#much less the dungeon bat
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just thinking about an insufferable brat with emotional trauma and a savior complex, and his mentally damaged git of a mentor.
#severitus#god i love these two so much#they are so mentally deranged#severus who doesn’t know how to be a father figure and fails miserably while trying to be one#harry who doesn’t trust any adults#much less the dungeon bat#but they’re trying their best!!!!#im like so obsessed with these two#snape mentors harry#severus snape#harry potter#harry james potter#pro snape#snape community#pro severus snape
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#thebardsbodyguard
“Hello and welcome back, we just got to hear a sample of the new single 'We Don’t Have to Dance' from Grammy winning group Corroded Coffin and we have here the lead singer and guitarist, Edward Munson.”
Eddie waves from his spot on the couch with a shy smile, he’s still getting used to all the interviews and stuff that come with the rockstar gig.
“Thank you for joining us, we are so excited to have you here.”
“That’s sweet, thank you. I’m not used to hearing my full name, made me think I was in trouble for a second.” Eddie chuckles and so do the others on the couch as well as the audience.
“I know right, everytime I hear my full name I just-” Chris Pine straightens and looks around like he’s waiting for a parent or teacher to jump out and Eddie laughs because it’s true. The couch also has Stephanie Hsu who Eddie met briefly during the break when she asked what kind of music he did. Overall it feels less stressful than other interviews, he just has to remember that even if a joke doesn’t sit well with him to just smile and nod or Jeff will strangle him.
“So Eddie, you and your band just wrapped your second tour a few months ago and you’re already putting out a new album soon. How do you find the time to just churn out music like that?”
“Well, every member of the band pitches in to write our songs. So everytime we’re home with our friends or families we always have stuff going on, things to experience or draw on to make music. And we’re very close so we’re always meeting up to bounce ideas off each other.”
“That’s right I hear you guys all play Dungeons & Dragons togethers and you have since-”
“Since high school, yeah. I had to repeat my senior twice before I found out I had ADHD and there were days where those games were the only things that kept me going.”
Graham turns to Chris and Eddie is grateful for a moment to take a sip of his drink and fix his sleeve which is just a smidge too tight. “Chris I know you didn’t play before but have you started since being in the Dungeons & Dragons movies.”
“We did a one shot…,” he trails off and glances at Eddie who nods in confirmation, “One shot to promote the second one with John running it and it was fun but there’s just so much to memorize.”
“And you Stephanie, did you do anything like that?”
She shakes her head with a beautiful smile, “No, I heard about D&D growing up and it’s become so popular now. I tend to be outdoors- I’m still outdoors a lot, handling the farm and the gardens and such.”
“More power to you,” Eddie offers her a cheers with his glass, “I grew up in farm country but I’m terrible at keeping plants alive.” No, that honor goes to Steve who loves growing things in their apartment.
“Before we go, Eddie I have one more question for you. I know you’re not on social media much but the internet is just dying to know about that gorgeous bodyguard of yours-”
“Bodyguard? What bodyguard?” Eddie interrupts as Graham pulls out his tablet and presses a button to pull up several images from social media. In them is Eddie and a very handsome brunette man holding open the door of a cafe and walking with him into a venue with a hand on Eddie’s back. The same brunette is pictured picking up Eddie after a speaker tipped over and caused Eddie to twist an ankle during a show. All of the images are tagged #thebardsbodyguard or some similar iteration. Eddie frowns and points at the screen, at the gorgeous man he knows like the back of his hand,
“Wait, you mean my husband?”
Twitter goes down for three hours after. Eddie and Steve are trending on Tumblr for days. People scrounge up photos of them from high school, pictures of Steve from the swim team and Eddie from Hellfire club surface and float around the internet. The length of their romance is speculated on as well as when they got married. Some clever fan notes the ring Eddie wears on the same chain as his guitar pick around his neck and the bat wing tattoo on his ring finger that appeared around the same time. The only thing no one finds is the wedding. It had been a close friends and family only event and none of their people would ever share Steve and Eddie’s personal lives like that.
Eddie does eventually give a single interview about his relationship with Steve but after that refuses any others with a request for privacy. He does however post a single photo of he and Steve in their wedding tuxes on Halloween that year. The two of them smiling side by side, foreheads tipped together, eyes closed. Steve is laying on Eddie’s chest when he posts it, having given final approval on the selected photo, while they share a slice of cheesecake for their anniversary.
“Love you Stevie.”
“Love you too, my bard.”
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#modern au#rockstar eddie munson#people think Steve is Eddies bodyguard#secret relationship#married steddie#steddiefic chronicles
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Roleplay | E.M.
Day 1 of Kinktober: Roleplay — eddie x fem!reader smut
warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - roleplay, piv sex, unprotected sex, blowjob, fingering, edging sort of, creampie, light begging
words: 1.2k
Eddie rapped twice against your bedroom door to get your attention while you put on the finishing touches on your costume. “Are you alright, sweetheart? Let me know when I can come in, okay?”
You exhaled lightly and spoke up so your boyfriend could hear you from the hall. “I’m ready, Eds.”
He opened the door slowly, and you bet it was because he wanted to build his own anticipation for the moment he saw you. And when he did get a look at you, he was stunned. His eyes moved from the way you braided the front two locks of your hair, to the way you did delicate, sparkly makeup, and to the long chiffon dress you wore that let him get a faint view of your lingerie underneath.
When he had gotten home that night, you had told him you had a surprise for him—and you had implied it was sexual—but he never would have expected this.
Even though you were sure he would be into it, his silence could have been an indicator for anything. “Eddie? Do you like it?”
“You’re— You’re her.” He responded.
You knew exactly what he meant. You had attempted to dress up as the fairy princess in Eddie’s new Dungeons and Dragons campaign—the character he based off of you—and you were so glad he recognized it.
“Yeah.” You whispered, then repeated your previous question. “Do you like it?”
“I fucking love it.”
Eddie’s lust-ridden voice sent a chill up your spine and brought back your confidence.
“Yeah? Well, I was hoping you could be your character and I could reward you for saving me from the Arcane Brotherhood, would you like that?”
“Baby, that’s some shit out of my fucking fantasies.”
“Good. You can just lay back and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“I don’t get a costume or anything like yours?” He asked, settling down on the bed.
You got on the bed and started straddling him. “Well, the goal is kind of to have us both be naked soon, so…” You shrugged, then leaned down to kiss him.
