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mageofseven · 3 years

Note

(´・ω|—|—|—|

hewoo.. its me, shy blob..

May I request how the demon bros react to Simeon and MC's secret relationship?

(///▽///) if its too much, I'm sorry!

m(_ _)m forgive meee

Aww hello shy blob! I'm actually planning to include such a scene in my Simeon section of MC's Pregnancy and Birth. However, I guess I can make a non pregnancy version of this too~

I hope you like it 🥰

The couple's relationship was discovered by little Luke. Despite making him promise to keep it a secret, the little boy accidentally made it slip one day and now the brothers know MC and the angel are dating.

Lucifer:

Laughs somewhat bitterly and without humor.

If there was any doubt MC descended from Lilith, that doubt would now be erased.

His sister, an angel, risked everything to be with a human despite every unspoken rule in the three realms telling her that she shouldn't.

Now MC, a human, has fallen in love with Simeon of all people?

Did they truly realize all they were risking? Surely they must know somewhat since they tried to hide it for who knows how long but still.

Lucifer feels a sense of...well, as if history was repeating itself in a way and his worry for MC was immeasurable.

Lectures the couple fervently

But upon hearing MC's pleas and how they talk about their love for Simeon, the oldest had a flashback to the day he discovered Lilith's interest in her human and how he originally treated her...

Lucifer didn't want to make that same mistake twice, but there was confusion with in him about what truly was the mistake: trying to separate Lilith from the human originally or giving in so soon afterwards?

He didn't know, but as he looked into MC's eyes, he could practically hear his sister begging too, telling him to help them in some way.

The Avatar of Pride sighed. He didn't know what to do for them if word got back to the Celestial realm about them. Simeon would undoubtedly be punished and the two would be split up, but what if his Father wanted to punish MC too? What then?

Their relationship could fracture the delicate political progress Lord Diavolo has made towards peace.

Tells MC he will look into some things to see if something can be done for the both of them

And eventually has a private talk with the angel, wanting to hear from him that this is all real and that Simeon is not playing some cruel game with the human.

Upon hearing the man's struggles, about how hard he fought to keep MC at arms length, but failed and fell so hard for them, the demon pursed his lips.

For now, Lucifer tells the angel keep it from others and make sure Luke doesn't spread the news farther than he already has.

The less that know, the more time a plan can be made.

Overall, Lucifer is frustrated by the news but somewhat sympathetic.

Mammon:

Real jealous, ngl

I mean, he's their first! Why the hell does Simeon get to date them?

All of that aside, the second brother is worried for MC though.

I mean, yeah, technically Lilith got her happy ending, but just barely. Like, it literally took a miracle by Lord Diavolo to salvage things from the tragedy that almost happened to her.

So what's stopping things from turning to tragedy for MC and Simeon?

Complains a lot to MC about how he should be their man, but in truth, just doesn't want the human to get hurt.

Leviathan:

Hides away in his room in self pity

Because of course MC would rather be with an angel like Simeon instead of a yucky otaku like him.

It's not until after he's been sulking in his room for two days that MC's situation fully sinks in.

Are...are they really gonna be okay? At best, Simeon might get punished and taken from them. At worst...the third brother didn't wanna think about it.

Suddenly feels like such a dick for making this about himself.

He really wants to help his Henry...but doesn't feel like there's anything he can do for them.

Satan:

Is immediately bitter upon hearing the news but is curious.

How long has this relationship been going on?

He's honestly surprised that they were able to keep this from him and his brothers this whole time.

He doesn't really see himself as an expect on Angelic culture; after all, a lot of the Celestial realm's inner workings are kept a secret to most. Many things you simply cannot read within books.

However, he knows enough about what happened to Lilith to know that this news is...concerning.

The Celestial realm is strict with their angels and won't be happy to hear that Simeon has fallen in love with a human.

This...he'll have to discuss with his brothers on how to keep MC safe if things turn dangerous for the couple.

It honestly seems inevitable that this will end in heartbreak for the human, but if they can at least keep them safe physically, that's something.

Asmodeus:

"Oh. My. Devil. Why didn't you two tell me??"

Hugs the two and tells them how cute they are together.

Asks a million questions.

When did they start dating? How serious is it? Who asked who out? Describe the moment!

Don't get him wrong though; he does understand how serious this is because of what Lilith went through.

Unlike his brothers though, believes that things might end up okay. I mean, surely this situation is different enough from before that the two could have a happy ending?

While his brothers are waiting tensely for the situation to blow up in the couple's faces, Asmo is keeping his eyes on all the good that can come from this.

The Avatar of Lust just wants to the two to be happy.

Let's his brothers prepare for dooms day or whatever; Azzy would rather be positive and remind the two that even when things look dark that their love for each other is important and worth the fight.

Beelzebub:

The only one of his brothers to immediately worry about MC's safety.

Most of his brothers were either more concern with their own feelings, either of frustration or unrequited love, but Beely just wanted to keep MC out of harm's way.

He already lost his sister to the Celestial realm's strict rules and he wouldn't be surprised if they've gotten even stricter since then.

The big guy really hoped that both MC and Simeon can make it out of this okay.

Not much of a planner, but trusts that Lucifer will think of something and is on standby, waiting to be told what to do.

Belphegor:

Pissed, but scared.

Blames all of this on Simeon.

That fucker knows the consequences to this shit, but he still chose to drag MC into it?

Is held back by Beel as he yells at the angel to stay the fuck away from MC.

After a long argument between the himself, the couple, and his brothers, the Avatar of Sloth realizes that nothing is gonna change.

Starts yelling at Lucifer to do something because things cannot repeat themselves. He can't lose MC like he lost Lilith.

Really doesn't care what the Celestial realm does to Simeon, but he will be damned a second time before he let's anything happen to MC.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me simeon #shy blob

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leviathans-normie · 4 years

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SINCE YOU THINK IT WAS FUN MAKE ME CRY. I was thinking in something bc I want to fight Lucifer. So, if you want ofc, can you do headcanons of The Brothers, Simeon and Diavolo (Or just The Brothers if it's too much) about this? Like, MC is a writer struggling with writers block and then they starts to write again but IS A ABOUT DIAVOLO x LUCIFER. (And yes, I'm MC) Thank u very much! Have a nice Day! ♥

AHHH SORRY IT'S TAKEN SO LONG. Also if you ever need someone to fight Lucifer, I'm always down to do that 👀

Anyway, have a break from the angst, y'all! You'll need it...

WRITER! MC WHO WRITES DIALUCI FANFIC WHEN HAVING WRITER'S BLOCK

LUCIFER

→He always admired his significant other's work.

→But right now, he just wanted to drench himself in holy water and slowly feel his skin melt.

→They had randomly found their notebook open and then, boom, his eyes fell upon that atrocity.

→When they returned, he was very offended and confused, to say the list.

→He had a million questions in his mind, but the first one was, "You know we're dating, right?"

→MC knew this wouldn't be good for them.

→A lecture would ensue for sure.

→However, they just walked up to him calmly, grabbed the notebook and ran screaming, "DIALUCI FOREVER BITCH."

→Disappointed in more than one ways, Lucifer made note of never mentioning this to his brothers.

MAMMON

→He knew MC's writings could have something publish-worthy in it.

→And that would make him mad money.

→Instead, what he saw was entire pages filled with Lucifer being in a relationship with Diavolo.

→He knew he'd find gold, but damn.

→He could sell it to R.A.D. students in secret, which would increase its value.

→It was priceless.

→He was snapped out of his thoughts when MC bonked him on the head.

→"Mammon, no-"

→"MAMMON, YES"

→Legend has it, Mammon is still hanging from the chandelier.

LEVIATHAN

→He knew his lover wrote in their free time.

→He'd asked them so many times to write fanfiction for him, so it was common practice for him to flip through their notebook.

→Yet, what he found this time, shocked him.

→For five seconds, at least.

→After that was over, he took pictures and uploaded them on Devilgram with the caption: "ROTFL MC's dead after this 💀💀💀"

→Of course he got scolded.

→Like, Levi you snitch.

SATAN

→Homeboy loved the fact his lover wrote.

→He always loved books and reading, so having his partner write was a dream come true.

→Just like Levi, he found out while flipping through their notebook.

→Bold of you to assume Satan wasn't pleased.

→In fact, he made his own additions and even started discussing it seriously with MC!

→If it was gonna piss off Lucifer, he'd go all the way.

→He was this close to publishing it, but MC talked him out of doing that.

ASMODEUS

→We all know this guy knows the most major tea in all of Devildom.

→Upon finding this, he deadass criticised MC about how "wrong it portrayed their relationship."

→Helped MC write the scenes better.

→"There aren't enough sex scenes."

→Lord have mercy on MC's soul.

→He asked for more of it with the excuse of "Lucifer and Diavolo aren't doing such stuff yet so I need something to replace that."

BEELZEBUB

→Was so clueless all the way through.

→If it weren't for a literal scene where they were named by name he wouldn't know what "Dialuci" was.

→But that's all pretty much.

→It is what it is.

→If it helps MC find their motivation, he doesn't care enough.

BELPHEGOR

→Bold of you to assume he didn't suggest it in the first place.

→He's too lazy to write something like that himself.

→But MC was the perfect partner in crime.

→He had them write it and then he tried to read it without sleeping; not because the writing was boring, but because he couldn't help it.

→Definitely encouraged them to publish it.

→But when he heard it was just to shake off the writer's block he was a bit disappointed.

→Like, damn, it could've been the next 50 shades but instead you playin'.

DIAVOLO

→Hoo, boy.

→Ond moment he was strolling at R.A.D., the next he was 3 pages deep into a fanfic about him and Lucifer.

→"MC when are you gonna continue it?"

→"What do you mean it was just practice?"

→Constantly begs them to continue it.

→No one knows why he likes it so much.

→But people's guess is that he enjoys reading Lucifer with its mere existence and the fact that he's read it.

SIMEON

→He found the notebook lying around randomly.

→Depending on the kind of fanfiction, he'd react differently.

→If the Dialuci was domestic and fluffy, he would be secretly feel fuzzy inside.

→If it was angst, he'd question everything he knew. He'd also be extremely concern about MC's mental health.

→Now, if it were smut... On the level of it, he'd pray God to have mercy on their soul. He'd be confused as to why they'd write this about people they know.

→At the end of the day, it's their life.

→If it helped them escape that "writer's block" then so be it.

#obey me #obey me swd #om beelzebub #om leviathan #fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me asmodeus #obey me diavolo #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me xc

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mikasaessucasaa · 3 years

Text

Title: Flatlanders

Summary: After being forced to retire from singing, Sansa returns to Winterfell Ranch, a place she hasn’t called home in over ten years, and finds the man that she left behind all those years ago.

Part 1 ....

1991

Los Angeles

“Mama’s sick,” was all Arya had said, and after a year of pain and failure, Sansa knew it was time to go home after twelve long years.

She didn’t go home when Papa died. No one was stupid enough to invite her to his funeral. She was the heathen he had kicked out of the house twelve years ago. Murderer, he had called her for wanting something more than the dirt land and piles of horseshit that they called home. She had spent years mourning the price of her freedom. It was enough.

She didn’t go when Robb died last year, either. Her Mama and siblings had it in them to invite her to his funeral, but she was in surgery when they buried him. The surgery failed, and now her most beloved brother was buried under six feet of earth, and she had nothing to show for missing her goodbyes.

And Mama. Mama never did nothing wrong.

She didn’t drink. She didn’t smoke. She prayed to Papa’s God. She was good and kind, of strong southern stock. And yet she was sick.

So sick that the doctors were telling Arya and her brothers six months. Six months and that was it. Say your goodbyes. Say your prayers. There won’t be any more chances afterwards.

Sansa could spit. Goodbyes and prayers never did nothing for her.

It wasn’t fair.

It never was.

So she sold her condo and most of her things, packed her bags, didn’t tell her friends she was leaving, without knowing if she would ever come back.

This was a kind of mourning too.

DFW, TX

Arya picked her up in a big red truck at the airport, a week after telling her the news.

They talked some over the years. It felt like the strain between them had lightened when Sansa left home. She stopped feeling so jealous of the freedom her little sister had just for the luck of having been born after Sansa. And she knew Arya had always been proud of her for pursuing something selfishly for herself, even if Sansa and Papa never got along again before he passed.

But Sansa hasn’t stepped foot in Texas since she was exiled. She hasn’t physically seen her family beyond the pictures Arya would send to her once a year. And now it felt like her family was disappearing before her.

Sansa cranked her window down as they headed North. Damn truck didn’t have AC, and the summer heat was killing her. And by winter Mama’s sickness would kill her.

“How’s Mama?”

“Ain’t good. She won’t listen to the doc and take her medicines. Says if she’s gonna go, she wants to be lucid for it.”

“But what about her pain?”

“She don’t want nothin’ strong, so the doc’s got her on some weak crud. Says if the Lord’s calling her home now, it’s only to be with Papa sooner.”

“Crazy old woman,” Sansa whispered under her breath.

But Arya heard and laughed. “You know Mama.”

She didn’t really, not anymore.

Mama called her too, over the twelve years.

But Mama picked a side, and it wasn’t Sansa’s.

There were a lot of things Mama didn’t want to know for the sake of being loyal to Papa. She didn’t want to know if Sansa was successful, wanted to pretend that the songs on the radio weren’t hers, didn’t want to pretend she was suffering either. So she ended up knowing nothing.

And maybe Sansa was the same about not wanting to know about life in Winterfell without her.

“Bran and Rickon?”

“Home for the summer.”

Bran must have skipped an internship this summer up in Boston to be home with Mama. Such a shame. Bran was such a smart kid, getting into Harvard and everything. Mama wouldn’t want him home just to watch her suffer if it meant that Bran would fall behind. Not that Sansa knew any better what key milestones college students had, having never gone to college herself. But Bran was the best out of her family to keep her informed with his life. So for a moment she could pretend that she was a good older sister.

“How are they?”

“You know – old enough to know what’s going on and to have seen it twice now, young enough to keep asking why it keeps happening to us.”

She was most worried about Rickon. He had just started school down in Austin and started learning what it meant to be without Mama, and now he’ll have to learn how to be without her forever.

“And you?”

“Old enough to stop asking why things happen and just accept it.”

Sansa tapped on the window frame.

She hasn’t seen Arya in person in a long time, but Sansa knew that she was lying. Arya had always been the angriest out of all of them. Deep down she knew Arya was raging at the unfairness of it all. But there was nothing either of them could do about the outrage inside of them, so they bottled it up, like they were always taught to.

Sansa was happy to let the silence between them last the rest of the ride to Winterfell, but Arya wasn’t.

“Jon’s around too, if you cared.”

“I don’t.”

“But if you did, you should know that he’s finally joined his papa’s club.” The Valyrian Dragons.

Sansa tapped against the window frame faster.

She had always hoped that when she left him, Jon would get away from the life that his papa had always wanted for him.

“That’s too bad.”

“Ain’t it though? Reckon he’s poised to take over the whole damn thing soon.”

“What about Aegon?”

“Baratheon got to him.”

