyes is only thinly veiled, and you can see through to it.

“So, school, huh?” he asks, lopsided smile almost teasing. He wants to make you smile, or laugh if he’s lucky. Instead you make a frustrated noise and press your face into his chest again, and he pats your head to comfort you. You hear him swallow before he pushes against your shoulders to get you to look at him again.

He’s not hiding so much when he asks what’s wrong, and he listens as you stumble through an explanation before sighing and asking if you want to take another nap. He grins when you glare at him, before adjusting you both so you’re sitting up again. “Let’s get to work, then. What subject is first?”

Belphie isn’t the best at a lot of the work, and he’s missed a lot of classes, but he’s a decent help and he keeps your stress down by cracking jokes and patting your head when you do well. He’s a comforting presence, and if you get overwhelmed again he leans his elbows against the desk, head in hands, and suggests you take another nap with him because he could really use one right now. He laughs when you swat at him and tell him to focus, and then looks at you and tells you that you can come to him if you need help, anytime. Don’t wake him up if he’s deep asleep, though - get Mammon or someone stupid to do that, he jokes, just in case he lashes out.

In future, Belphie will tap on your door when he knows you’re studying and, although he often falls asleep at your desk or just immediately heads over to your bed to nap, he gives off a comforting aura that makes the work a bit bearable for longer.