He kissed you back, then pulled away for a breath. Well, you thought it would be to take a breath. Instead, he kept talking. “I’m kind of digging the whole outfit though…”
You sighed exasperatedly. “Oh my god, Eddie. Do you want your reward for saving the fairy princess or not?”
He pulled you back down so you could kiss again. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll shut up now.”
You two were making out heavily, but you moved down to kiss Eddie’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone, and everywhere in between. Eddie tends to have wandering hands when you make out, but this time you had to stop him before they went too far down on you.
When he looked at you with a slightly confused face, you had to explain to him why you did it. “This is an expression of my gratitude for coming to my rescue. I’m sure the High Forest will be so relieved to have their princess back. I want to do something to show how grateful I am.”
He looked like he finally got it. “So I should just lay back like a paladin weary from a tiresome journey to rescue the princess?”
“Exactly.” You said with a smirk.
Then you scooted back a foot or so, just to sit beside Eddie’s legs so you could start undoing his belt and pulling down his pants enough to free his dick.
You looked up at him and batted your eyelashes while stroking his hardening member, trying to put on an innocent yet sexy face. “Is this okay, handsome paladin?”
He was already breathing heavily, but trying to calm himself. “It’s great, princess.”
“Tell me if anything is less than perfect, okay? I want this to be the best gift I can give you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, honey. So far, I love it.”
His compliments just egged you on, but you tried to hide your smile so he wouldn’t get too cocky. You leaned down and fit as much of him inside your mouth as you could. You knew you were doing alright so far because you heard Eddie choke out a moan with every swipe of your tongue against his cock.
You kept going, bobbing your head repeatedly, creating an amazing bedroom symphony when paired with his repeated moans.
Because you knew Eddie better than anyone, you knew that him beginning to get tense was the sign you had been waiting for to tell you that he was close to cumming.
Instead of continuing to suck him off, you let off of him, knowing exactly what it was doing to Eddie.
Eddie looked at you with aching eyes. “Honey, I was so close—”
“I know, but I thought you’d rather finish in your favourite place.” You pulled his pants off completely, then went to remove your dress as well.
“As much as I loved that dress, I’m so happy to see what’s underneath.”
You knew he would like it. In fact, you bought a set with a hole in the panties so you wouldn’t even have to take it off and Eddie could keep looking at it the whole time.
“Yeah? I bought it from some fairies in an oak tree who said any charming hero like yourself would love it.”
“And I do.” Eddie said as you straddled him again. “I mean, I didn’t come rescue you for the reward but I have to admit it’s incredible.”
“Well, I trust you, but I can’t be sure I’ve given a sufficient reward just yet.”
You lined him up with your entrance and lowered yourself onto him slowly. Eddie let out a groan of your name and brought his hands to your hips. You both let out some whimpers—quieter than you would if you didn’t have such thin walls—and you moved your hips to ride him properly.
You kept moving up and down while Eddie helped gently guide you. And even though you really wanted the night to be all about Eddie, you didn’t protest when he moved his hand to help move you along.
“I’m so close.” You said breathily.
He looked like he was holding back. “Me too, princess. I want to finish inside of you, right with you. That’d be the best part of this. Please, princess.”
“I’m right there, honey!”
With the perfect way Eddie was moving his thick fingers, plus the feeling of him releasing inside of you, it was impossible to hold off your climax.
You continued to ride him through both of your highs, and then you practically went limp on top of him. You kissed his jaw in the way Eddie always liked as a way to cool down, and he spoke again.
“If I write more characters based on you, can we do this again?”
You let out a giggle. “I’ll give you one night for every character, Eds.”
#xena's kinktober celebration#kinktober#roleplay#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson smut#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut
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I wonder why each little bird has someone to sing to, sweet things to, a gay little love melody (*´∀`)♪🎶
This drawing is a little celebration for Crowley’s card that will be dropping soon on the 19th! The lyric above is from Sleeping Beauty 🎶 Crowley and Lilia give me the vibes of those older couples who always like to dance or sing along to music, no matter how bad or good they may be at it. The Magical Gramophone is in the background, which can apparently play any song from memory. What song would they listen to? 🤔
(More headcanons and reference image credits below the cut! ^_^)
Ever since the Crowley-Levan theory became more well known, I heard many say that it meant that there would be potential romantic undertones (past or present) between Crowley and Lilia, and…I genuinely thought that was part of the appeal! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ Levan theory or not, I really like them. What is their ship name? Crowlilia?? If anyone knows, please let me know!🐦⬛🦇 Crowlilia nation where are you…
I don’t really think about headcanon stuff that often, so I thought it would be fun to think of some random headcanons as I went along with the drawing!