Robert Baratheon’s been out to get the Targaryens ever since Rhaegar Targaryen made a mistress of his childhood love, Lyanna Snow, and it only escalated when Joffrey made a fool out of himself and decided to fuck with the Dragons and got himself killed.

Baratheon wasn’t even part of an MC, but he was a rich bastard – only reason Cersei ever came south to marry him. He had plenty of oil money to hire monsters to do his dirty work. Probably hired the Mountain to off Aegon.

“That’s too bad.” Unable to help herself, she asked, “Jon still got Ygritte hoverin’ over him?”

Arya shook her head. “Worse, Stormborn.”

Sansa had a lot of things she could say about Dany when she was in high school, most of them unkind, which is why she kept them all to herself like her Mama had taught her.

“Bless his heart.”

“Exactly.”

Winterfell, TX

The ranch looked older than Sansa remembered it, but otherwise everything was in the right place. The door to the house opened before Sansa could even get out of the car, and Mama rushed out to hold her tightly in her arms.

“Mama,” Sansa muttered into the crook of her neck. “Didn’t the doctor say you should stay in bed?”

“Bah what the doc said. The man’s full of crock. I feel fine.”

But she didn’t feel fine in Sansa’s arms. Mama was so tiny and frail. She had never seen her so fragile.

Mama had always been a domineering presence in Sansa’s mind, as big as Papa in presence, if not in stature. And now she was so little. It broke her heart.

Arya grunted as she passed by the two of them. “That’s fine, don’t help with the million bags that you somehow thought was a good idea to bring. I’ve totally got it.”

Sansa snorted and pulled away from Mama. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” The ranch was strangely quiet. “Where are the ranch hands anyways?”

Mama shook her head. “Haven’t been doing too well these last couple of years, with these big chains comin' in and buyin' up land and selling the cattle much cheaper. Can’t afford to have the ranch hands around everyday of the week.”

Sansa stiffened. “Mama, are you in trouble?”

“Less me, more the ranch. After all, can’t take the ranch with me when I’m dead.”

Sansa let out a stiff breath. “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out. If nothing else, we can always sell the ranch.”

Mama gave Sansa a harsh look. “This ranch is your Papa’s legacy.”

Yeah, well they hadn’t exactly gotten along in the last twelve years, and he wasn’t exactly around to fight for it, but still held her tongue and repeated, “We’ll figure it out.”

Sansa always did.

Part 2

#flatlanders #wip #rancher sansa #retired singer sansa #MC jon snow #motorcycle club jon snow #honestly what am I doing? I need to finish this chapter of the gilded wolf #not sure when / if I'll update this but it writes so easy #jonsa

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getlitaesthetic · 4 years

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Gosh all I've been able to think about for the last 5 hours is MC getting teleported into another reality for a shortish period of time (be it time magic glitch or curse or whatever) and coming back so extremely traumatized and the canon bros have no idea what the hell happened or how to help, because how do you help someone who trembles when you glance at them. Keep thinking about little habits MC'd pick up too and OUCH

The idea that anyone spends any amount of time thinking about my content makes my heart sing, so thank you anon! This works better as a fic, so I hope you enjoy, the rest is under the cut! NSFW and TW for graphic violence, abuse, and trauma.

WORD COUNT: 5.3K

THE BEGINNING:

MC had made... a mistake. Well, several mistakes in succession, really. Just a lot of them. They had gone to the Demon Lord’s castle for tea with Barbatos over his short amount of downtime throughout the day, and as enjoyable as those 10 minutes were, he was quickly called away back to Diavolo’s side for some errand or another. The result was that MC was left alone in the kitchen, after profuse assurance that they knew how to find their way out on their own.

That was mistake one. MC very much did not know the way out on their own. They stumbled into room after room, peeking at things and hoping for an exit they simply could not find. Well, they thought, if I’m here, I might as well explore. Their poking became more deliberate, as they entered a room where everything was covered in tarps.

Which was mistake two. Never go into a room in a magical demon palace where everything is covered. Common sense would have told them as much, but clearly they lacked much of that to be in this situation in the first place. MC tugged the covers off of each object as they passed, unveiling items that hadn’t been touched in centuries, and one that had been last touched months before at a student council meeting. The mirror was, of course, the least interesting of the bunch they had found so far, and instead they turned to the box that sat in front of it, crouching down as they pried it open.

The wooden lid squealed as it shifted, sending up a shower of dust and spiders that made MC cough and gasp, rubbing their eyes as they jumped to their feet, falling backwards in shock. They hit the glass of the mirror, but it didn’t feel solid, the way glass should. At first it felt like latex, conforming to their skin as they leaned back, but it quickly lost substance, and, as if falling through a pool of thick water, they were gone.

LUCIFER:

MC hit the hard ground with a heavy thud, groaning as they rubbed their head. They looked down, expecting to be soaked after their long, liquid fall, but they were dry, dusty even. Frowning in confusion, MC climbed to their feet, blinking quickly to clear their eyes as they finally looked around at where they had landed. The land was scorched and cracked, the sky red as dark clouds collected and thundered. A storm was coming. MC shivered, rubbing their arms, though it wasn’t cold outside. Something wasn’t right. Quickly, they turned, looking for the mirror they had fallen through, but it was nowhere in sight.

Thank God there was a familiar form cresting the deadened hill a short distance away. “Lucifer?” MC squinted, jumping up and waving their arms excitedly. They were saved! Lucifer had to know what to do, right? He always did. The form noticed their waving arms and started towards them. Soon, he was clearly visible, and MC flinched backwards at the sight. This was not Lucifer. He was too tall, his face so much more captivating. His wings dragged behind him in tattered pieces, his eyes were entirely red, without sign of a pupil... and his clothes. They were more like armor than the usual peacock feathered overcoat he usually wore. “M-My bad, I was looking for Lucifer,” MC laughed nervously, rubbing the back of their neck as they took a halting step backwards.

But it was too late. This malevolent force was already directly in front of them. “MC?” He questioned, his voice more of a hiss than the comforting, firm tone they were used to from him. “What in Hell’s name are you doing here? I thought I taught you better than to attempt escape.” His brow furrowed, sure he had chained them up before he had left. How had they gotten out, let alone this far out into the wilds of the Devildom, without harm? And this was not the outfit he had dressed them in this morning, all soft pastels instead of the black silks he preferred.

The demon shook off his confusion, grabbing MC by the arm, lifting them off the ground to look into their eyes as they hung from his too-tight grip. They swallowed uncomfortably. “I-I--”

“No,” he growled, “no excuses. You know the punishment that comes with an action like this.” Lucifer dropped them to the ground, kicking them hard in the ribs. MC wheezed, the breath leaving their lungs far too quickly. Their mind felt like it was overheating as they rolled over, trying to crawl away, only for a heavy foot to land on their left leg, breaking it with a sharp CRACK. MC cried out in pain, curling into a ball as they tried to protect their injured parts.

“Lucifer!” They sobbed. “It’s me! It’s MC!”

“Clearly,” the demon snarled, bending over to tangle his long, sharp claws in their hair, yanking hard and once again lifting them into the air as desperate tears streamed down their cheeks. “It’s time you learned your lesson for such disrespect.” MC twisted in his grasp, feeling a chunk of hair as it was ripped from their head as they fell on their knees. MC rose shakily on their one good leg, limping away as quickly as they could.

Lucifer laughed at the sight, letting them inch away until they were almost at the treeline, where an abandoned pile of junk someone had left out set. It was entertaining to watch them fight, as if they could win this. But he quickly lost interest in watching, stepping up to spin them around, only for MC to lose balance on their injured leg and fall backwards, hitting the junk pile, and the cold not-water once again.

The furious Avatar of Pride let out a hideous bellow as he punched the old piece of glass left laying on the ground, now shattered.

MAMMON:

A cold rush of air, and MC grabbed their leg as they hit plush carpet, sucking in lungful after lungful of sweet oxygen. They were... healed? No, no that didn’t make sense, they were certain they’d just had a broken leg, likely a broken rib as well. MC reached up to feel their bleeding scalp, but everything was just the same as it had been before they had fallen. Carefully, gingerly, they sat up on their knees, hesitant to look around. Just from the soft rug beneath them they knew they were not back in the palace. But if not there, where?

Finally, MC gathered the courage to raise their eyes to the rest of the room, and they gasped. The walls were lined in beautiful things. A wall, dedicated to the most expensive watches they had ever seen, and another with a collection of what had to be original lost paintings from the human realm-- they knew, because Satan had recently taken them on a date to a Devildom art museum exhibit where these exact works had been on display. Were they in the museum, then? They didn’t recall seeing all those watches there.

Then, noise. Coming from the hallway. MC sagged in relief at the familiar tone of Mammon’s voice, but once again a chill ran down their spine as they realized something was off. It was what he was saying, it just didn’t make any sense.

“Aye! Listen, you freakshow son of a bitch. I don’t care if you corrupted the GODDAMN Pope, if you don’t get my fucking money by the end of the day, your soul quota will be the least of your worries, got that?”

MC shrunk in on themselves, glancing around for a place to hide, but found nothing. The room was empty of furniture, only the walls covered in such expensive prizes. Mammon sighed as he shoved open the door. “Hey, MC, what are you doing here? I thought I just told you to get dressed to go out. You don’t look dressed.”

MC’s jaw dropped, and they squeaked out a quiet apology. Mammon looked different. Rich. They never thought they’d see the day where Mammon was dressed head to toe in designer clothes, and clearly without the stress of how he would pay for it.

“Well? You gonna get off your ass and do it, or do I have to start chopping pieces again?”

“Wha--” MC’s question never had time to hit air, as Mammon lost his patience, grabbing them by the hand to pull them up, only to freeze solid.

“MC?”

“Uh, um.. yeah?”

“Where’s your ring?

“My... ring?”

Clearly, Mammon was not pleased with the answer, his eyes turning stormy, and his casual smile souring. “Yeah. Your ring. The one that cost over half a million Grimm. That ring.”

“Oh, I, uh...”

“Not good enough, Doll.” The demon pulled them towards a door on the other side of the room. Dread pooled in MC’s stomach. Did a different room count as a secondary location? They heard you don’t get to live if you’re taken to a secondary location. The door opened into a room full of equipment, and their eyes widened in fear. The walls were lined in mirrors, presumably so they could witness their own torture.

Mammon cuffed their hand to a table, and no amount of yanking and pleading was getting it off. A buzzing sound started, the loud whine deafening MC as their heart turned into a hummingbird.

One by one, burning heat overwhelmed their nerves, and fingers began to fall away.

MC screamed.

Eventually, some unknown time later, MC blinked themselves awake, alone in the dark room with the fingers of their left hand in a discard pile beside them. Sobbing, they gathered the digits, shoving them into their pocket as they pounded on the door, to no avail, and then to the each of the mirrors. Nothing happened.

After an hour of futile knocking and screaming, their left hand covered in blood, they leaned their back against one of the mirrors, and slid to the ground, only to fall right through the cold glass.

LEVIATHAN:

Not again. Not again not again not again. This time, MC recognized where they were immediately. Undoubtedly this was Levi’s room, but already they were cringing backwards. Once again, things weren’t right. The fish in his room, they weren’t right, all staring hungrily and biting at the glass with sharp teeth. The wall reserved for collectibles was instead covered in old army pictures and weapons covered in glass. They tried the door with no success, and the only attatched room was the bathroom. Acting quickly, MC made the certainly unwise decision to break into the containers. If they had a weapon, maybe...

They searched for a heavy item to break the glass, but found nothing, anything that could remotely be used for defense was chained or screwed down. They lifted their hands, sighing in relief that, if nothing else, all of their fingers were back where they were meant to be. With no other choice, MC reeled back with all of their strength, and punched the solid covering to one of the sharper looking items, even though they didn’t recognize a single one as a standard weapon. Once. Twice.

Immediately, an alarm blared, and their heart sank. MC inspected the glass as their heart pounded. Only the tiniest hairline crack, not enough to really damage the integrity of the case, and a speck of blood. They heard keys outside the door, and panicked, rushing to sit on the bed, looking terrified. Maybe, if they played along, they wouldn’t get hurt again.

“Levi!” MC cried out when he opened it, rushing into his arms. They knew Levi, he was just a nerdy little demon who wanted to be loved for who he was. They could play that part, they could! But they still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t the Levi they knew. “I was taking a nap and the alarm started going off! Please make it stop!” Hidden behind Levi’s back, MC’s fist was already throbbing from the punch.

How easy to be reminded that this was not their Levi, though, when he pushed them back, eyes narrowed. “The alarm doesn’t just go off, MC, what did you do?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything, I swear!” They flinched back, already anticipating the pain that was to come. After all, Lucifer and Mammon hadn’t needed any proof to start breaking them. The pain didn’t come, though. Not immediately.

“Sit down,” he pointed to the bed. MC nodded quickly, shoulders dipped as they slunk away as quickly as possible. It would be harder for the envious demon to hurt them from across the room anyways. Levi headed straight for the pictures and weapons, inspecting each of them carefully, until he came to the one MC had managed to inflict minor damage on. He sniffed, leaning in and licking the blood from the glass.

“That’s your blood,” he stated bluntly.

MC felt themselves go pale. “My blood? That can’t be right,” they tried to defend, but it was clearly too late. Levi’s tail lashed out, wrapping them up tightly, dragging them towards the bathroom. They wanted to cry, but all they felt was the burning of tears that refused to fall.

Levi kept them trapped as he filled the large, deep sink with water. Dread filled the pit of MC’s stomach. Certainly he wouldn’t-- They gasped as he dunked their head under, holding them under as they thrashed in the too-tight grip of the demon’s tail. He lifted them out of the water, and MC gasped, desperately sucking in air as their lungs burned, only for him to do it again. He held them under until their thrashing weakened, dizziness setting in.

He held MC up once again, looking them in the eyes as he slammed the back of their skull against the bathroom mirror, the human’s eyes rolling back as they passed out, blood trickling down their head. Levi’s grip loosened around them as he stared in shock at the sight of his lover sliding backwards through the glass.

SATAN:

They had no idea how much time had passed by the time they came to, but they were thankful for the lack of throbbing in their hand, and the ability to breathe. Satan. He had to be next. Sure, their common sense might be lacking, but MC still had basic pattern recognition on their side. Terror filled their veins as they realized that meant they weren’t even halfway through the day’s horror. 3 down, 4 to go. Then it’s all over... I hope, MC thought as they dragged themselves to their feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that momentarily took them over.

Swallowing thickly, MC took in their surroundings. This place, at least, was far more familiar than any of the others so far. The library of RAD. They did not look closer, not wanting to know what was wrong, but if they had they would have noticed the dark theme of every book on the shelves. The library was empty, save for the sound of one other shuffling through books around the corner. MC didn’t desire to know who it was, opting to take a seat in one of the heavy, straight-backed chairs circling the nearest round table, meant for a group of 6.

There was no surprise when Satan turned the corner, arms stacked with books, but MC’s heart dropped into their stomach regardless. He was beautiful. More beautiful than they ever could have imagined, and they stopped breathing, just for a moment, as if they’d forgotten how. A blush pooled in MC’s cheeks as they stared, lips parted just slightly.