It would be fun if Crowley had feathers on his body that are usually covered up by his suit (I absolutely adore Falin from Dungeon Meshi). I see some incredible JP artists draw Crowley with these puffier sort of pants, which I also love. I think it would be interesting if Crowley had a sort of greyed-pale, slight splotchy purple and yellow skin tone, like a deceased body that has reached the pallor mortis stage? (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) It causes an uncanny and uncomfortable feeling whenever most students look at him…there’s just something wrong with him and no one wants to ask NAJXJSJD (I’d like to think that it’s blot related, and his long-term exposure to it has Not Been Good for him 💀)
For Lilia, I think he deserves some bat-like ears ^_^ I imagine him to have scars all over due to his past as a General. I ended up drawing his torso and legs less as thin as they are in canon by accident, but I kept it because I think he’d have a better diet now than his General days as well! (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) I am jealous of Lilia,,,I’d like to dance with Crowley! (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾
I’m really no good at thinking of relationship headcanons haha, so I’d love to hear everyone’s ideas about them! Even though their silliness would technically be combined in a relationship, I feel like Crowley and Lilia could balance each other out? Despite all the antics they would certainly get up to, there’s a mutual acknowledgment of each other’s life experience and age. I can imagine them idly talking about parts of their own pasts over tea or a stroll in nice weather…maybe not huge chunks of backstory, but just little moments from their long lifespan that has stuck with them since. Crowley could potentially become more responsible because he’d be fretting over Lilia’s gaming time ANJDJXBD. Crowley would absolutely eat Lilia’s cooking and to him it would taste good…crows/ravens can eat pretty much anything like meat, berries, garbage and carrion so I don’t think Crowley would be upset about the chopped liver randomly inserted into his meal 😭 Even if they don’t really look it, to me they really give off the vibes of the typical image of an older couple! 🤣🐦⬛🦇
Reference Image
Models: Suzy Parker and Robin Tattersall
Photographer: Richard Avedon
#i am cringe but i am free#twisted wonderland#twst#twst headcanons#dire crowley#lilia vanrouge#twst dire crowley#twst lilia vanrouge#Crowlilia#Crowley x Lilia#my art#kallistopost#why am I always one of the captains of a rare pair HELPP 😭😭😭#plaindonut I miss you…I will draw you again one day I promise#also one of these days are really want to buckle down and learn how to color…#I don’t really know what I’m doing and I want to experiment with more brushes and learn more about color theory 🤣
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Rewatching the animated Beauty and the Beast
-Right off the bat the thing in the opening that gets me is not the possible age implication but the fact that this prince is opening his own doors and to people he’s not expecting. You’re lucky it was just an enchantress looking to test the purity of your heart and not an assassin. Just power posing with the door fully open, no guards, going “Oh hey it’s someone I don’t know! I’m going to have a conversation with them alone” before god and everybody. Of course you got cursed, your guards should have rugby tackled her before she could get her wand out
-I never liked Maurice as a kid and I still don’t. Like he’s not bad he’s just annoying to me every time he’s on screen. The wind blows and he’s dying on the side of a cliff somewhere
-It is never not funny to me that Belle promises to stay in the castle forever and then just leaves three hours later
-I love Gaston having his whole “I’m going to get Belle’s father locked up so she marries me” scheme and then she’s fully just not remotely near the town. He’s living in a high stakes drama and she’s clapping along to dancing tea cups
-Hey when Maurice goes to look for Belle he grabs a bunch of rolled up pieces of paper and protractor. Is the idea that he’s just gonna invent and build something while actively walking? Sir you spent 6 hours in a dungeon and nearly died of being in a dungeon disease, you can’t help yourself out of a wet paper bag much less get your daughter out of anywhere with an invention you made out of rocks and sticks while clawing your way through the woods because you’re dying again
-But it is funny to imagine this revolving door of Maurice and Belle trading themselves for the other until the beast is just like “hey if I let you both leave will you promise to never come back”
-Belle is such a dick at the beginning it’s so funny. “Oh there’s one place in this giant castle I can’t go? I bet he’s hiding all the really cool stuff in there and I’m going to ignore his wishes and that of the staff. Oh no, consequences, the guy who said not to come here is upset I came here! Who could have foreseen this!”
-Like it’s not bad writing, it’s her character arc that she was mainly focused on herself and her interests and pretty judgemental of people who weren’t like her, so her disrespecting someone’s boundaries because she want to sets up something she grows from, and she learns to connect with someone else on their level even if that person is different from her and she learns that people are more than their surface appearance and even an angry beast has depths if you actually get to know them and see their view of the world, and connecting with people who are different from you enriches your life. Which is why when the townsfolk later try to kill the beast because he’s different we see she’s now understood the danger of that way of thinking and is horrified
-But that’s such a funny thing to do just immediately upon entering a castle owned by a big scary beast. Day one hour one she’s like “oh boy I know where I wanna go!”
-I don’t want to be a CinemaSins and point out how improbable it is that Belle got a giant unconscious beast onto her horse when he would be hundreds of pounds. But I do want to see the scene of her doing it. I’m picturing the horse sorta laying down and the beast is on the ground like a sack of potatoes and Belle has her back against him and is pushing with her legs to try and roll him over. Or she’s got her shoulder against him and is trying to push that way but her feet keep slipping in the snow
-Oh my god I forgot they told her about the library before the beast “gives” it to her. She was already allowed to go in there and knew it existed, “giving” someone a room they had full knowledge of and access to is very funny
-But you know what if he’s the kind of guy who thinks that will work and she’s the kind of girl it works on then they’re perfect for each other. Just two people with zero social skills bumbling around a castle together, making weird decisions and the other is like “wow they’re so cute and normal”
-I love the sweeping faux crane shot during the ballroom dance. Over 30 years later and that shit still slaps, more animated movies need to act like they’re being shot and edited like live action
-Maurice really can find a way to immediately die in any situation. When he’s at home he’s fine but the second he leaves the town border he develops tuberculosis and begins losing all function in his limbs
-I’m going to be honest with you guys, I’ve seen various versions of Beauty and the Beast and every time it’s the letting Belle go scene I have the same thought: I absolutely would not have read that social interaction correctly, I would have been fully under the impression we were all aware I was running an errand and coming back later. Because if I’m Belle, and I can live in the cool castle with a friend and people who are nice to me or a town I specifically stated not liking filled with a guy who is pushy and makes me uncomfortable and people who are mean to me and zero friends, I would not have been like “oh thank god I can finally go back!”
-“You should go to him. I release you, you are no longer my prisoner” See to me that reads “We are friends and I am removing this technicality between us so you can go run out and do something that is clearly important to you.” I would not have picked up on everyone in the castle thinking I was leaving forever. I’d just show up two hours later like “boy, it’s been a day, huh?” and the beast is just laying face down on the floor in his room listening to a sad boy playlist
-But the beast is clearly part dog so I guess it’s a normal reaction for him to have
-I don’t want to victim blame, but if you have a sick dad and are equidistant between “castle where everyone likes you” and “town where everyone is mean to you” and your dying father can be cured by a nap, I feel like it’s a bit on you if bad things continue to happen in the Bad Things Happen To Me town
-Not saying she should have anticipated a mob coming to incarcerate her father but I do feel like it would be expected that the people who have been mean to you and your dad would continue to be mean to you and your dad in the Everyone Is Mean To You and Your Dad town
-Because if the forced incarceration hadn’t been an issue, they would have gone to town the next day and someone would go “Hey Belle, your dad said you were kidnapped by a beast.” And everyone would point and laugh and he’d start waving his arms and going “It was the biggest beast you ever saw! 18 feet tall and claws bigger than my head!” and people would probably suggest that the guy they all call Crazy Old Maurice may be crazy and Belle would need to prove he wasn’t. I just don’t think we would have ended up with much of a different situation in any timeline that involves going back to the town
-Ok. So. If I live in a town. And I find out there is a beast within walking distance that is sentient enough to take villagers prisoner. And this guy is like “yeah he took me and my daughter prisoner, he’s terrifying!” I’m not saying I would have been part of the mob but I do think I would be worried about there being a beast and two people he previously kept prisoner living next door. And her saying “no he’s actually very sweet” would sound like those people with exotic pets who get their faces eaten by their pet tiger. Like yes they’re wrong but Belle also thought he was scary and violent until she’d been there a number of hours. I feel like if instead of giving herself up she went to town and asked for help and they created a mob to get her father back she would not have been against the idea so it’s not wholly their fault for having the same idea
-“Is it dangerous?” “No, no, he’d never hurt anyone” Every owner of a dog who wants to bite you so so bad
-So when Belle and her father are alone she is clearly telling him that the beast let her go and is kind. When asked about the beast by the town, Maurice starts yelling about how he’s the most terrifying monster in the world. Belle has to show the beast to back up her father’s claims to try and save him for the second? third? time. And then they’re locked up and she says “this is all my fault” and this man does not for a second contradict her or take blame at all. “Yeah I can’t believe you specifically caused this mess.”
“We won’t rest until he’s good and deceased.” I know there are only so many words that rhyme with beast but that’s such a funny line in a bloodlust song. I will not rest until this animal has been declared legally dead by the state
-“We will fight even though the danger just increased” I’m obsessed with all the words they had to use to rhyme with beast
-It’s so funny that this is canonically France and he is canonically a prince. They didn’t make him a duke or a lord he is directly related to the royal family and in the line of succession. Likely not the dauphin because they wouldn’t have sent him to run a castle in the countryside away from the center of politics so probably a younger son but still, this guy is part of the royal family. They didn’t have to explicitly state this is France but they do, and they reference the baroque period so it’s after the construction of Versailles. The beast is actively being stabbed to death while sentient furniture watches and at the same time his family are canonically pissing on the walls and floors of their own home
-Oh my god the beast is brooding on a chaise. Did he drag it over to the window just so he could dramatically sit on his chaise and stare longingly out at the rain? Absolute break up mood
-He’s also in a different outfit that isn’t the fancy one or his every day one, he went and changed into a breakup outfit. Important to note the breakup outfit includes a cape and what he was previously wearing did not. He chose to put on a cape as part of his breakup outfit
-So Gaston points his arrow at the beast. The beast acknowledges it then looks away. Gaston then fires and hits him and he reacts all surprised and angry that it hurt like my dude you let him shoot you with an arrow, what did you think that experience would be
-It is so wild that Gaston assumes the beast is in love with Belle. Like yeah he’s right but what a wild assumption to make when you’re not even sure this thing comprehends human speech. Again my thought would be he’s attached to her like a dog is attached to its owner, I would not see a big furry animal and be like “this thing is fully sentient and feels romantic attraction to human women”. Yeah he’s wearing clothes but still that feels like a leap. Pointing at a dog in a sweater following its owner and yelling “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
-The beast’s arc is partly him controlling his temper, and we see him want to kill Gaston but controls himself and lets him go, immediately resulting in his own death. Gotta be honest I feel like less self control would have been helpful in that specific scenario
-I didn’t remember the blood spray after the beast is stabbed followed by the stab wound bleeding a good amount of blood. Are there other Disney princess movies with onscreen blood? I think in Mulan we see blood oozing out through clothes from an injury but that’s the only other one I can think of. Eugene gets pretty bloodlessly stabbed
-Best scene in the movie: The beast floats up in the air, actively transforms into a human in front of Belle, stands up, says “Belle, it’s me!” She then squints at him, touches his hair a bit, squints at his face, and when she recognizes his eyes she goes “It is you!” Ma’am what the hell else did you think was happening. If you didn’t recognize his eyes would you have just been like “Hmmm I dunno…”
-Ok so at the end there is an entire royal court watching them dance. Again I don’t want to be a CinemaSins I just want to see the missing scene. Like did he explain what happened to him? If yes then again I want to see that conversation of him explaining to his family how he was literally transformed into a literal beast for the last ten years and they had no idea this was happening to their family member. If no, imagine just going back to being a prince after 10 years as a beast and you just have to pretend like everything has been normal this whole time. I want a sequel that’s just the human beast reintegrating not only back into society but French royal society, which was notorious for having some of the most intricate and complicated social etiquette in all of Europe
-The final shot is a stained glass window of them with a prominent rose. Now in the original he had a whole rose garden he was very attached to, so that makes sense. But I feel like this beast specifically would have only negative connotations with roses and that window would probably be seen as a little tasteless given the circumstances. “It’s a rose! You know, the physical manifestation of a curse that was clearly quite upsetting for you for nine years and roughly 360 days, reminding you daily of your flaws! Isn’t that fun?”
“Original score by Alan Menken” Look up his IMDB, if you live in at least the US this man has written the score to your entire life
#long post#I’ve been called out for being long winded so here is your warning#beauty and the beast#disney
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「 O b s i d i a n 」
•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•
Part I
Pairings: Severus Snape x Gender Neutral Reader
Summary: Professor Greeves’s infatuation with the potions master reaches a breaking point when he begins spending more time with his assistant.
Warnings: Lovesick reader ~ Jealousy ~ Angst ~ Use of “they” pronouns ~ Non-specified gender of reader
A/N: The last name Greeves is given but reader is otherwise not described.
AO3
Masterlist
Ko-Fi
•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•
Fridays in Advanced Phylactery Making held a special place in Professor Greeves’s heart. Watching awe light up their students’ eyes after separating the metal from their molds never failed to light a fire of pride in them. The hollow pieces were dim and bare bones, but it was a steppingstone to material that would prove useful beyond their studies.
Sanding was next. Each student was equipped with sheets of wet sandpaper as they hunched over their tables and ran them over their soon to be amulets. Greeves had to correct a few eager ones well on the way to sanding a hole in the frames. It was understandable; they’ve been waiting since fifth year to start crafting. Two whole years of learning theory and writing papers on proper amulet usage left plenty of time to weed out bad apples and encourage those with a genuine interest. Much to their surprise, only two students dropped the course while leaving a majority of thirteen.
They couldn’t ask for better students. It was every professor’s dream to have an engaged, well-behaved class every day. They were the talk around the staff room, including from the potions master. One Monday evening while both professors were heading off to dinner in the Great Hall, he expressed his disbelief after hearing of their students’ accomplishments and quick comprehension.
“Some of the seventh years can hardly brew a Wiggenweld potion, let alone craft a talisman,” he grumbled.