Satan laughed softly, offering a cheeky smile. “Well, darling? Are you going to pull the chair out for me or not?” They nodded quickly, rushing to his aid, but fear began to fill them as they saw his gorgeous face crease in the forehead, a small frown on his lips. “MC, you’re not wearing the dress I gave you. Did something happen?”

Their voice caught in their throat, but he seemed so genuine, so sweet, how could they leave him without answers? “It got dirty,” they mumbled, looking to the carpeted floor.

“Look at me,” he insisted, frown deepening. Something wasn’t right. He had trained such poor behavior out of his lovely MC long ago.

They looked up, bottom lip already trembling, and he knew something was deeply wrong. Satan set the pile of books on the table, taking MC into his arms, where they shook violently against his chest, the heaving sobs coming quickly. “Now, now,” he sighed. “I’ll make it better. I always do, don’t I?”

After all of the pain of the day, and the comfort of finally being held, MC barely noticed the sharp stab of the needle in their lower back as he slid his warm hands under their shirt. They blinked dreamily as they slowly relaxed, Satan catching them as they nearly collapsed to the floor.

Once again, they came to in a strange place. A room, decorated with soft things, a white vanity covered in makeup in front of them. They were smiling, their mind finally calm, and they were dressed in a darling floral getup that restricted their breathing just a little. MC tried to pause to think about it, something tugging in their chest saying they should be afraid, but it was too far to catch.

They hummed delightedly as they leaned forwards, hiding their dark under eye circles. Satan will be so proud! It was a thought they had never had before, but it felt perfectly in place here. The door clicked, and they looked up to find the smiling demon, melting once again at the sight of him. “Welcome back!” MC exclaimed brightly. Satan crossed the room, cupping their neck in his hand as he leaned forwards to kiss them, tilting them backwards until the back of their head pressed the glass of the vanity, and they tumbled through.

ASMODEUS:

MC’s head was suddenly incredibly clear as they dropped into a comfortable bed full of extra soft pillows. A hideous shudder racked their body, and they felt so dirty when they thought about Satan, and how he had clearly drugged them. More than that, their stomach rolled heavily, threatened to make them wretch when they realized that in a sick way, they had kind of liked it.

They forced themselves to shake it off as they looked around what must have been Asmo’s room. To be honest, it wasn’t all that shocking. The ceiling and the wall across from the bed were both made entirely of large mirrors, and sex toys lined the two side walls. The last wall was saved for the enormous bed that MC now laid on. As much as they wanted to sleep, to rest, even for a moment, they knew they had to get out as quickly as possible. All that was left after this was the twins, right? Maybe, if they were lucky, they shared a world the way they shared a room! So far, the constant in the escape had been mirrors. That was easy here, they were huge and readily available!

MC stood on shaky legs and made their way to the mirror wall, pounding on it with the side of their fist. “Hello?” They cried out. “C’mon! Let me through, please let me through!” Then, a floral scent filled the room, and it made MC’s head spin.

Thoughts of escape were quickly fading, replaced by the need to focus on the beautiful scent surrounding them. Their vision went dark, but they couldn’t find it in them to gasp. No matter, as it was quickly restored, when Asmo removed his hands from their eyes, revealing himself in the mirror behind them.

“Surprise!” He crooned, and MC could feel hot desire pool low in their stomach.

“Oh,” MC moaned softly, relaxing into his arms, still facing the mirror.

“Naughty thing! You want me to fuck you against the mirror?”

“Mmm, y- uh... yesss...” Words were becoming increasingly difficult, and they leaned their forehead against the glass as their bottoms were yanked down, their ass pressed against the long, hard bulge of Asmo’s cock.

“Hmm... Only if you really deserve it! What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Umm...” MC’s brow furrowed as they tried to remember, but it was gone. A blank spot in their memory. They looked for any other information about themselves, but it all came up empty, as they were thoroughly distracted by how needy they were becoming for the hot length they were rubbing against.

Asmodeus giggled in delight, spinning MC around to face him, invading their mouth with his tongue as he guided their hand to his cock, which they mindlessly began to stroke. Up and down, up and down, good pets stroke up and down...

The demon seemed pleased with that, shoving their back hard against the mirror as he lifted them up to straddle his waist, only for MC to slip away into the rippling glass.

“Hey! But I was horny!”

BEELZEBUB:

MC was not lucky. The twins most definitely did not share a world, and they guessed it as soon as their ass hit the hard tile of the kitchen floor. They had to shake their head to regain a semblance of proper thought back, whining to themselves as they tried to use the counter to pull themselves to their feet. The counter was much taller than MC remembered, and they settled for using one of the drawers instead.

After a long minute with their forehead resting on the cool marble, things seemed mostly back to normal. At least now they remembered their own name. MC hesitated, ideas of what they could possibly be looking forward to with Beel running in a jumble through their not-quite-unscrambled head. The kitchen was empty. MC’s shoulders began to shake, as their body was wracked with silent sobs. They couldn’t handle any more of this. They couldn’t. But what other choice did they have? More than that, what could possibly be left? They’d been tortured physically, mentally, emotionally, and it was getting harder to see an end to the constant pain. How long had it even been? Hours? Days, weeks, years, was anyone even looking for them?

MC was shaken from their thoughts as heavy steps entered the kitchen. Beelzebub didn’t bother to speak to them, just picking them up and setting them on the counter as he took out a massive pot, cutting board, cleaver, meat tenderizer, seasoning, and began to rummage through the refrigerator for ingredients. His body began to... shift, his stomach sinking into his body, as he grew taller, arms thickening. He opened his mouth, and all that came out was a deep groan as his stomach growled.

Unsure what to do, MC stayed frozen still, as if he would forget they were there, but as previously mentioned, luck was not something on MC’s side. Beel dropped a massive armful of groceries on the counter, and lifted the cleaver.

MC’s eyes widened, mouth opening to scream, but it was too late. He severed the bottom half of their leg without a word, and began preparing it for his stew. MC went pale, and passed out, tumbling to the floor. They woke minutes later, but stayed motionless on the floor, in shock at what had happened.

When he finished making his food, he picked up MC with one arm, and the pot with the other, carrying them both back to the dining room, and setting MC in a chair as he began to eat in front of them. Their stomach rolled at the sight of their own leg being ravenously devoured in front of their own eyes, and pushed out of the chair to vomit ungracefully on the floor beside them. Beel didn’t stop eating, but laughed heartily.

“Not hungry, MC?”

They shook their head, before noticing the mirror mounted on the wall near the table, sagging with relief, before realizing they honestly had no idea how the mirrors worked. Pounding on it hadn’t worked in Mammon’s torture room, or Asmo’ bedroom, so what was causing it?

“Beel?” MC questioned, looking up at him.

“Yeah?” He replied through his mouthful.

“Can you get that mirror down?”

Beel looked over at the mirror, confused, but shrugged and crossed the room to take it down, setting it on the floor. As he started to return to his seat, MC grabbed the pot of his food, and he snarled, shoving them backwards. They fell, and their back hit the glass. MC said a prayer of thanks as they sunk through.

BELPHEGOR:

Maybe it was the brothers. Maybe that was the trick? They had to be touching them for the mirror to work as a portal? No, no, that couldn’t be it. Asmo had been grinding on them with their face to the glass and they hadn’t gone through. Mammon wasn’t even nearby when they’d disappeared.

Fuck. So then what could it be? At least they had reached Belphie. This had to be the last of them, right? There were no secret brothers that no one had bothered to mention? The thought hurt, so MC pushed it aside. No. No. This had to be the last one. Another would kill me. The problem this time was obvious. They were in an open field, with no mirrors, and no Belphegor. The grass was long and dead as far as their eye could see, and there were no trees. Far away, they could see what looked like rain. Maybe that’s where they had come from, when they were with Lucifer? It had looked like it was going to rain then... But the rain, it was odd. Was that... Fire?

Another detail that wouldn’t help, would only haunt their nightmares. MC ignored it the best they could, and only hoped it wasn’t headed this way.

MC was not as perceptive as they believed, as was constantly proven, and it only took shape again as the long, waving puff of hair at the end of Belphie’s tail rose into the air, swaying in the cold breeze. They sighed, in both fear and relief. Whatever this final torture was, it was time to get it over with.

“Good morning,” the demon yawned, stretching and rolling in the grass. He laid on a small hoard of objects, likely brought to him by Beelzebub. Just little trinkets, things the other twin thought his brother would enjoy upon his awakening. MC saw figurines, small knives, jewelry. But no mirrors. Fear struck their heart.

“G-Good morning, Belphie.”

“How long was I asleep?” He bat a necklace away from his face with a lazy swish of his hand, and MC watched it skitter away into the grass.

“I’m not sure,” they replied honestly, sitting beside him. At this point, MC was resigned to whatever was about to happen. Their entire body already ached from healing over and over again.

“You’re still alive,” he rose to his haunches, revealing more of his trinkets, rubbing at his eyes. He seemed surprised by that revelation.

“Am I not supposed to be?” MC asked.

“No,” Belphie answered, as he wrapped his body over theirs, drawing them into his nest of objects. MC thrashed and struggled as their air was cut off, fighting for breath, but the world began to darken at the edges.

Maybe this is it.

Their back hit a figurine with mirrored eyes that glowed in the reflection of the nearing rains of fire, and they tumbled.

DIAVOLO:

MC shuddered back to consciousness in a room that was soaked in blood, and they broke down, fists pounding the floor. “NO! NO NO NO! NO!” What was it now? What could it possibly be now? “I did it all! I went through all the brothers! What could FUCKING BE LEFT!” A drop of molten gold dripped from the ceiling, burning their skin, and they screamed at the top of their lungs in pain and frustration.

Diavolo laughed from the couch, his permanent grin still wide, simply watching the human lose their mind on the ground in front of him. MC looked up in shock at the sound, their watery red-rimmed eyes finally registering that they weren’t alone. “D-Diavolo?” They whispered, confused.

Horror burned hot through their veins at the thought that it might never be over. Who was next? Barbatos? The Demon King himself? Was this just an endless cycle through every demon in the Devildom?

They could feel their mind beginning to crack. Diavolo didn’t bother to lift a finger. The delicate creature was destroying themselves, no help required. He leaned back, as MC began ripping chunks of their hair out of their head, screaming at the top of their lungs.

“I think you’re ready now,” he stood, grabbing the gold leafed mirror, and lowered it over the curled up body of the human, until they had been completely swallowed, and the glass was flat against the floor.

ENDING:

MC was still screaming when they reappeared in the Devildom they knew and once loved, thrown across the dusty floor, coughing and sobbing. They flew to their feet, tearing out of the room and down the hall. They threw open every door until they finally found the exit, their sore legs carrying them all the way back to the House of Lamentation, where they ran up to their room, tossing their belongings haphazardly into a suitcase.

Lucifer was the first to get to the room, closely followed by the rest of the brothers. “MC?!” he questioned, concern lacing his voice. MC turned to the sound, all of the blood draining from their face as they looked at the brothers, their body convulsing in violent shakes as they saw all 7 brothers gathered at their door.

“Get away! Get away from me!” They shouted, hot tears flooding their face. “Don’t touch me!” But save for Levi and Beel respectfully hanging back, the other 5 only moved closer. “No!” MC could no longer hold on to their bag, dropping it on the floor, all of their clothes spilling out. They dropped to their knees, sobbing as they desperately tried to repack.

Now all of the boys were hesitating, unsure what to do. Satan knelt in front of them, still keeping his distance, his voice soft. “Hey, MC, are you okay? You know we’re here for you, right?”

“What the hell happened to ya?” Mammon piped in.

MC screamed, covering their ears. They could only remember the needle in their spine, growing weak in Satan’s arms, and being completely out of control of their own actions.

They shut the bag, steeling themselves as they shoved through the crowd of demons, all of them too afraid to try to stop MC’s flight. They sprinted down the stairs, disappearing out the door. They couldn’t stop running. Not now, not until their legs gave out. Maybe never again.

POST-SCRIPT:

If MC had bothered to ask Barbatos or Diavolo instead of snooping, they would have been able to inform MC exactly how the mirror worked. Or, alternatively, they could have simply checked the instructions engraved on the back. In curling script, it read: “To see an alternate life of your own, look into the mirror. To live your life in an alternate world, walk backwards into the mirror. You will be transported to the land of the people who viewed the mirror on the last day it was used. You will remain in each world until you go backwards through any available mirror, and will return to your original dimension upon completing the journey of the mirror’s day.

Example: Magdalene and John look into the mirror on Wednesday. On Friday, Hephaestus goes backwards into the mirror. He must visit both Magdelene’s and John’s worlds in order to return home.

Please use responsibly.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me dark au #obey me yandere #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #officials #house of lamentation

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ranmanjuu · 4 years

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hi! can you do a gen z mc who got injured at the protests and have them elaborate on what the protests were about to the oda forces? i got tear gassed at a protest so your writing is actually helping me feel better!

tw : injuries from police br*tality, heavy r*cism

first of all i hope you’re okay!! i’m so sorry for taking so long i hope you’re still here reading this ehhh,,. i personally don’t know much of ‘getting injured in protests’ other than rubber bullets and tear gassing—and for anyone out there protesting (also considering recent things that have happened in my country,,,), please be safe out there!

ᅠᅠ

—nobunaga:

the first encounter you had, he didn’t really notice it. he had a lot of things on his plate, mostly about his assassination attempt, you know, the usual.

it’s only when he invites you to his tenshu to know more about his most interesting chatelaine. after all, the moment his life was out of danger, the immediate groan out of you raised a brow.

in your defense, going back from a protest then just sent back 500 years in the past did put you in a pissy mood. the injustice was enough bullshit, you didn’t want to deal with this right after.

and,,, your response was probably too snarky for a man in power like him. but that’s what compelled him to bring you to the castle. maybe it was spite, or just dangerous curiosity. no one’s spoken to him in such,,, rude manners before.

being all past the whole, chasing-you-down-just-for-you-to-come-to-my-sickass-castle, the dragged-500-years-into-the-warring-states-period, constant-wars-everywhere, and everything in between, you’ve managed to,, calm down decently, at least. you’re just really confused as to why he called you in.

through your slippery tounge, you accidentally let it slip that you’re from the future; great job! mission one from sasuke already failed. but—you’ve dug your grave, now you have to lie in it.

upon listening to the rest of your explanation, naturally, nobunaga starts asking questions.

after a series of them, mostly about general stuff like technology, etc., he hits you with a curveball. “what is that?” he asks, observing the small patch of reddened skin.

you’ve been shot by a rubber bullet prior to the time traveling. you wager that they were aiming for the neck—a highly fatal area to hit, even with a rubber bullet, mind you—but you were lucky enough to only be hit near the collar bone. still—to say it’s inexcusable is an understatement.

“huh—?” you follow his eyes, then trail your fingers on the edge as you show more of your injury, “. . .got injured a while back. asshole cops think they can just. . .fuckin’. . .”

your sentence turns too faint for him to hear clearly, he only knows that you feel anger from your tone. all he does is gaze passively as the steam comes out of your, slowly.