It was a normal day in the Hall. The students talked among themselves while forking down their meals. Greeves noticed a little too late that the only available seats were at his usual end of the table. They struggled to contain the warmth rushing through their face and their trembling hands. Talking with the reclusive dungeon bat was rare in and of itself, but sitting near him during mealtimes was unheard of for them. Even in the three years they’d been at Hogwarts, the opportunity had presented itself only one other time, much less desired back then.
Now, as they piled food onto their plate while continuing to speak about their classes, Greeves was aware of their lingering gaze. It wouldn’t surprise them if he could see the hearts shining in their eyes. His deep drawl caressed their soul with feather light fingers, leaving it a purring mess. His obsidian pools drew Greeves in further into their depths each time their eyes met. They seared their skin when they weren’t looking. And his hair, sleek and majestic, aroused the urge to run their fingers through it.
To say they were smitten was an understatement.
His perfect lips were saying something, yet no words reached their ears.
They wiped the serene smile stretching across their face, attention planted firmly back in the present. Hopefully they weren’t as obvious as they were back then. After a few laps around the rows of tables, the clock hanging above the door signaled the end of class and the end of the school week.
“Great work today everyone. Please bring your projects to my desk and don’t forget to clean your workstations,” they looked pointedly at the student notorious for leaving her area in a whirlwind. She blushed before sweeping her metal shavings into a bin. The rest scrambled to collect their things and turn in their work.
“Next week we will learn how to infuse them with magic, so make sure to begin reading the section in your textbooks,” they called to their retreating forms.
Excited chatter settled over the group, continuing down the hall. While they pondered their plans for the weekend, Greeves had their own to attend to. They opened their bottom desk drawer, retrieving a small drawstring bag. They turned it over in their hand then stowed it away in their pocket with a deep breath. Very big plans indeed.
An embarrassing bounce plagued their steps on their way to the Great Hall. Their stomach growled angrily at their insolence, empty since the lackluster biscuit and jam breakfast they had. They couldn’t entirely blame waking up later than usual. No, the nerves from haunting thoughts of a certain dark-haired man are partially to blame.
Before he grew to tolerate them, Severus hadn’t made it easy to get close to him. Asking him a simple question about his day seemed like a crime. Greeves could admit they didn’t trust others easily either, but there came a time when they had to realize not everyone had bad intentions. They didn’t know why he was so cautious. All they knew was they wanted him to take a chance on them.
The usual cacophony of chatter greeted them as they entered the Great Hall. A couple of students waved at them while they walked down the aisle, which they reciprocated with a smile. It eased their mind slightly from the task at hand.
It’s not a big deal, they thought, just say you want to talk to him about something privately. But would that be too forward? Too weird? Would he want to talk to me at all? They were so lost in their head that they didn’t realize the seat beside him was already occupied. They almost choked on their next breath. There she was, Clara—his newly appointed potions assistant—munching away on grapes while talking to him. Her animated manner of speaking was hard to ignore. Some days it was infectious to a degree.
Today was not one of those days.
When Clara first joined the Hogwarts staff, Greeves didn’t mind her jovial company. It made grading and trips to Hogsmeade more interesting. The stories she told of her muggle life in America fueled their desire to visit it one day. She made an honest effort to get to know each of her colleagues. Though not everyone appreciated her chipper attitude. Severus scoffed at any mention of her. He gave her the treatment he gave every newcomer: one-word answers and avoidance like they were diseased ridden. Clara didn’t heed their warnings about his standoffishness, pacing furiously in their classroom one day with a frown that didn’t fit her face.
“I mean, he didn’t even let me finish what I was saying!”
Greeves recalled similarly their time as a newbie. They didn’t fully accept him brushing them off either, but they learned when not to push him too hard. Clara, not so much.
“Don’t be too upset,” they patted her shoulder before going back to putting up supplies. “He’s like that with everyone.”
“But I want us to be civil at least. He won’t even give me the time of day!”
Greeves smirked, vaguely remembering having the same conversation with Professor McGonagall.
“He’ll come around eventually. Just don’t bombard him so soon, okay? Ease into it.”
She paused her frantic movements to ponder their words then nodded, a determined expression replacing her frown.
“Okay. Thanks, Professor.”
They wouldn’t have bothered if they knew it would lead to that. Their heart pounded against their chest harder the closer they get to the head table. He didn’t look annoyed or even mildly disinterested. He was actually engaging with her. They rounded the table, pausing to address them.
“Hello Clara,” it came out more strained than they intended. “Professor.”
Greeves barely paid attention to her cheery response and focused their attention on him instead. He glanced over for a second and gave a polite nod.
Ouch. It felt like their every move was being ridiculed and scrutinized as they took the available seat next to Professor McGonagall further down the table. They greeted the older woman and made a bit of small talk between bites of pasta. They went into autopilot mode. They didn’t fully comprehend what they or Minerva were discussing. All they could linger on was the fact that Clara had waltzed in and wormed her way into Severus’s good graces much faster than them. Much faster than they had heard from the other professors.
A sudden giggle reached their ears, startling them from their trance. They looked in that direction, regretting it immediately. Clara was cackling at something he said. But what really left their heart heavy was the expression on his face. His fine lines were smoothed out, the corner of his lips raised in a half smile, and a glint in his eyes that reminded them of stars on a moonless night. They never saw him look so…placid.
Greeves sighed, long and defeated. They turned back to their plate where they’d been pushing and prodding at their food. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to talk to him after all.
“Are you alright, dear?” Minerva interrupted their spiraling thoughts.
They blinked, quickly forcing a smile when the question registered.
“Of course, Professor. Just thinking about the assignments I have left to grade.”
They took another bite of food to sell the lie though grimaced afterwards. It had gone cold. Minerva took one look over her shoulder at what they had been transfixed on before a knowing smirk tugged on her lips.
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain professor, would it?”
“No-No, not at all!”
Even they didn’t believe the lie. Their half-hearted denial fell on deaf ears.
“You should tell him how you feel.”
“And if he doesn’t feel the same?”
She placed a warm hand on their shoulder. “Then you’ll know, and you won’t be tormented by constant what-ifs.”
They were still unsure, yet groups of students heading for the exit let them know they didn’t have long to decide. From the corner of their eye, they saw Severus taking his leave, his cloak billowing behind him. Clara was nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps Minerva was right. It made sense for them to get along. It would be counterproductive if they despised one another while working together so closely. Or maybe Greeves was setting themselves up for heartbreak. Maybe they were closer than typical colleagues. Either way, they knew they had to do something.
They had to know for sure.
They thanked Minerva for the advice before heading off to their chambers to freshen up.