“what happened exactly?”

and with that one question, he’s in for quite the story. you start off in the beginning; what triggered it all. the injustice brought by those who are said to protect the people, the same ones that shed blood because they knew they could get away with it. then, the protests done by the ones who wanted justice, equality, something that should just be the norm at this point.

and then, the horrible attacks the cops’ve done to hose who protested,,, the mere thought gets your blood boiling, really. no one poised any kind of harm, it was a peaceful protest—and yet they still hurted, perhaps even killed. and they get away with it.

“. . .and i sure as hell ain’t gonna die to some bullshit system. i’ll keep on going at it until people can stop dying so. . .needlessly like that.”

he pauses after hearing you. his eyes have a vague sense of scrutinize, but certainly not at you. "and you still continue to go, even if it results in injuries for you?”

you look back at him, determination burning like a passion, “as long as less people will die of discrimination; as long as our cause is heard in the end—i’ll sacrifice anything for it. for equality.”

the silence rings for minutes.

but the hand on your shoulder quickly strays your mind back to him. to your surprise, a daring smile, almost a smirk, pulled his lips, “you are braver than many men that i’ve met. fiery and passionate also. i do believe you’ll be quite the addition here.”

and while you raise an eyebrow to that, your heart settles as he ends it with one final thing, “you’ve earned my utmost respect.”

ᅠᅠ

—hideyoshi:

he would have been highly alerted in your presence—had it not been the fact that your eye was bruised and injured. it was fresh, the patch of skin having not turn purple or black yet, but it was enough to signal that it could be a fatal wound.

medics were sent your way by his command, and given the opportunity, he checked in on you frequently. the culprit of the attempted assassination was yet to be found—so he just assumed that you were a poor civilian caught in the crossfire.

you were rather crude to him, but he brushed it all off. you must’ve been some sort of stressed out after just saving his lord, so he gave you space and went to do other things.

it’s when they reconvene under nobunaga’s order did he find out about the decision for your fate.

“my lord, are you sure we should bring them back to azuchi? perhaps they have a place in a town around here.”

“—not really.” hideyoshi’s eyes filled with surprise and concern as a small response came out of you, with eyes looking away from everyone in the tent with lips bitten anxiously and brows stitched together.

so it ended on you going to azuchi along with them. because really, even if you didn’t want to, what were you to do? you had no place in the sengoku, and you’ve forgotten all about your scouts lessons back in middle school to survive in the forest.

and while you insist on working rather than just be royalty basically, hideyoshi is the one who persuades you to at least rest first. with a sigh, you agree.

from then on, you find him visiting you quite often between his breaks. most of the time, asking how you’ve been, making light conversations over tea, and sometimes fussing over the smallest things. it’s a gradual change you’ll get used to—from the failed assassination to the weird, home-y feeling he brings.

it didn’t take long for his curiosity to push him. one day, with the usual cup of tea, the silence passes for quite the moment until he spoke up, “if i may ask, where exactly,,, did you get that?”

he doesn’t quite point to it, but you know what he’s talking about. half your vision is covered now, from ieyasu’s work on trying to make it better. you stare in the cup, swishing the tea around, “. . .my town had, uhhh, ‘problems’.”

he listened intently as you reworded the current real life events. just change the cops to guard, the bullets to blunt sticks(?), etc. the core of it you kept the same, the discrimination, the unruly deaths and wounds of the innocent.

all the while, hideyoshi looks at you with slightly parted lips and eyes that spell a bit of disbelief. such compassion don’t exist in a lot of people—much less a majority of civillians from a town. he thought he’d’ve heard about it, but you did say it was quite the small one, far away.

as you finish your long explanation, your face was scrunched up in a scowl, remembering the scene at the time. the cops came, a highly dangerous situation; but you weren’t leaving just like that. not until you got hit by a bullet did you go back home—and look where you are now.

“—.” hideyoshi calls out your name, snapping you to reality. you dart your attention to him, his face filled with concern, worry—but also slight anger and a distant sense of fondness.

“. . .when nobunaga unites the country, we’ll be sure to aid you. we’ll stop them from hurting anyone else. so until then, please stay with us.”

the sentiment brought warmth to your heart, but you knew the truth. he wouldn’t be able to, the wormhole was a big separation in that. even so, you shook your head, “i don’t,,, uhh, think i can stay for that long.”

his brows stitch together in confusion, “and why is that?”

“. . .i want to go back as soon as i can. and—i only have one chance to do such a thing, and never again.” upon your answer, his eyes widened a bit. no further questions were asked about that, as your own expression said you didn’t want to talk about it.

“but—you could be in danger if you go back.”

“i don’t care.” the tea is cold as you set it down, “. . .i don’t wanna,,, just escape and turn a blind eye to it, i think. it may be safer for me here, but—i still want to help back there. whether or not i’m injured is,,, a means to an end, for me.”

that’s when every suspicion he could’ve had about you dissolved. the determination and righteousness that burned so brightly in your voice was irreplaceable. along with that, was a very deep respect for you. he serves nobunaga because he believed in equality among everyone, and it seems so do you. even if you’re willing to sacrifice yourself—to see a better world where everyone is happy.

a beat passes. two. with a sigh, hideyoshi’s hardened gaze relents back into the strange warmness, hid hand reaching out to ruffle your hair. “well, i don’t think i agree with you diving into potential danger, but just so you know. if you ever need help, you can always reach to us, alright?”

you breath out a chuckle, “. . .of course.”

ᅠᅠ

—mitsuhide:

your whole entire body was sore even before the wormhole sent you back. not to mention, just after that, you had to carry a full-armored man out of a burning building with someone trying to kill said man.

so to say you were disoriented was quite an understatement.

you didn’t even feel it until days have passed. and at this point, you’ve gone under mitsuhide’s tutoring. being sat down for a long time made it painfully obvious that your body was still healing—but you’ve sang this song a million times before. in which the soreness lingered for a while, and then it’d disappear. you can bear with it.

that is, until he started training you in battle.

the tanegashima practice was fine, if a bit triggering by the gunshots. but you saw it the same as archery. however, sparring on the other hand,,,

yeah. the first break you took, you already felt every single part of you reeling. mitsuhide wasn’t ruthless with you, but you figure he wasn’t being soft either.

in truth, prior to arriving in the sengoku period, your body had taken a hit in a protest. you didn’t get caught in the tear-gassing crossfire, or got shot by a rubber bullet. rather, a police car had arrived at the scene and begun to drive forward into the crowd. it didn’t become a car crash site, no deaths occurred to your knowledge (thankfully).

but you were one of the ones in the front row seats, you fell to the ground and took some damage in a number of places. they were more of inconveniences than anything.

still—forcing your body to fight a trained swordsman was not a good idea.

and the fox has an eye for these things, sensing when his enemies are weak. at least it proves to be a disadvantage if you really are dangerous. his eyes linger on you as you rub your sore spots with the occasional groan.

“the little mouse seems to be wounded.” he says. it’s clear he’s trying to extract some kind of information about the person who just popped out one day, “pray tell, what might be the cause of such?”

“i got, uhhh,” you can’t say car, those don’t exist yet— “knocked down by a horse.” admittedly, a horse is probably more dangerous than a car—but you deal with what you have.

“is that so.” with the smile and narrowed eyes of his, you knew that he didn’t buy it. but to your defense, your state clearly proves it in some way—so he deduced that you weren’t telling the complete truth.

and he welcomes it. it’d be his absolute pleasure to unravel the mystery.

eventually, he does. in promise to keep your secret away from others, you keep his.

“so, little mouse,” the night has yet to pass, but you wish it did. your stuff was spilled in front of you, all evidence of you coming from the future, “was that cover-up story about the horse a lie?”

it’s a rhetorical question; he knew the answer already. still, you roll your eyes, “of course, we rarely use those in the future. a police car hit a crowd, and i was caught in it.”

promptly realizing he doesn’t know anything, a lengthy explanation ensued.

“oh my. and you said this, ‘car’ drove into a crowd? that’s highly dangerous, is it not?”

“it is!” your calm words slowly dissolve, your hands now waving in gestures, “and guess what, it’s the cops that do it! uhh—guards in old terms, i guess. y’know the people who’re said to supposedly protect us? yeah, hit us with a car.”

mitsuhide isn’t the most curious about the future. but he is a bit confused about the context.

and so you continue, explaining everything. from the start, to where you were, along with what your thoughts are on the whole situation

through all that, he stays silent, not commenting until you were thoroughly finished. you can’t read his expression—so you stare at him, waiting for even a word.

suddenly, he smiles, “well, looks like our little mouse is quite the something, aren’t you?” before you could respond with anything, he pats you on the head with a strange sense of softness, “pureness and ideals like you are rare in this world.”

in truth, he agrees. he’s someone who’s faced discrimination head on from being in the lower class—and he fights for a world that his lord would like to see. even if he’ll remain in the dark, for his stained, dark hands would only corrupt the purity. at least, so he thinks.

you look back with pursed lips and a slight frown, “then i’ll help make it more common. if it results in people being treated as people, i’ll do it.”

you don’t hear it, but he draws in a sharp breath. his eyes are muddled—with what, you don’t know—but you drop the thought as he lifts the hand off of your head with a chuckle, “i will say, i didn’t quite expect this.”

they say eyes are the window of the soul. while he had his closed most of the time—you managed to peek in a small bit of warmth and fondness in them.

ᅠᅠ

—masamune:

you came to the sengoku period with a sprained ankle. which, in a time where war was rampant, probably wasn’t a good thing to have. especially when you’re being dragged into battle just for the fun of it.

although you admit you made yourself seem tougher than you were (with you being used to injuries like this before, so you’ve grown used to gritting your teeth), you still curse masamune to hell and back. no, you do not care if you’re on a horse or just in camp, your foot hurt like shit either way.

naturally, you wouldn’t take that for long.

thus the next time he planned to take you along (you could already see the glint in his eye), you snapped at him. well—much less ‘snap’ and more of ‘telling him off rather harshly ft. a sprinkle of swearing’.

“listen, assfart, my ankle’s been killing me, and if i’m going by that analogy, you’re practically desecrating it’s corpse and grave. so for the love of god, stop dragging me into battles!”

an expression of surprise went on his face for a moment, before it morphed to his usual grin, “is that so? seems like out kitten likes to run around and ended up hurting themselves.”

“not my fault they shot me in the fuckin’ ankle. . .” you mutter without a second thought under your breath, which he, unfortunately, heard.

“they shot you, lass?”

seeing his ever so slightly widened eye, you pursed your lips, “yeah. nothing too serious.”

even so, you see the way his eyes narrow with a glint—more so of excitement than anything else, “still though lassie, with you being under nobunaga, i doubt they’ll get away with hurtin’ ya.”

“what does that mean?”

fingers comb through your hair in a wild pat, accompanied with a fanged grin, “they won’t be alive for hurtin’ the lord’s precious lucky charm.”

your lips pursed as a frown pulls upon your brows, “i don’t want them to get away solely for me being nobunaga’s ‘lucky charm’.”

“and why is that, kitten?”

his eyes slightly lit up at your hardened and serious aura as you closed your eyes with a sigh. “the same people who hurt me are the same ones who’ve hurt many others, on the basis that they believe they’re above them; over a stupid thing like race. and i won’t be just letting it slide, even if i can’t fight or anything.”

the flame in your eyes are ones that masamune has grown to recognize; the anger and bitterness as you look back on a memory, only to fill up your heart with passion.

“i’ll die if it means that they’ll be punished and everyone is treated the same.”

silence rings past, the wind slowly becomes a solid aura in the air. stunned, he leaves a small chuckle and pats your head,

“the lord made a wonderful decision to bring ya here, lass.”

—ieyasu:

going by his usual self, he didn’t care much when you arrived, other than you were someone nobunaga picked up from his failed assassination. however, him being an expert in things health related, some things didn’t go by with him.

first of all, your eyes were a slight fade of red. at first he figured it was a leftover from honno-ji’s smokes, but as the days tick by, its persistence is now rather worrying. they should’ve faded away by now, so he thought.

and it became more and more painfully obvious, at least to him. the way you rubbed your eyes sometimes, them tearing up at random intervals—and even you squinting at rare occasions that, unless you had an eye problem like mitsunari, shouldn’t be there.

a seed of worry was planted, although he never expressed it. after all, you were being dragged into battle, where dust and more smoke can easily go into your already bugged eyes.

therefore one day, wordlessly, he took you to his workplace. at first, you were confused; ieyasu hasn’t exactly talked to you a lot.

he picks up a small bottle, along with a cup-like lid, “use this, and wash your eyes with it. and by that i mean just tilt it up and blink when it goes into your eyes.”

you just blinked a few times, stunned more than anything. “,,,, why?”

“you think i don’t notice?” he scoffs, “you’ve been rubbing your eyes like crazy, and it’s past the point where your eyes should even be red since the honno-ji incident. either your eyes have been having problems way before, or you’re just dumber and clumsier than i thought.”

“hey! it’s not my fault, for any of the incidents!”

“so there are multiple instances?”

the judgemental look sent your way was something that your stubborn mind won’t back out from, even if it mean having to somewhat explain your situation.

“w, well, there have been several uhm.... arson crimes in my town, i can’t help but be in the vicinity.”

if arson crimes translated to tear gassings, yes, there were many.

“arson crimes? your town is,,, jeez.”

“it’s not the citizens’ fault, look to the fuckin’ guards of our village for that.” the tone had immediately shifted from a kind of flustered banter, to immediate bitter undertones.

immediately, the silence rang on. ieyasu sat there, looking into you as much as he could, with his bare bones knowledge of you. the pieces were there, and it wasn’t hard to put them together. for a moment, he wondered if you were more than the unfortunate one to be pulled into this mess. but if your town was as much a mess as that. . . perhaps it was for the better.

“. . .then you’re planning to stay here, right?” he had his own opinions and thoughts of someone taking advantage of a high-powered lord taking them in, but eh, he thinks, people will do what they have to do to survive—

“not really. assuming nobunaga would even let me go in the first place.”

ieyasu stood there, stunned, “. . .you’re planning to go back to your own town? even from all the danger there?”

“yeah.” you look at him with a slight imbalanced expression, “i don’t have anywhere else to go, other than there, so. . .”

“but why not stay here? it’s safer, you do know that right?”

“of course,” you sigh, “but it’s still my home, all things considered. yeah, there’s a whole lot of corrupt things going on but, they’re still humans, the people i live with. i don’t wanna run away from it, i’d just. . .i’d like to try and help them also.:

ieyasu stays silent as you lean back to the wall, looking out the door with a fond and melancholic gaze, “the,,, guards in my town are doing this just cause of their stupid beliefs and whatever. superiority complex and whatnot. and people are dying because of it, only for things that they can’t control and. . . it’s just so bullshit.”

you turn back to him, with a strong light blaring in your eyes; filled with hope and determination, “wouldn’t you want to go back and help them? even if i get injured, as long as people will be treated the same and won’t face death for something miniscule, i consider it worth it.”

you’ve never seen him surprised at you; at least not in this sense. usually it’d be surprise at some mistake you did, making an offhand crude comment to it but here. . .here it’s partnered with the smallest bit of sparkle. like a hidden respect for you behind his uncaring persona.

you only look as he slowly stands up, his shadow befalling on you. with the same, yet subtle, amount of shine in his eyes as in yours, he sighs softly and takes your hand,

“at least if you’re gonna go into that kind of battlefield, let me teach your ditzy self how to take care of injuries first.”