•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•
Unfortunately for them, patrol duty didn’t wait or care about their prior plans.
The halls were calm apart from the stragglers they caught sneaking around with firecrackers. It was even worse since they now had to serve them with a lengthy detention sentence on Monday. After escorting them back to their respective common rooms, they realized they weren’t far from the potions’ classroom. Past curfew or not, Greeves could count on Severus doing some late-night grading or reading. They figured a slight deviation wouldn’t hurt.
They fished the drawstring pouch from their pocket, a faint blue glow emanating from it in the dim lighting. On they walked toward the dungeons, feeling the gradual shift of temperature to a biting chill. They gave themselves a pep talk the entire way that did nothing to slow their doubts.
The door came into view, left cracked open which he only did when he expected them to drop by. Did he notice their not-so-subtle staring at dinner? Had he been aware of their affection for him the whole time?
They bit their lip as they approached the door, raising their fist to knock when a voice that wasn’t his slashed their resolve.
“It’s refreshing to know someone who’s into the same things as I am. You wouldn’t believe how much I was teased for being a teacher’s pet.”
Clara, Greeves frowned. What was she doing here? They willed their heart to quiet for fear of anyone hearing, leaning closer to hear his response.
“It’s nothing against you personally. Others only fear and envy what they don’t understand.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“My early days were no walk in the park either, but you can’t dwell on the past lest you prove them right. You have a brilliant mind and potions are a viable medium, personal bias aside of course.”
“That means a lot, Severus.”
Heels clicked further away before a pin drop silence settled in. With feathered steps, they inched the door open enough to see what was happening. The moment their eyes focused, they gasped and covered their mouth with both hands. The pouch hit the ground with a muffled clack. They…
A hellscape realized was the only thing close to describing the scene. Their blurry forms pulled away from each other as they questioned the noise, one of them starting towards Greeves. They forced their legs to work, casting the disillusionment spell then taking off running. Patrol forgotten, they didn’t stop until they reached their chambers. Only when the door was closed and securely locked behind them did they allow the building sob to escape. They slid down the doors length until they were on the floor, hiding their face behind their knees.
At least they finally got an answer.
•─────────────•°•❀•°•─────────────•
TAGLIST
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@cold-blooded-girls
@bobobomao
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#sugatrapp#reader insert#gender not specified#harry potter#snape x reader#severus snape x reader#angst
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I dunno if I touched on this already but I am Obsessed so you’re stuck with it
Just
Idk the Adventurer’s Bible calls it “cruel” that Mithrun told Thistle that Delgal wanted him dead in the end, but… it just doesn’t read that way to me
No one questions that Laios and co didn’t want to start a fight and just wanted to talk, but I feel like Mithrun was coming from a pretty similar place
He gives every prospective dungeon lord a chance, speaks to them more readily than anyone else, and always offers them a chance to back down despite clearly believing they won’t take it
And I mean I can’t 1000% cite it so I might be wrong, but… I think it’s also the only time he openly empathizes? He’s more emotive, with more facial expressions, but I can’t really think of another time he openly talks about what other people want
He’ll drop all his own trauma without batting an eye, but with Thistle and then with Marcille he tries to work out what their motivations are, what they want to wish for, and use his own experiences to warn them it can’t work and they won’t actually get it
It’s kinda cursory, but much less than Lycion asking Laios to give up on Marcille; he’s seeking a connection to spare them his fate, and while seeing Thistle catatonic doesn’t noticeably phase him, he’s pretty disinterested in the dungeon lords when you compare it to his reaction to the winged lion
(Full feral, 30 seconds flat, not a word before it’s peanut butter murder time)
The dungeon lords are ostensibly natural enemies as much as the demon is, and all the other Canaries are pretty focused on eliminating the dungeon lord as the first priority, and I dunno if any of the rest would even bother asking them to stand down
Lycion sure as hell doesn’t bother trying to justify to Laios why he shouldn’t go side with Marcille; he just asks him to abandon his friend, no, entirely expected, and he’s pretty clearly just humouring Kabru
Officially, they have to kill the dungeon lord to get a shot at the demon, and with a direct shot Mithrun loses his shit
But either dungeon lord alone? He doesn’t even try to seriously hurt them until he’s made the offer, he gets them temporarily incapacitated at best and he’s perfectly happy to let Laios free Marcille if he thinks he has even a vague shot at it
And sure, it might all be calculated to throw them off their game, to find weaknesses and rattle them before the fighting starts, but then why would he agree to let Laios help her stop being a dungeon lord without a fight?
The other captains sure as hell aren’t buying in, but Mithrun signs off without question, and it also might be that he just doesn’t care about the dungeon lords; any way he can get to the demon works
But he could have killed Marcille instead of trying to restrain or search her
He’s a fucking madlad, the time he used tackling her and starting the pat down could have begin with cape-decapitation to solve the problem before it occurred
He could have sent the plank into Thistle’s chest, not his arm to make him drop the book - that’s even a bigger target
They’re the Canaries. They already heard Laios say he wanted to be the dungeon lord. If they’d tpk’d the entire party there, it’d have been their job description, and we only got a dramatic final showdown because he gave Marcille a chance to just hand the books over… or let him take them
(Bet Pattadol and Lycion regretted pulling him off her, optics be damned, for at least a couple hours there)
Idk I just think it’s interesting that despite being the character with no wants or opinions on most things… he really does try to save the dungeon lords, and his squad follow his lead until they can’t even in his absence
(Talking to Laios and Chilchuck even after he’s fucked off, giving Laios even a cursory chance to quit)
It just… doesn’t add up that he told Thistle what Delgal wanted to be cruel, not on top of everything else
It wasn’t fucking tactful, but it was true, and if Thistle had believed him and realized that what he was doing was pointless…
That woulda been the fight. Wrap on Dungeon Lord Thistle, just a hop down for the other book, the status quo is mostly intact but the Island is saved
I don’t think it’s necessarily cruel to not want to kill someone
(But then the Golden Country woulda had to deal with King Mithrun Who 10000% Is Leaving To Find Another Demon Murder Opportunity, so like it was never an option narratively… which makes it all the more interesting that he tried)
#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi spoilers#delicious in dungeon spoilers#dunmeshi#dunmeshi spoilers#mithrun#mithrun dungeon meshi#listen i just have so many thoughts about him#and tbh am the person who usually asks ‘why didn’t they just try x’#ao this may also be why i am feral for his ass#cuz he DID try x and it didn’t work and we move on#but he fucking tried
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A Selkie and A Succubus
A03 Link
"Linkkkkkkk. I'm hungry." Ravio's tail batted insistently against the selkie's leg, draping himself over Link's shoulder.
"Can't wait?" Link leveled a flat stare at his boyfriend. Ravio's little bat wings fluttered impatiently, and he made a big show of pouting.
"Fine. Here." Link set down the skillet he was frying eggs on and kissed the succubus on the cheek. Ravio trilled in delight. "Thanks for the snack."
Such a glutton. Link had given him sleepy cuddles this morning for a full hour. That was basically a three course meal for the succubus. Sure, the food might be more mild than others of his kind went for, but Ravio had admitted to never wanting anything spicier than some kisses. Even then, he preferred neck kisses to mouth kisses, citing grossness.
Even after getting his snack, Ravio clung to Link like a koala, tail snaking around his leg and squeezing in a miniature hug. Link rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. Ravio was such a cuddle bug, in a way Link was 100% sure had nothing to do with the sustenance he got from affection.
“You’re going to have to get dressed and go to work eventually.”
“Nooooo,” Ravio whined, curling his tail tighter. “Sleep. And food.” His wings fluttered behind him.
“Guess that means we won’t have any rupees to spend on a date night this week,” Link teased. “I’ll just have to leave you all alone while I go dungeon crawling to pay for your lazy days.”
“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Ravio pouted, puffing out his cheeks and making sad puppy eyes. Still, the promise of money and dates was enough to spur him into his morning routine, pulling off oversized pajamas and donning his usual purple robes. There was a slit in the robes for his tail to curl out, and the back had been cut out from his shoulder blades to mid-back to make room for his wings.
“See, was that so hard?”
“Your eggs are burning.”
“Shit!”
xxx
Ravio’s Rabbit Rentals was a two person outfit. Link explored dungeons, killed monsters, and collected everything that caught his interest while exploring. Then, Ravio would take the spoils and do his best to rent or sell Link’s items to any less experienced adventurers wanting an edge in their own quests. Link would complain that he did all the hard work while Ravio just stole his things to sell, but it was all for show. He wanted nothing to do with customer service or figuring out the market on how much magical items would be worth. Not to mention Ravio actually had to go out and do collection runs to get his rentals back, which seemed like no fun. So for all Link would whine, he was quite happy with the arrangement.
Ravio had a winning smile and perfect suck-up tone when he was on the clock.
“You seem ruggedly handsome, like you could climb the cliffs of Death Mountain alone! With the Tornado Rod to help speed things along, I’m sure you could tackle the Tower of Hera.”
“Oh, you look so clever, Miss. Why not take a bomb bag rental? You seem like you could find so many ways to use them.”
Link didn’t get it, but he was happy he didn’t have to.
Some time later, Link was doing basic weapon maintenance, sharpening swords, refilling the mana on enchanted rings, when he heard it.
“You’re the local succubus, right?” A woman’s voice sounded.
“Ravio of Ravio’s Rabbit Rentals, that’s me! Would you be interested in our wares? I have a lovely fire rod with your name on it!” So overzealous in his sales pitches, that one.
“Actually, I was more interested in a service you provide.” Her tone was sultry, making Link roll his eyes. Sometimes customers would come in and try to flirt. Ravio usually took advantage of their interest to make them leave with arms full and wallets empty.
“A service? Oh, are you looking to rent? Or perhaps pawn, we are willing to do minor loans for dungeon loot!” Did they do pawn services? Eh, best not to think about it. Ravio was just responsible enough for Link to let him handle the business without oversight. Emphasis on ‘just enough’.
“I’m looking to rent,” The customer purred. Honest to god purred. Like a cat. Was she a werebeast? Link couldn’t help but peek his head from around the corner. Nope. Vampire. So she was just shameless.
“Well, if you want an itemized list of all rentals we have available or are expecting back within the next two weeks, I can go get the inventory log for you-”
“Oh I’m not looking for something in inventory. I’m looking to rent some time with you.” There was the sound of shuffling and cloth meeting cloth. Was she backing Ravio into a table?
“O-oh. Um. I don’t really? Do that sort of thing?” Ravio squeaked.
“C’mon, you’re a succubus. You’re going to say no to money and food? I heard you’d do anything for a quick rupee.” If it were in any other context, Link would agree. Ravio would probably eat glass for five rupees. But with the terrible flirtatious tone she was using…
Ok, that was it, Link was stepping in. “Excuse me, can I help you?” He made sure to bring his sword with him, and intentionally sheathed and unsheathed it to make an audible shink, smiling as the woman flinched back. Ravio let out an audible sigh of relief as he walked in.
“Huh? You didn’t tell me there were other people in here!” She looked accusingly at Ravio.
“Oh, did you not hear? This is my partner and supplier, Link. He is the source for all our wares. He’s braved Lynels, hordes of Daira, and even fell the evil sorcerer who kidnapped the princess some years back. He’s very talented.” Ravio took the chance to slip away from the customer’s reach and hide behind Link, reaching to squeeze Link’s right hand.
“Sorry about not finding what you want here. Ravio has a discerning palate.” Link smirked as she caught the underhanded insult, mouth opening and closing like a fish. To punctuate his point, Link leaned over and gave Ravio a peck on the cheek, never taking his eyes off the vampire.
If she had blood left in her veins, her face probably would have paled. Instead, her eyes just widened and she hurried to make her leave, accidentally stubbing her toe on the leg of a table in her scramble to leave as fast as possible.
“Thanks for the help, Link.” Ravio returned the kiss on the cheek, smiling gratefully.
“No problem. I swear, your customers get the dumbest ideas.”
“I mean, I get it. I’m not really normal,” Ravio sighed, eyes cast to the floor.
“Hey, hey. What do I keep telling you? There’s nothing wrong with you.” Link cupped his hands under Ravio’s chin and gently pulled his gaze back up. “You can eat or not eat whatever you want, nobody else gets uppity about food preferences.”
“I know, I know,” Ravio put his hand over Link’s leaning his cheek into the touch. “Sometimes it’s just hard to remember when people like her come in. And it’s not like I avoid it, I know I get close to customers when I make sales pitches.”
“Hey, calling someone handsome or pretty is by no means free reign for someone to come in and ask for ‘services’.” Link pushed his forehead against Ravio’s. “Are you ok? Do you need to close the shop early?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks to you.” Ravio leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Hero.”
xxx
"That pelt you're wearing around your shoulders, it's selkie, right?"