—mitsunari:

your sudden arrival already aroused questions, as you’d appeared before nobunaga sporting a bloodied cut on your cheek. at the time, they took the assumption that the assassin did it to you.

and although it was fussed for a bit, it was quickly covered up with some cloth fitting for the period. and then, everything went as normal.

taking up job as mitsunari’s personal caretaker wasn’t one you’d reject, because really, how bad could it be? but the man himself kept insisting that you don’t, added that not only were you a special charm of nobunaga’s, you were also injured from the night of honno-ji. he couldn’t do that to you; not after such a stressful night.

and yet you were stubborn as well. with the final decision being up to nobunaga, which you accepted wholeheartedly, of course, you now had the role to take care of mitsunari.

although his. . .clumsy nature was one that you should be worried for, you find it that he often checks up on you, apologizing each time he could’ve potentially hurt you. and each time, you waved it off and assured him that yes, you were fine.

but you can see it in his eyes, the tint of guilt and worry that lingers on before he succumbs to his reading trance. truth is, the injury is just a mild inconvinience of pain, so there really wasn’t much to fuss over.

in his eyes, your degree has gotten much higher than before. whether your wound would’ve affected your job didn’t matter to him; it was the fact that you were hurt in the first place. you shouldn’t have to take care of him when you needed to take care of yourself! or so is what he thinks to himself.

and so he tries to make it up to you. you need reading lessons? he’ll try to squeeze it in his schedule! or maybe it’s time for a break, he’ll tour you around in the bustling city of azuchi. it feels like whenever you need something, he’s always there next to you, and you can’t help but feel charmed by it.

mitsunari isn’t one to notice details about a person if it isn’t in a situation like in battle. but he’s gotten very sharp at seeing the slight reactions and how you’re doing; and here’s what he’s picked up on:

other than the wound on your cheek, your stomach area seems to be bruised or something close to that. you might’ve not told anyone about it, cause he hasn’t heard a peep of that anywhere, not even when he kept asking politely (or bugging, in the man’s eyes) for ieyasu’s information.

so fuck it, he just decides to ask you one day.

“why do you have an injury on your stomach area?”

it was a lesson hour, you didn’t expect him to throw,,,that curveball. maybe more of, what does this character mean? or how do you write this word? but. . .

“uhm—an incident that happened before the whole honno-ji thing.”

“and you never told anyone, even lord ieyasu?”

“n, no, kinda.”

he’s serious than before, and yet there’s something in his eyes that’s very inviting, inviting you to tell your feelings and story, inviting you to a hug of warmth and safety.

and you succumb.

“. . . things have been happening in my town before i came here.” then what was once a lesson sessioin, turned into you explaining what you and the world was going through before coming to the sengoku, with many phrasings replaced of course.

“is that so. . .” he mutters, “i haven’t heard a case like this, although i don’t doubt there aren’t any. . .i should do some reasearches.. .”

“i-it’s fine, really. . .!”

you managed to convince him that it’s fiiine, he shouldn’t read up on it and just focus on his works (since it would render your story false pretty quickly,,).

“but you still haven’t explained how you got the injury.”

“oh yeah. i got kicked down by one of the guards and then i got this as a result.” you pointed at the covered up wound, now probably just a scar, on your cheek. mitsunari goes silent, then a slow and silent hum resonates in him.

you’ve never quite seen the look in his eyes as you did. they were sharper, even if you weren’t situated in a battlefield, and you could see the gears turn in his brain. for what, you’re not quite sure.

“mitsu,,,?”

and with just your voice, his clouded eyes clear up, and he sends his angelic smile your way, “it’s fine now, lady—” his voice rings gently like bells, “you’re now safer. .even if you want to go back there. but i’ll be here by your side to protect you always, so please remember.”

“. . .heh, alright. of course i will.”

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maddiethebull · 4 years

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Victor (MLQC) - Prompt #18 - “Here, like this.”

It was my birthday when I started writing this, so I thought it’d be fun to have it be the MC’s bday too! I included my great-grandfather Batuyong’s recipe for what Victor is cooking throughout the fic because I really like cooking and it’s what me and my mom made for my birthday dinner since we couldn’t go out this year, it was so fun making it that I thought I’d share it with anyone who’d like to try it :)

Thank you for making a request <3 Hope you enjoy it! Victor prompt #1 will be coming also.

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Light from the rising sun shone through the slats in your window shades, waking you up once that golden light reached your peacefully closed eyes. You rubbed your eyes and stretched, releasing one of those weird noises that people make when they stretch in the morning. You sat up in your bed, excited to start the day because it was your birthday! You had plans with a certain stubborn CEO and as soon as you thought of him a smile crept up to your lips. Victor decided to treat you to a home cooked meal that night, and after a lot of begging, he even agreed to let you help him this time. You were so excited to see that hot CEO/chef at work and be able to help him prepare dinner for the two of you to share. You had a wide grin slapped on your face, it was practically cemented into your facial features for the entire morning. You assumed it would take place at Souvenir just like your last birthday, but that morning you got a text from Victor that read,

“You’ll be coming to my house around 3, don’t forget an apron.”

Hmm?? You texted back,

“Your house?”

Within the minute Victor replied,

“I don’t need you damaging the kitchen at Souvenir. Happy Bday, dummy.”

You rolled your eyes, of course he’d say something like that.

After sending a thank you message you got ready for the day. It went by quick, you had breakfast and worked for an hour or two at your desk. You then had lunch with Anna, Minor, and Kiki, receiving some odd presents like the choker that matched Minor’s… a “best friend’s necklace” he told you. You had laughs and talked about your plans for later in the evening, Anna definitely hinting that you should make a move. Overall, a wonderful start and middle to the day which added to your excitement to see how the end of the day would go.

When you got home, you rummaged through your closet,

“Should I wear something fancy? But it's his house not a restaurant… Casual?” You said to yourself as you held some leggings up, “Hmm. That’s too casual. What do you even wear in a situation like this?” After pondering the etiquette of dinner parties and the casualty of one on one dinners at home, you decided on a good middle ground. You checked your phone and it was already 2:45.

“Oh shit!” You hurriedly shoved the things you needed into a bag and perhaps took longer than you should’ve deciding what shoes to wear. You rushed out the door then right back in. You’d forgotten an apron! You grabbed the first apron you saw hanging and ran out the door yet again and flagged down a cab with more intensity than needed. Luckily, you made it just in time, only five minutes late. But to Victor, five minutes late meant a headache for you. Images of an angry little chibi Victor flashed in your mind as you walked up the pathway to his house, bringing a smile to your face. ‘That’s exactly what he’s gonna look like when he answers,’ you thought. You rang the doorbell to his intimidatingly fancy house and waited. And waited a little more? After two minutes passed you got sort of worried, Victor is Mr. Punctual afterall, even texting he answers back within the minute. After another minute passed by, you decided to ring the doorbell again but as soon as your finger pressed the button, the door swung open to reveal Victor, the black long sleeve button up he always wore had two buttons undone at the top and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was a bit messy and the plain apron he wore had some stains on it as well as a bit of torn wrapping paper stuck to the string.

“Sorry I’m a little late, I-”

“You get a pass today. But don’t think that’ll ever happen again.”

“Sassy as ever, Mr. Victor,” you said grinning at him.

“A dummy as always,” he retorted at you, mirroring your grin “happy birthday,” he added on at the end. He showed you in and as you were putting your things on the couch he went to his room to retrieve a little something he wanted you to have. In his room, he finished wrapping a present that sat in a small box, hoping that you’d like it. He remembered that last year’s present didn’t go down as well as he thought it would, I mean, who wouldn’t like a fancy necklace? ‘You, I guess,’ he thought. In his defense, Victor grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, and living in the business world for so long, he ended up equating the meaningfulness of presents to their dollar value. He never thought once that you’d have a problem with it, but now he knew better, you showed him better and he was thankful for it, though he was sure he’d die before saying such a cheesy line out loud. He quickly placed a bow on top and smiled at the gift he held before bringing it out to you.

He presented you with the box and it was wrapped horrendously! You could see one corner of a box poking out, the paper was crumpled to hell and the bow was a stick on bow that was stuck slightly to the left. ‘Well, he can’t be good at everything, now can he?’

“Here, I got this for you.”

“Aw, thank you, Victor. I told you that you didn’t have to get me anything, though,” you said as you took the present from his outstretched hands.

“I wanted to. So now it's yours and you can’t give it back like you tried to last year.”

“Well yeah that's because you got me a necklace that cost like a million dollars!”

“It was NOT a million dollars… it was only a thousand.”

“Victor!”

“Just open your gift,” he said as a laugh rolled off his tongue, you were far too cute when you acted like this. He watched eagerly, only a hint of it showing on his face, as usual, but eagerly nonetheless. You tore the paper from the box and as soon as you read the brand on the small box, you gasped.

“I figured you’d like something tacky such as that,” the harshness of the comment diminished by the happy tone in his voice and the smug grin brightening his dark features.

It was a small cup with a picture of the both of you printed on it. It had dog ears drawn on you and cat ears and whiskers on Victor. Was it kind of lame? Yes, but you couldn’t care less. And did he ban you from taking it out of your house after you took it to his office the next day as he got blushed in the face? Most definitely.

With the goofiest grin, you thanked him again.

“It’s nothing,” he said back, but you both knew that it wasn’t. Though, you couldn’t care less if Victor said it out loud because the tender tone in his voice told you it all.

“You know, you’re rather handsome in this picture,” you told him while pointing to the cup, you added, “you should try cat ears more often,” as you let out a laugh.

With a chuckle, “I’ll get Goldman on that,” he replied as turned away and felt a blush rise to his cheeks and ears,

“We should get to the cooking now, I already began prior to your arrival.”

As the two of you walked to the kitchen you asked what was on the menu for tonight,

“Filet mignon,” he told you as you instantly smelled the most delicious aroma, your tongue tingled just thinking about how good it would taste.

You let out an involuntary “Mmmmm,” as you looked at the food around you with excitement in your eyes and a smug grin on the CEO’s lips.

“Let’s get started, shall we? Where’s your apron?” he asked.

“Oh, I forgot to grab it from the living room, I’ll go do that and you can start cooking again.”

“Hurry up, you’re the one who wanted to cook so badly.”

You went to grab your apron and when you picked it up, you realized you’d grabbed one that had ‘kiss the cook’ written on it in bold red letters. You mentally prepared yourself for some kind of sarcastic comment from Victor as you put it on and went towards the kitchen.

You donned your “kiss the cook” apron and as soon as Victor saw it he began laughing, his baritone voice echoing through the kitchen.

“How very forward of you,” he said, not being able to stifle his laugh, and a sly look in his dark black eyes.

“It’s the only one I had!”

With a chuckle he looked away and to the food,

“Okay, if you say so.”

You playfully hit him on the shoulder and he began to talk about what to do.

You watched as he prepared the food and helped him do various things along the way, mostly, though, you washed and chopped vegetables and fixed your gaze on the man beside you. Oh lord, was he attractive when he was focused. He was all tall and dark haired with those steely eyes and-

“Focus, don’t hurt yourself.”

Immediately pulled out of your daydreams by Mr. Punctual himself. You sighed and kept up chopping and helping him season and thensome.

When Victor put the filet in the oven to bake for a while, he decided to open some wine. The both of you sipped and sipped till your glasses were empty and the scent of the cooking steak filled your senses. After about half an hour he took the tenderloin out and moved it to a chopping board, slicing into those familiar filet mignon steaks. You couldn’t help but get closer, it looked so delicious that your mouth was clearly watering. You poked your head by his bicep and he paused.

“Do you want to try?”

His deep voice took you back to reality.

“Of course I do!” you said as you eagerly took the knife from him and lined yourself up with the cutting board. You sliced one, well, half of one before he had already stopped you,

“Here, like this,” he said as he approached you from behind, the cedarwood scent of his cologne enveloping you along with the warmth from his body. He stood much taller than you as he put your hands into his, showing you how to hold the knife in a way you wouldn’t knick yourself by letting it slip. His hands were warm and soft as his slender fingers removed your pointer finger from the top of the knife’s handle and moved it to the side, leaving his hand on top of yours in that position. You could barely focus on the instructions he was giving you, not with the butterflies in your stomach making flight to crowd your mind. You couldn’t tell if it was the heat from the oven that had filled the room or heat from a blush that warmed your cheeks in that moment. He began cutting the meat, pressing his hand firmly into yours as he leaned his head beside your own so he could properly see what he was doing. You couldn’t help but take a peek at this incredibly handsome man whose face was now only inches from your own with his body pressed behind you. His black hair stuck to the light sweat forming on his temples and a small grin took place on his lips, he looked to you and in a light tone he asked,

“Do you plan on looking at me the whole time?”

Flustered, you immediately took your eyes off him and continued slicing. With his opal eyes fixed on you there was only one thought on his mind, he was, in fact, rather very close to his rather, very attractive dummy. With his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his heartbeat speed up just before he backed away, saying,

“Looks like you’ve got it now. I’ll get the pan ready next.”

He walked toward the cabinets and took out a frying pan. After he panfried it and took the sides from their pots, he plated it to look all perfect and beautiful like you were in a Michelin star restaurant, finally, it was ready to eat!

He poured some wine all handsomely and gentlemanly and finally sat down and you two began eating, you were excited and took a bite.

“How is it?” he asked as his dark eyes focused on you.

You know how some people say that the right food tastes like home? That’s exactly what you tasted, it was only a bite of steak but it flooded your mind with memories of Victor, the times he’d cooked for you at Souvenir, the times that you saw him take lingering glances your way, the times that he made your heart flutter like a teenage girl’s; they all flashed in your mind, the times that had established such a feeling of home but not in a house, instead those feelings manifesting in the man who sat in front of you. Maybe it was the candlelight reflecting like a setting sun onto the table or perhaps you’d drunk more wine before dinner than you should’ve, but something filled your emotions to a tipping point and tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

His face contorted to pure shock,

“IS IT THAT BAD????”

Laughter fell off your lips to resonate off the walls in the dining room,

“No, it's positively the best food I’ve ever had.”

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Hope you liked it! There’s more to come!

Recipe: Filet Mignon! (you can also just use the marinade for a cheaper cut of meat and make a different steak)

Ingredients Needed

What Kind of Meat: A tenderloin is the cut for filet mignon, its expensive no matter what but buying it at a general ask the butcher if they can put the butcher’s twine on the meat for you (Butcher’s twine is so that the long cut of meat can cook evenly if cooked in the oven.) and if they can trim the fat for you if you don’t know how or you just don’t want to lol.

Marinade:

1 & ½ cups of olive oil

1 cup of soy sauce (I recommend the kikkoman brand.)

1 cup of Worcester sauce

1 head of thinly sliced garlic garlic

1 tablespoon of ground black pepper

1 tablespoon of oregano

1 tablespoon of basil (Full leaves are okay but it’s much easier to measure when it's crushed.)

1 tablespoon of lemon juice

Let’s Cook! (if you’re inexperienced or younger, then please have an adult who is fit to help’s supervision, we don’t want anyone getting hurt afterall!)

*NOTE: Leave the butcher’s twine on until the tenderloin is fully cooked to your taste and out of the oven and has cooled down (please don’t burn yourselves!!)*

Mix the liquid Marinade ingredients into a bowl or pan large enough to fit the cut of tenderloin.

Season the tenderloin with the non liquid ingredients (i.e. the basil and stuff, you can adjust the seasonings to your taste as well as the size of the cut of meat.)

Place the meat into the marinade and put in the fridge to let it marinate for at least 3-4 hours.

After marinating, preheat the oven to 400 degrees fahrenheit.

Place the meat into a metal baking pan large enough to fit it without the edges of the meat touching the sides of the pan. Remember, that butcher’s twine should still be on the meat.

Place it in the oven (while wearing oven mitts) and cook until it fits your tastes. (The oven’s rack should be on the middle or one lower than the middle rung.)

For a small cut that’s about 2-3 pounds: 35 to 40 minutes in the oven should get it to medium rare, and 45 to 50 minutes to get it to medium.

For a larger cut that’s about 4-5 pounds: 50 to 60 minutes in the oven should get it to medium rare, and 60 to 70 minutes to get it to medium.

When your tenderloin is done cooking, turn the oven off and carefully take it out of the oven (Again, with oven mitts please don't get burned.) and place the pan on a heat safe surface (I always just put it on top of the oven.) and CAREFULLY put foil to cover the pan while the tenderloin cools down. Use your oven mitt to do this to ensure you don’t get burned. This step is to ensure a juicy steak, it traps the steam in the pan and thus doesn't let the meat dry out.

Finally, when the meat has sufficiently cooled down, you can remove it from the pan and place onto a chopping board.

Cut (with an adult who is fit to help, if you’re younger) the tenderloin with a large kitchen knife, into however many pieces you want, though cutting it into too thick pieces would make more of a building shape on your plate lol, we want to avoid that.

At the end it should be circular cuts of steak.

The Last Step:

To finish cooking the tops and bottoms of those circular cuts, get a cooking pan and turn on one of the stovetop burners to low.

Pour canola oil in the pan immediately (about enough to cover the bottom of the pan) and turn the heat to medium. When small bubbles form in the oil, then you’re ready to put the meat in.

*NOTE: if the stove is too hot, the oil will start to burn, make sure that the oil is not excessively steaming because if it is, you’re burning it.*

Place each slice of the meat into your pan with tongs and sear it for around a minute or until it has browned to about the same color as the sides, then CAREFULLY flip the piece with your tongs and repeat on the other side until done. When each piece you cook is done, make sure to take it out of the pan and place it on a heat safe plate.

If you have many pieces, you might have to add more oil in the pan. When you add more oil, make sure that A) there isn’t any meat in the pan and B) that you’ve turned the heat down in order to assure you don’t get splattered with hot oil. Pour the oil in when the pan is cooled down a little and then turn the heat back up and wait for the bubbles in the oil. Once the oil looks ready again, you can continue cooking.

After you’re finished searing the pieces of meat, turn the stove top off and plate the steak with tongs and add whatever side dishes you like.

And voila! You have your fanfic filet mignon! You can thank my Great-Grandpa Batuyong and Grandma Batuyong as well as my Momma for the recipe. :)

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fullbeaumonty · 5 years

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Ten Lords A-Leaping (Or, in this Case, One Excited Duke)

This is my contribution to the 12 Days of Cordonian Christmas for Day 10 - Ten Lords A-Leaping!

Pairing: Maxwell x Lydia, Lydia and Joni (OC friend)

Word Count: ~4,500

Rating: Let’s call it PG for language. This is pure fluff, though.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Joni and Oliver.

Author’s Note: I’ve wondered about the friends that our transplanted MCs left behind - in New York in the case of TRR. Certainly she had friends and I’ll bet they miss each other and find ways to stay in touch across the miles. For this story and in my universe, I gave my beloved Lydia a dear friend from back home named Joni (whom Lydia sometimes calls Jones as a nickname). Inspiration for this story and a moodboard are at the bottom - they’d give too much away if I put them here!

To my own real-life Joni - you already know this story is a Christmas gift for you. Your friendship is a gift in my life, as well as the million and a half things I’ve learned from you and the endless encouragement and insight you’ve given me. If I could knit, I would knit you a squid scarf that I’m certain you would wear with Maxwell levels of pride. You deserve that and so much more. I love you.

12 Days Tag List: @ao719 @blackwidow2721 @bobasheebaby @brightpinkpeppercorn @fullbeaumonty @hopefulmoonobject @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @leelee10898 @riseandshinelittleblossom @speedyoperarascalparty @kenjikatsoros @zaffrenotes @mind-reader1 @cocomaxley, @blackcoffee85 @likethetailofacomet @endlessly-searching-for-you @tornbetween2loves

Personal Tag List: @breaumonts, @thedepthsremember, @ritachacha, @hellospunkiebrewster, @alj4890, @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul, @littlecrookedheart

Up next for Day 11 is @itsstillnotwhatyouthink!

*********

She’d started the project with an Etsy-purchased pattern and a dream, no experience and little more for inspiration than a long-forgotten comment he’d probably just said to make her laugh in the moment. But Lydia listens, and moreover, she thinks, mental gears in constant motion. She’d tucked that idea away until she realized as the leaves began to turn that she should probably get started on such an ambitious project if it was going to be done in time for Christmas.

There was so much joy in the activity then, tools and supplies hidden away in a box, in a drawer, in a rarely-used room, every caution taken to be sure this would always remain a surprise. But that was before the twenty YouTube tutorials (“...for absolute beginners, my ass!”), the half-dozen failed cast-ons and dozen and a half restarts when she had to pull everything apart and start over to fix yet another mistake. It’s late November and the project she can see so clearly in her mind is little more than a heap of mottled red yarn on her lap.

She stares out the window at the distant mountains, trying to calm herself through her frustration. Checking her phone, she does some quick mental time zone math to be sure it’s not too early on the East Coast before sending a message to Joni, who not only knew how to knit but also always knew how to make her feel as though she could take on the world. And if the world was in her reach, certainly this project was as well.

After a few moments, the phone screen lights up, and Lydia smiles.

*********

They have no shortage of friends - noble, common, or otherwise - but every once in a while she still feels the pang of missing her friends back in the States. Just because this is a wonderful, charmed life doesn’t negate the fact that she left another life behind that had its own positives. Thank goodness for messaging apps and Pictagram to keep her far-away friends feeling at least a little closer.

The familiar tri-tone ring of Skype fills the quiet of the room before her dear friend’s face pops up on the laptop’s screen, pixelating for a moment, then returning. Joni grins and squeals, “Lyddie!” and the smile Lydia returns as she waves at her friend hurts her cheeks, but it’s accompanied by the tangible ebbing away of her earlier frustration.

“It’s so good to see you! You look great! New hair?”

“Of course! I loved the lavender, but it fades so quickly.”

“Well, that shade of red is perfect for you.” Lydia pulls her long brunette waves over one shoulder. “Still plain Jane brown over here.”

Joni waves her off. “Hush, you’re gorgeous.” She props herself up on her elbows on the desk and smiles at Lydia. “I miss you, Lyd. But it looks like royal life is treating you well.”

“We’re nobility, my friend, not royalty. Big difference.”

“Yeah, huge.” Joni laughs and Lydia joins her, happy just to see her friend. It’s not the quiet coffee shop filled with hipsters writing manuscripts where they were used to meeting, but right now, it’s a close second.

“So…” Joni rubs her hands together excitedly. “You want some help to knit a scarf, huh?” Lydia nods, looking down from the camera for a moment to email her a link to the picture and pattern. Joni’s smile fades as her jaw drops slowly and her eyes go wide as she scans the instructions. “I thought you were trying to knit a scarf scarf, as in, a very long rectangle. I figured maybe you were being ambitious with something like a cable knit and it was giving you trouble. This is…” she trails off for a moment. “I mean, it’s doable, but it’s another level. And you’ve never knitted before?”

She shakes her head. “Never.”

“You never did things by half measures, either, Lyd.” Joni looks up from the pattern, brow furrowed. “I’ll help you the best I can, but I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea how to change yarns like that.”

“Jones,” she sighs, “I don’t even know what ‘changing yarns’ means. I’m in way, way over my head.” She lifts the tangled pile of yarn so Joni can see it on her own screen. Her friend pulls a face when she sees the mess. “I know, right? Yikes.”

“Yikes,” Joni agrees.

Lydia watches in silence as Joni reads the instructions in detail, squinting at the screen and silently mouthing a phrase here and there. Anxiety creeps back in by the moment. Maybe this was impossible. She hates that word, but she also hates the fact that she’s had this in mind for the better part of a year and it’s now exactly one month to Christmas, with no end in sight for the project.

Finally, Joni looks up at her again. “You know what, I love a good challenge. I can’t exactly teach you more than the basics, because most of this is all new to me, but I’ll learn along with you and we can knit this thing together. What do you think?”

Lydia can’t speak for the lump in her throat, but her smile and nod say “thank you” for her.

*********

Joni is exceedingly patient, more patient than Lydia would be if the tables were turned, as she teaches her the essentials of knitting.

“Okay, basic knit stitch. Bring this needle up into the first stitch, behind your left-hand needle. Wrap the yarn between the two needles, counter-clockwise for you since you’re looking down on it, then pull that strand through the stitch. Angle the needle downward if you need to, like this.” She holds her needles up to the camera and slowly goes through the motions again as a visual. Lydia nods and tries it herself. “We’re going to knit this row and purl the next one, okay? The instructions say to count 66 stitches for each.”

If these are the same instructions given by strangers on the many YouTube videos she’d watched over the past month of confusion and frustration, she wouldn’t know. She makes mistakes. She needs several steps repeated. She unravels parts of her work in frustration and begins again. But now she understands. Maybe all it took was the encouragement of a familiar voice. It’s amazing to look down and finally see progress.

The two friends talk while they knit, more words spoken aloud between them in these few weeks than in the past year and a half. Theirs is an odd relationship, friends who met online as strangers through a shared interest years ago, happily discovering over time that they lived relatively close to one another. In what feels like a former life now, they would meet halfway for coffee every few months for marathon chats and so much laughter. She’s grateful for text messages, but her heart twists for a moment when she glances up at the screen, watching her friend skillfully knit while she tells a story about the customers at her job. Lydia simply wishes she could hug her again.

It has always amazed and delighted her that she seems to learn something new about life, the world, or herself after a conversation with Joni. She’s learning about stockinette and right-leaning stitches, purl-wise and knit-wise and bind-offs, of course, but as the scarves take shape, their discussions deepen beyond even the light conversation between dear friends to fears, futures, and more.

Lydia shares stories of the animals in the menagerie and Joni shakes her head and laughs over Maxwell’s peacock obsession. (“Did I tell you about the time he officiated a peacock wedding?”) They ponder whether Joni’s boyfriend James will pop the question any time soon (“If he does, I hope he doesn’t do it at Christmas, that’s so cliche.”) and sometimes Lydia calls out a hello to him as he walks through the room in the background. (“Say hi to Max for me!” “You can text him yourself, you know!”)

As they start in on knitting the many stitches of the long, long tentacles, Joni asks about their corgi. “So you just have Wigglesworth, then? I’m really surprised that a couple with a panther, pandas, and a pride of peafowl only has one pet in the house.” They look up at each other and laugh at her unintentional alliteration.

Lydia’s smile is wistful and her hands still for a moment. “You know, I realized recently...now that we’re settled in here, it feels strange not to have a cat or two padding around. I’ve always had a cat. It was...just…” She takes a deep breath. “Charlie died eight days before I met the guys. The apartment was so lonely without him, and so sad. It made the decision all that much easier when Maxwell asked me to come to Cordonia with him. I wasn’t leaving anything behind, really.” She looks up at Joni quickly in the camera and waves her hand awkwardly. “I mean, I left you, of course. And Daniel. I do hope he’s okay. But...you knew what I meant, right?”

Joni smiles. “I knew what you meant.”

“So how’s your sweet little feline?”

She angles the laptop screen downward to show the old grey tabby asleep on her lap, completely unfazed by the yarn around him as he purrs in his sleep. “He’s sweet, but not so little. And he’s great. 12 this year.” She scratches behind his ears and smooths her hand across his fur affectionately. “I’m sure any man who saves a stray corgi off the street - which I still think is unbelievable, Lyd - and adopts two wild red pandas for you as a gift would love a few cats running around that big place with you. Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

Lydia recounts her stitches, having lost her place while lost in thought, and continues knitting. “I will, thanks.” She gives Joni a half-smile. “Crazy cat ladies unite, right?”

“Hell yes”

********

There are several close calls during this clandestine crafting operation. Once, retreating quickly, quietly, from her designated knitting room toward the end of the hall, she’d come upon him backing out of another rarely-used guest room and shrieked in surprise and fright in the shadowy hallway.

He’d jumped back against the door, hand still grasping the doorknob. “Whoa, Lyd, watch it! You’ll scare…” Catching himself, he’d paused for one long beat. “…everyone.”

“Who is everyone?” Still clutching her chest above her racing heart, she’d looked around the empty corridor, silent but for the sound of her pulse roaring in her ears. Before thinking, she’d asked, “And what are you doing up here?”

“What are you doing up here?”

Shit.

Knowing there was no use attempting even a white lie to her ever-perceptive husband, she’d decided quickly on an evasive truth. Hands up in surrender, she’d leveled with him. “It’s Christmas, Max. You can have your secrets, and I’ll have mine. Deal?”

“Deal,” he’d responded, satisfied.

Joni looked at her quizzically when they’d connected for a knitting session several days later. “Are you in a different room today?” she’d asked, as they each got out their white yarn and started in on the difficult task of stitching the eyes.

With less than two weeks to Christmas and so much work put into this surprise already, Lydia couldn’t be too careful.

*******

The suckers nearly do her in. After two days of working on them, not one is truly circular, and none are spaced correctly. Lydia finally throws down her needles and yarn in a frustrated huff, screeching in a manner rather unbefitting a duchess, “This is bullshit! Why did I ever think this was a good idea?”

Joni, who has been the model of patience so far in this endeavor, looks up from her perfect row of suckers two tentacles ahead and levels a stern gaze at her, gesturing with one needle toward the camera. “Because that man is honestly such a good, he changed your life forever and he deserves this insane scarf at the absolute least and the world at most. Because it’s your first Christmas together and this is worth it, I promise. Because you’re incredible and you can do anything you put your mind to, and I know you know that. Do you need more reasons? I have more.”

She shakes her head no and picks up the project again, simultaneously cowed and calmed, giving her friend a small smile as she counts the stitches to the placement of the next sucker. “Thanks, Jones,” she says quietly.

Joni returns her smile. “Anytime.” Looking back down at the yarn in her hands, she asks brightly, “So what do you think Maxwell got you for Christmas?”

********

Finally, finally, the project is complete. It’s a woeful imitation of the pattern’s accompanying example photo, but it’s done, and it’s clearly a squid, so that’s really all that matters at this point. Joni completed her scarf several days ago and has so far spent this knitting session sharing her tips and tricks for finishing up the stitches and making sure everything is in place. Lydia’s not sure everything actually is in place, but Christmas is four days away and when she holds the scarf up, nothing falls off. She and Joni both decide on success.

“You know, this may be the coolest scarf I’ve ever knitted...the coolest thing I’ve ever knitted! It’s certainly the most interesting one I’ve ever owned! The most flair I’ve ever added until now was tassels along the edge.” Joni’s smile is bright and genuine, clearly proud of both of them. “This is a real accomplishment for me - I can’t imagine how you must feel!”

“I feel like I can’t thank you enough.”

Joni waves her hand at the camera. “You’re welcome, of course, but hey, I learned something new. That’s never a bad thing. And this time together…” She shakes her head slightly and trails off for a moment, collecting herself before looking back up. “I’ve missed you, Lyd.”

She swallows against the lump in her throat and smiles at her friend. “Me too. I think we’re overdue for a trip to New York. But you and James are always welcome here!” She gestures toward the room behind her. “We have twenty-two guest rooms just waiting for guests!” Thinking a moment, she amends, “Well, nineteen. One is Wigglesworth’s room, we just started working on the ball pit room I promised Maxwell, and I think this one will become my knitting room.”

“Hey, I know!” Joni exclaims, face lit up with excitement. “We can keep doing this! Not inordinately difficult squid scarves, obviously, but if you actually enjoy knitting, we can meet up this way to work on our projects together. Like a little knitting club! But we need a name…”

Lydia delivers her suggestion proudly as though it’s a royal decree. “We shall henceforth be known as the Knit-wits!”

“Oh, come on,” Joni groans. She shakes her head but can’t hide her smile. “Does Max appreciate your ridiculous puns?”

“Jones, you have no idea.”

********

She’d spent so much time researching how to knit before finally asking an expert that almost all her personalized ads on Pictagram are now knitting-related. She’s scrolling through idly at her desk in a quiet moment to herself when she comes across the perfect gift for her friend - a black t-shirt printed with a lovely woman whose hair is made of multicolored yarn, knitting needles sticking out at odd angles for hairpins, a beatific smile on her face as she reaches up with scissors to snip off a section. The fact that it says Yarn Goddess is the icing on the cake.

She orders it immediately, giddy with excitement. It won’t quite make it to New York by Christmas, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

********

The gift-giving portion of this lovely, quiet Christmas morning is wrapping up. New clothes - including several lacy pieces for Lydia - have been tried on and modeled, a small pile of items both fun and practical sit on the coffee table in front of them, and new books are stacked on the floor. Paper and bows are strewn everywhere. They’ve gone through half a box of tissues between them (“We’re ridiculous, you know that? What couple cries this much on Christmas morning?”) as gifts both special and simply surprising have been opened.

Maxwell is currently at the Christmas tree, giving his latest gift pride of place front and center. As he finds just the right spot for the ornament, she reaches up again to touch her new necklace - a simple aquamarine solitaire, so beautiful it needs no extravagant setting. The stone is a hue-perfect reminder of the crystalline ocean outside their honeymoon villa, a blissful memory in gemstone form. She watches him hold the ornament in the palm of his hand for just a moment after he hangs it on the tree, looking at it once more, and her chest tightens with emotion. She honestly never knew she could love someone so much.

He doesn’t even bother with a tissue this time, wiping his eyes with his hand as he flops back down on the sofa next to her, their knees touching on the center cushion. She smiles softly at him, thrilled that one of the gifts she was most excited to give him this morning had obviously hit its mark.

“Where did you even find that, Lyd? It’s amazing. Perfect.”

“Ah, Americans love to personalize things. We’ll personalize anything if it has enough space to write a name. And never underestimate the power of Google...though finding an ornament with a hippo couple under the mistletoe does seem like serendipity.” She looks over to the ornament on the tree, the branches sparkling even in the bright light of late morning. “But we know a thing or two about serendipity, don’t we?”

“We do,” he responds quietly, leaning back against the cushion with a smile. She’s eager to share his final gift with him, but she can’t resist scooting across the sofa to curl against his side. With his arms around her, it feels like a warm cocoon of holiday contentment. Breathing in his scent, listening to his heart beat, his hand combing gently through her hair, she could so easily fall asleep. The scarf was three months in the making, after all; it could wait another hour. Wigglesworth waddles over from his plush new dog bed and hops up on the sofa with them to join in the cuddling. After a few minutes, Maxwell breaks the cozy silence. “I still have one more gift for you.”

She looks up at him. “I do, too.”

“Oh! You first!”

Laughing at his renewed Christmas excitement, she reluctantly disentangles herself from him and gets up to grab the final gift package beneath the tree and places it in his lap. He tears at the paper until the mottled red blob of yarn is revealed, eyes widening as he lifts it up to see it in its full glory.

Lydia can see every imperfection in the stitching - the fact that two random tentacles are the better part of a foot longer than the other six, the eyes are too far apart and not even close to level, and one tentacle somehow ended up with three less suckers than the rest. But Maxwell runs his hand across the soft yarn with a look of awe, his grin brightening as he takes it all in.

“This is...where did you even get...wait, did you make this?” His wide eyes meet hers and she nods. “I didn’t know you could knit!”

“I didn’t either!” she laughs, “I mean, I learned. Joni taught me, actually.”

He’s already wrapping it around his neck as he asks, “How long did it take? It’s really...wow.”

She thinks back. “A little over three months.”

Suddenly her vision is filled with a swirl of knitted tentacles as he pounces across the sofa onto her. “Hey, one lord a-leaping! Careful!” But she’s laughing as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and gazes up at him, his eyes glistening again as he grins down at her.

“Three months? I can’t believe you took the time to make this for me. I can’t believe you remembered a dumbass comment I made almost a year ago. I...”

She cuts him off with a kiss. “Believe it,” she murmurs against his lips, before she pulls him closer, the tentacles between them draped softly around her shoulders.

Several long moments later, he pulls away with obvious reluctance and moves to sit up again. “Stay here, Christmas blossom. I’ll be right back.”

She watches him through the doorway as he hurries through the grand hall and past his namesake statue, who is currently wreathed along with his horse in Christmas boughs instead of the laurels of victory. She laughs to herself watching him bound up the stairs two at a time.

A few minutes later, he returns with a large gift box in his arms, adorned with a massive bow and making a...was that a scratching sound? She looks at him quizzically.

And then the contents of the box meow.

He sets the package on her lap and slowly lifts the lid, a tiny pink nose peeking through first, followed by two ginger paws, and then a third. Suddenly the kitten leaps from the box onto her chest, digging in his little claws and mewing loudly. Wigglesworth jumps down from the sofa and retreats to his dog bed, deciding it best to watch this scene unfold from afar. She wraps her hand around the kitten and carefully removes his claws from her pajama top. Holding him against her shoulder with both hands to calm him, she gazes down through her tears at his sweet ginger face before looking up at her husband. She couldn’t speak right now if she tried.

He pulls two tissues from the box on the coffee table and hands her both, taking the kitten from her to give her a chance to blow her nose.

As she wipes her eyes, Lydia watches as he holds the kitten to his scarf-covered chest, tiny claws snagging the stitches she so meticulously placed. But the kitten is the spitting image of her Charlie, and Molly before him - a beautiful ginger tabby with distinctly-striped legs and a ringed tail - and Maxwell is looking down at him with so much joy and love. Worrying about pulled stitches seems to be a waste in this happy moment.

He looks up at her with a hopeful expression in his eyes. “Do you...like him?”

“I love him, Max.” She reaches over to stroke down the kitten’s back and along his tiny tail. “I’m wondering how you got a cat in here without me knowing, but I love him.” Maxwell hands the kitten back to her and she holds him up to her face, touching her nose to his. He mews at her and rubs his face against her cheek. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“Well, the lady I adopted him from was calling him Oliver, so that’s what I’ve been calling him, too.”

Realization dawns on her. “Have you been keeping him in that guest bedroom in the west hallway?”

He nods, smiling. “We have a kitten room and you didn’t even know it!” Reaching over to give the kitten a scritch under his chin, he says, “Is the name okay? You can change it if you want.”

She brings the little feline up to her face again. “What do you think, my tiny pumpkin pie? Are you an Oliver?” she asks the cat.

Oliver responds with a loud mew.

She grins at her husband, who is proudly wearing the most ridiculous scarf on the planet.

“Welcome to our crazy family, Oliver.”

********

She’s just popped the top on a can of wet cat food, Oliver mewing near her feet and attempting to scale the leg of her jeans with his tiny kitten claws, when a member of the staff enters the kitchen with the mail. A puffy manila envelope rests on top. Lydia thanks him with a warm smile that grows wider when she sees the New York return address and familiar handwriting. Suddenly equally as excited for the mysterious package as Oliver is about his dinner, she fills his bowl to calm his insistent mews and sets about shredding the adhesive holding the envelope closed.

Tears spring to her eyes as she immediately recognizes the soft blues and greys of the yarn she’s seen in her friend’s hands over the past month of video chats. The tentacles on this scarf are of equal lengths, the eyes are set parallel, the suckers are evenly spaced. It’s obviously a superior version of the one Lydia gave Maxwell several days prior, but made with an equal amount of love. She knows because she watched its creation.

Wiping the tears from her eyes as she wraps the scarf around her neck, she pulls the tentacles of one side through the little knitted loop behind the squid’s face that gave them each so much grief. She laughs remembering their shared frustration and notes that the loop Joni knitted in looks far sturdier than the one she struggled over herself. She looks down at the delightfully silly squid face staring out from her chest and finally notices the note safety-pinned halfway down one long tentacle.

I hope you wear this in good health and so much happiness, no matter what you do or where you go.

Be amazing.

Be badass.

Be kind.

Be you.

I love you. - Joni

Lydia’s heart squeezes in her chest and fresh tears fill her eyes. It’s amazing, she thinks, how this little crafting adventure to create something special for the love of her life also brought her closer to a far-away friend. The whole thing began and ended with love.

Just then, Maxwell walks into the room, inexplicably wearing his own squid scarf indoors. He bends to give Oliver a few scritches while he eats, errant tentacles dragging on the floor momentarily, before he catches sight of his wife behind the island. He sees her tears first and concern crosses his face before she smiles and waves it off. “I’m fine. Happy tears,” she promises, wiping her eyes with one soft tentacle.

He nods and gives her an understanding half-smile, leaning back against the counter before he reaches for her scarf in surprise. “Hey! We match!”

We complement, she thinks, her scarf a mix of the cool blue of a buoyant ocean and the soft steel grey of the sky after a storm at sea.

She simply agrees, however, as she stands on tiptoes in her bare feet and reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck. “I like it that way.”

“Me too,” he says quietly, smiling.

She presses her chest to his, the two squids kissing just a moment before their wearers do.

********

And of course, my inspiration came directly from canon:

The poor man never got his jello shots at the wedding, but the least I can do is get him that squid scarf.

#12 days of cordonian christmas #maxwell x lydia #my otp owns a piece of my heart #lydia and joni are pals #trr #merry christmas!#the fluffiest of fluff #maxwell x mc #mc x maxwell #the royal romance #fan fiction #long post

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mahalidael · 7 years

Text

Sparkboys #2: A Roof Redneck Offers Me Brownies

Content warning: Profanity, drug mentions, screaming rednecks.

The polls are in and the polls want Murphy! Buckle up, buttercups, because Murphy ain’t done falling into this vortex of terror.

My tablet is on the road to recovery, so if the guys from Best Buy pull through, you might be seeing chapter art for each of these.

(Chapter 1)

“They’re staring at us.”

“Yeah, because you broke into a goddamn bathroom stall,” Jacob replied through a mouthful of shrimp. “Anybody reasonable’ld be starin’ at you.”

Picture this: you’ve got a scrawny looking kid with a bad dye job, a ratty hoodie, and the beginnings of a nosebleed. You’ve got a linebacker who’s been beat to hell and dunked in water. Put them in the same restaurant booth. That’s what was going on.

We figured we were both hungry, and that nobody would bother us if we sat together. Jacob looked socially pathetic, but he was still a whole lot of dude, and I was sure I would be eternally branded the Crazy Toilet Guy™, but at least no one would fuck with me.

The ideal football player looks like an all-American boy. Jacob looked like somebody who mugged all-American boys in a dark alley. Maybe the black eye was part of it (lord knows how that happened), maybe the piercings was part of it (earrings, nose stud, the whole works), but mostly he was just moody-looking. If Allison thought I was scowling, she should have gotten a load of this guy.

“Nah, they were already staring when I first came in…” I was looking out the window, pretending not to notice the gawkers. The outlet looked creepy, though I imagine it looked better in daylight. I thought of the people who were whispering Allison’s name. “Does it have anything to do with Dr. Allison?”

Jacob jumped a little, as if stabbed. “Why’d you think that?”

“Well, you seemed surprised when you read my texts. Come to think of it—thank you,” I said to the waitress, who put two drinks down. She, too, gave me a bit of a stink-eye. “—everyone seems to know who she is.”

Jacob took some sugar packets from the little tray on the table and started dumping them in his drink. I eyed the reddish-brown drinks cautiously—I had been getting my food while the waitress was at the booth, letting Jacob order drinks for both of us. He looked at me, lit up with curiosity. “What’s she to you?”

“Eh, she’s my mother,” I said evenly.

“You call your mother by her last name?”

“Fostered.”

“Oh. Like… real recently?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?” I took a tiny sip of the drink. It already tasted like sugar. I couldn’t understand why Jacob was putting more in it.

“Sweet tea.”

“What?”

“The drinks. You were starin’ at ‘em like they were gonna bite you,” he chuckled, low. Masculine. I made a note to work on my laugh. “But Dr. Allison has a strange reputation in this town. We know maybe one thing about her, and it’s that she’s a doctor.”

“Robot scientist. Roboticist?”

“Really?”

“It’s what the social worker said.”

“Man, I knew she had to be doin’ somethin’ with all that sheet metal. My dad works at Lowe’s,” Jacob added. “Her neighbors swear up and down that she’s an organ trafficker.”

I picked at my dumplings uncomfortably—and there’s something strangely comforting about how, no matter where they are or what the sign says, Chinese restaurants will always serve dumplings. “Why?”

“Uh, foreign people showing up at her doorstep with briefcases. Strange noises from her house at night. General weirdness. But mostly because she don’t talk to anyone.”

“What, that’s an issue?”

“Ev’ryone knows ev’ryone in Cottonport. Nobody knows Allison—‘cept you, I suppose.” He got very quiet. “How is it?”

“The sweet tea, or Allison?”

“Both.”

“The tea’s sweet. Allison’s… I don’t know. I haven’t been there long enough to really have an opinion,” I admitted.

The waitress came back with the check and two fortune cookies. I was glad that I was at a buffet, otherwise she might’ve spat in my food. I looked over the restaurant again. The other teenagers had gotten bored of us, and instead, their eyes were on two women in suits speaking to the cashier. Local lesbians, I guessed.

I offered to pick up the check. At the same time, Jacob offered to pick up the check. “Dude, seriously, let me handle it, you’re already putting up with the town witch—”

“You were in a toilet when I met you, you don’t get to feel sorry for me—!”

“Lemme be nice to you!”

“Never!”

This was the first in what would prove to be a friendship full of arguments.

We ended up splitting it halfway. I still think I should have covered the whole check, especially since I got an extra box for Allison. Maybe if I gave her enough food she’d let me keep my kidneys.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

“You’ll have to tell me where to turn.”

Sitting in Jacob’s car was way more calming than I thought a ride with a stranger would be. It helps that his car looks like a mom car. You know those cars that you always see a million of at a carpool? That exact car.

I racked—wracked? Raked? I can never get those words straight—my brain, trying to remember where my house was. “Uh, turn left here.”

I’m not a fan of the suburbs at the best of times, but when I see a quiet neighborhood at night, my fight or flight instinct goes off. It was pitch dark, except maybe one or two streetlights. It was dark in Jacob’s car, too, but a nice dark. Allison’s takeout box burned in my lap. I hoped she liked fried rice.

Jacob kept driving down the winding roads as I tried to direct him. The poor guy, he was doing his best, but I wasn’t paying attention on my way in the first time. We were both thinking that we were lost but we were also both too busy wallowing in social anxiety to voice that.

We had been driving for about ten minutes when I looked at something on the side of the road and said “what’s that.”

At that point I knew we were Lost As Fuck, because this street had some odd houses. I knew what a McMansion looked like, but these weren’t really big enough to be mansions, they were just… Mc. But as much of a hot mess as these houses were, I was focusing on the moving light on top of the house.

“What’s what—wait,” Jacob said, slowing down. “What is that?”

It looked like somebody was waving a flashlight on the roof, though it was too dark for me to make out anything else. “Fuck if I know. You’ve got the good eyes.”

Jacob stopped the car and stared at the roof for a good moment. The syrupy light calmed down, apparently done with spinning around. “Is that—oh my god, it’s Rebecca!”

I squinted at the roof, still seeing nothing. “Who’s Rebecca?”

“The only person who’d climb onto a roof in the middle of the night, that’s who.” He covered his mouth, his eyebrows coming together. “Damn, what’s she even doing here?” He asked himself. “I thought her dad moved to Tacoma.”

Then the flashlight was aimed at the car. Jacob ducked like it was a gun. “Get down!”

I automatically bent over as far as the box would allow, and only afterwards did I realize I had no clue what this was about. “What? What’s going on?”

The beam was pointed through the car window. From the distance, I heard a girl shouting: “Jacob? Is that you?”

Jacob shushed me. “You can’t let her know I’m here!”

“I know you’re in there, silly, you left your headlights on!” Rebecca drawled. She also had an accent, but it was softer, I think? She sounded like that Gone With the Wind chick, which I think she’d find ironic.

Jacob groaned, sat up, and rolled down his window. “Don’t mind me, Rebecca, I’m just passin’ through!”

“Who’s that?”

“None of your business!” I peeked out the window, and immediately got a face full of light. “Hey! Don’t let her see you!”

“Oooooooooh! You got a boy in there!”

“No I don’t!”

I covered my eyes and squinted at the roof, but the nighttime was the wrong time this time. “Hey, roll down your window, stranger!” she shouted.

I looked to Jacob, but he had his head in his hands. I rolled the window down. Rebecca nodded her flashlight in approval. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, you don’t look familiar. Are you new in town?”

“Uh, yeah,” I called out.

“You want a brownie?”

“I… what?”

“I got some brownies, do you want a couple? Consider them a housewarming gift!”

“Do not,” Jacob hissed.

I was super confused now. “Hey, what’s up with this girl?” I asked Jacob.

“She’s just creepy. Don’t talk to her,” he whispered.

“I figured, she’s yelling at us from her roof. But how does she know who you are?”

“I was the top linebacker, a lot people know who I am.”

It didn’t explain the overly-familiar friendly rudeness, or how she knew what his truck looked like, or how he recognized her from so many yards away—but Jacob was close-lipped, and pumping him for answers would be stupid.

There was only one question that I could get a real straight answer on. “But does she have, like… drugs?”

“What? No!” Jacob sputtered. “...W—why? D’you want any?”

Hm, Rebecca was weird and possibly troubled. Sounded like my kind of company. So I grabbed some stuff and got out of the car. “What’re you doin’?!” Jacob demanded, getting out of the driver’s seat.

“Going to meet the crazy roof girl. Hold my box.”

“See, Jacob? Some people know how to have a good time,” Rebecca chortled.

“You mind your own goddamn business, Rebecca!” Jacob yelled at the roof.

“There’s a ladder by the wall here,” she continued, pointing her flashlight at a spot on the grass. “You don’t have to stay, you can just grab you a brownie.”

I started towards the spot, only to be stopped in my tracks. I turned and saw Jacob holding the hood of my sweatshirt. “What are you doing?!”

“What are you doin’? This ain’t your house! We’re trespassing,” he snapped. “You know what could happen? We could get arrested!”

“Bad things can happen every day, you ding-dong. I could get herpes every time I walk outside! That doesn’t stop me from living my life!”

“That ain’t how herpes works.”

“You don’t know what I do in my free time!” I spotted the shape of a ladder leaning against the building. Great!

I think a lot about that ladder. I guess Rebecca put it there, but she could have gone out the window to get on the roof. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have taken her offer. How different would my life turn out if I had?

Anyway:

I started climbing up the ladder, and Jacob was basically scurrying behind me. “If you don’t come down from there, you’re gonna be walkin’ home!”

“Cool.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined it was turning red. “Fine! Stay here, see if I care!”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m drivin’ off, and you’re either gettin’ arrested or draggin’ yourself into one of Rebecca’s dumb shenanigans! I’m tired of enablin’ ev’ry mildly quirky boy that says hello to me!”

“Then drive off.”

“I am, asshole! Good evenin’!”

I heard him storming off behind me. He wouldn’t be gone for long, I had his car keys.

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projectocdfanbook · 7 years

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“Fixed Engine” Tour 2017 Nippon Budokon Night 1 & 2

So, this report is ALMOST two weeks late. Which makes me SO sad to think that it has been that long since one of the best nights I could have asked for. (report below line)

On day one of the shows, I got up bright and early to head to the venue and wait in line for merch. I was forward that there would be A LOT of people waiting as well. Even that did not prepare me to see as many people as I did. I’m sure it was probably half the venue already there! I got there around 6:30-7 AM, and the line was already INSANE! More arrived after. The sales didn’t even begin until 11 AM! I didn’t get to make my purchases until around 1 PM. The wait was so worth it though! It definitely added to the experience. In the end I got the backpack (that was my number one goal!), the picture book, and the venue exclusive pin for myself. I knew I would regret not getting more, and I do, but budgets man, not fun. Ha ha! On day two, I didn’t wait, but still managed to get that dates pin; I was SO happy for that!

When I returned for the show, I was so blown by the amount of people and the view of the venue! Everything looked SO cool! I was in love with all the flower arrangements that they received! They were all so beautiful, and it showed how cared they are by the people they work with. Got to take a picture of the canvas Yorke made. That was so cool to have that close as well! It was roped off, but still, the distance wasn’t too much and you could see the awesome details it had. Well. . . Sometime in that process, I actually lost my ticket. Yes, good ole, moron Mitzy managed to misplace her ticket. I was in full panic mode! There was NO way I knew how to properly ask if anyone had seen it. Somehow, we managed to at least get it across to one of the staff that I had lost my ticket. But they wanted to know where I was seated so that they could confirm it was mine. That kind of took a worry off my heart cause I knew they had one, and no one would be as idiotic as me to go an loose it. Sadly, I only knew the section, not the row or seat. Another blessing was that the person who sold me the ticket was sitting right next to me. I managed to get in contact with her, and praise the Lord it WAS my ticket. I almost cried of both happiness and sadness. Happy because I was going in, but sadness because I could not believe I managed to put myself in that situation.

Finally in, the boxes for letters and gifts were just at the entrance, so, I quickly got the book out and dropped it off. Truthfully, I actually lingered a little more that I should have had. Ha ha! I was so happy to finally have it at it destination, but kind of sad that it had come to an end. i worked hard on that, and now, it was no longer going to be with me. I thankfully held it together and as quickly as I could headed to my seat. I waited a total of about 7-10 minutes and the lights went out.

They started the show with a form of montage of all their songs while they all got onto the stage. As soon as they were settled, HEAVEN started playing and I lost it! I had actually told the person I was with to let me know if I was doing something out of the ordinary, so that I wouldn’t stand out too much or offend anyone. But truth be told, it just took a few seconds of that song for me to forget that. I wanted to just enjoy them. I mean, I obviously still didn’t want to be too abnormal that it may distract others, but I also knew that if I focused too much on that, I wouldn’t on them, and that was not gonna happen. Heaven was followed by flag on the hill and Lead Me Not.

Feed A made me tear up, on both nights. Not only was it the song that Tatsun was within the crowd at the AX show in LA, but because of what that song means to me. I gave it as much energy as I could to keep it together and see them perform it. I think all my emotions came out, but thankfully everyone was too focused on them to even see the mess that I was. Ha ha! Meteor Train was performed after, and I was able to calm a bit before their first MC. Sadly, my Japanese is still too beginner and I didn’t catch much of what was being said. Nonetheless, I was captivated. Tatsun could have talked for days and I would have been perfectly fine with it. Ha ha!

Cold Hands, The Misfit Go were played, and I was not prepared for what followed. They bloody played Calling! It is a newer song and I don’t have too much a connection with it, but I think that it’s the song in which Tatsun’s voice shines the absolute most! Live was no different! He sounded so incredible and I was once again in complete awe. They finished that part of the set with Harsh Wind and Dried Up Youth Fame. I went nuts once again. I mean, it just took me back to the Free! days full on!

Honestly, the part of the set that contained Lantana, Milestone, bund, (Blue) and Aching Horns, was a blessing. It gave us a bit of a rest from all the dancing. Although, feels just completely flooded again, so I was an internal emotional wreck again. Ha ha! Hearing Milestone was so amazing. I actually was hoping that they would open the LA show with that one since it was when Fixed Engine had just been out. But what they did with it for these performances was amazing! Yorke was complete center of attention for it all. His creativity knows no bounds, and I freaking love it! And without a doubt, hearing Aching Horns live again was perfection. The song was the perfect ending to the “feels” section of the show. Once the MC following this section was done, we were in for a night of none stop craziness.

Deal With live exceeded my expectations! I was so unbelievably excited to see this song played live, and they did not disappoint one bit. As soon as the MC was over, they turned on the neon laser and I was going insane. It was just like in the video. I loved every second of that song, it definitely brought me back to life after the previous songs. we were kept moving witThe Experience, Scribble and Beyond, and Anthem following suit.

After their second to last MC, the crowd went insane with WALK. I think it might be their most interactive song? In my opinion at least. But again, Kuroko No Basket feels came up and I was going crazy. At this point I was realizing how loud I was being and hoping that I hadn't been so bad. Ha ha! Night Flight is such an amazing treat to hear live. I think I might like it better as so rather than the recording. Landscape and

カタルリスム kept the mood going, and just when I thought I was about to run our of energy, they played it. Rage On!!!! The song I was introduced to them by. The song that intrigued me with its music and insane vocalist. I was watching that band at, live, in their home territory. I nearly cried again. Well, on the first night. The second night I just went crazy. Ha ha! Once it was over, they bowed and stepped off the stage. I knew it wasn’t over, but oh how it hurt to see them step away for even just a bit.

The crowd began chanting “OCD, OCD, OCD”, and it was sort of magical. I mostly just gazed out into the venue and wondered if it was really real or not. I guess I was in a bit of a shock at that point. Ha ha. After what seemed forever, (it was quite a while though), they stepped out again. Both went on to talk some. Apparently something about how in Budokon it’s not as simple to get a fan on the stage. Next thing I knew, two girls were being brought onto the stage. They were SO adorable!! For the second night, it was a girl and guy. They were all the winners of who got to sing Kick Out with them! I thought it was so rad that their tradition wasn’t broken since they couldn’t really pull people from the audience, and found a way around it. I thought it even more awesome on the second night, because the guy that got pulled up, he was actually sitting near where I was. And I was up high, and he was higher, like nose bleed seats. I found it SO rad since he went from there, to actually being on stage with them! It was no surprise that Kick Out was so AWESOME! Everyone that joined them did so well! This was only done on the second night, but they turned on the lights during the song, so everyone was very visible. So I was so intrigued by how much everyone got into it. Almost got more lost in watching everyone than them. Ha ha!

On the first night, their second to last song was reel and I was so hyped! I actually got into this song more recently, seeing as how they were playing it on some of the earlier dates, and fell so hard for it. Live was no exception. I loved hearing it so! While they played Eyes in the Chase, all I could thing was of their awesome vid. It was one of the first that I watched and I was caught in more emotions since it was taking me back in time. When it was over, all I could do was scream and clap until my hand hurt. I think it really hit me the most on the second night since I was towards the top and I had the view of the Japanese flag along with them bowing and Tatsun yelling his “ありがとうございます” out. I had done it. I had spent two incredible nights watching, dancing, singing, crying and overall feeling new with one amazing band in their home. I like many bands. Like, some would think too many. Ha ha! But in reality, I only loved 4. The reason being, that is the number of bands that have helped shape me to who I am now by being there when I needed it the absolute most. In 2016, OLDCODEX joined in and made it 5. I was so amazed when they performed in LA, because in a million years did I think I would be seeing my favorite foreign band in my home turf. But that was nothing to what I experienced those two nights. They are so deserving of all the success they are receiving. All of them put their absolute all into their shows and giving us, their fans, an incredible performance.

Thank you OLDCODEX, for being so kind to your fans and giving it your absolute all. Also, thanks you, my trip to Tokyo was even more unbelievably perfect. Even got to meet the incredibly kind @sincerely-shine and @tatsutako. Them, along with the rest of the audience, it definitely didn’t feel like I was going to these shows “alone”. I am so sad that it’s all done, but it definitely gave me an encouragement that these were not my last shows seeing them. Wether it be in Japan or America, I know that I will be trying my absolute best to see them once more in the very near future! Also, once HUMONGOUS THANK YOU to everyone that participated and gave constant support to ProjectOCDFanbook. If it were’t for you all, my one lonely letter might not have stood out as much as this book filled of love from all over the world will!

These are a few of the pics I was able to take.