Ravio shifted uncomfortably. Two belligerent customers in one day? Seriously? "Ah, yes, but-"
"I'll pay top rupee if you're willing to part with it. Those go for high prices, even without the monster they're attached to. I mean, that's potentially eternal servitude right there. Not to mention how high quality the magic inside is." When he had first seen the man come in, his thick wallet had excited Ravio. Now, dread was pooling in his stomach.
"This isn't for sale, but maybe I can point you to some wonderful magic tunics from the depths of a dungeon?" Ravio forced a smile on his face, trying to redirect.
"Hah, don't you worry. I'll spend enough to buy you a legion of servants to replace your selkie. If you need him for the food, I can ensure you'll be feasting on the finest love money can buy."
Ravio's eye twitched. "I don't need servants, and I'm perfectly content with my eating arrangement as is. Please look only at wares on display. Otherwise I'll need to ask you to leave."
"Now, now. Everyone has some price. Please, ask for anything your heart desires, I can make it happen-"
Ravio's tail snapped in anger, hitting the table next to him. "Sir. The thing my heart desires most in this moment is for you to shut the hell up, buy something that's actually for sale, then leave and never come back to my house again. If you want a selkie pelt so badly, go scrape up some stinking dignity and convince someone to give theirs to you. I doubt you ever can because you think no matter how atrocious you are, you can pay to make up for it. There's not enough rupees in the world that would ever have me tied to a sniveling, old money brat who waves around his wealth to make up for the inadequacy of every other thing about him. So either get something that actually has a price tag, or get out."
The man sputtered, red in the face. He tried and failed to make a comeback, then angrily tried to yank the pelt around Ravio's shoulders. Really? Stealing? Ravio stepped back, and whistled for backup. Sheerow swooped in, pecking the man relentlessly.
"Ow! Owowowowow!" The little white bird pecked the man onto the welcome mat and out the door, slamming the door behind him for good measure.
"You're such a good business partner, you know that?" His friend landed in his cupped palms, and chirped happily as Ravio snuggled him close to his face.
“That was kinda hot.” Link was leaning against the door frame, a grin splitting his face. Ravio flushed red and jumped, realizing he wasn’t alone.
“Ah! Sorry you had to see that. Do you want your pelt back?” Ravio adjusted the pelt around his shoulders. When they first started dating, Link gave it to him as a sign of trust. Link would still take it with him when he needed to swim in the oceans, but most of the time he left the soft pink fur in Ravio’s hands. Still, there were some nights when Link would take the pelt and hold it close to his chest, eyes foggy with awful memories. Ravio wanted him to feel safe and secure; his Hero deserved that much.
“Why would I? Clearly it's in good hands.” Link sauntered over and kissed into his hair. The succubus’ tail flicked and his wings fluttered. Link’s kisses were always so delicious; his boyfriend spoiled him with how well he ate.
“I won’t let anyone else touch it. You’re so important to me, you know that?” Ravio looked up at Link, feeling the affection burning in his chest. “Even if I’m a coward, I’ll still protect it with my life.”
“I know you will.” Link’s voice was filled with so much love and trust, Ravio felt the satiation of fullness as he drank up the words.
Ravio truly was blessed.
#raviolink#ravio#ravioli#ravio x link#lu legend#linked universe#loz ravio#lu ravio#muse writes#muse's ravioli week#fanfic#albw ravio#ravio zelda#seelies and selkies#Protective boyfriends#Loving relationship#alternate universe - monsters
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The Hero - Skylar
Nature: Naive
Characteristics: Somewhat of a Clown / Highly Curious
Ability: Cute Charm
Moves: Sing / Wide Slash / Dig / Blizzard
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION BELOW THE CUT
Fitting to start with Skylar's references first. I recently redid them which gave me some fresh new ideas for her character too.
Her first ref sheet is of her human form. I put a lot of thought into how she'd interact with Grovyle and the others like this and my conclusion was to use the power of psychic pokemon. Her necklace is an espeon pearl that essentially gives her telepathy, a very important item for her.
Aside from that she carries round and assortment of dungeon crawling materials. A small dagger for cutting through foliage, a not as small bat for knocking Sableye into next week. Since she's super active and basically has to throw hands to defend herself she's got some decent muscle on her. She can also use the psychic powers from the pearl to add an extra kick to her bat attacks but that doesn't do much when you're punting small dark types.
I like to think if she had a pokemon type she'd be fighting / psychic (dimensional scream counts as psychic powers, right?) Pokestar studio style.
Then there's her pokemon form which needs less explanation. I think the most interesting new lore I added to her was that she'd naturally have the psychic tera type. I used to really like to draw her with her eyes open when she was shocked or surprised in the past but I think that's an honor reserved for when she has dimensional screams now.
As a delcatty I tried to give her tail a more feather like appearance to kinda match her name. :)
#pokemon mystery dungeon#future grovyle#pmd#my art#skitty#delcatty#pokemon mystery dungeon explorers#pokemon
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Delicious in Dungeon Anime Season 1, Episode 2 Review
Spoilers for season 1, episode 2 below the cut! There may also be mild manga spoilers so proceed with caution.
This episode was great! I think it was a big improvement on the first. Honestly no real complaints...
I do kind of wish both Marcille and Chilchuck could have had stand-alone episodes dedicated to their character development, to allow for a deeper focus, but I understand why they didn't do it, and the pacing was still excellent.
I do still sometimes feel like the show is in fast-forward at times, because with 3 meals in one episode, it feels like the characters finish eating, and we jump cut to them saying that they're hungry again, without anything to help really impress upon viewers that time has passed. Makes it feel a bit like we're reading a collection of short 4-panel gag comics instead of a continuing story… which, early Dungeon Meshi DOES have that as part of it's format, but it changes with time, as we get into longer individual stories.
During the Basilisk/Doni and FIonil section, I really do miss some of the dry humor from the manga. ("Hurry, he's getting cold!" "Move him closer to the fire!") The hilarity of slowly preparing a meal while someone is dying of poison has unfortunately been lost, which makes Doni and Fionil much less memorable characters….
But it benefits the other 2 stories in the ep to have more time so I think it was the right choice to make. It also gives people something to go back and read the manga for, since it's a little different! If you're reading this and you're an anime only, consider reading the manga while you watch the anime! I promise it's worth it.
I'm excited about next week because I think they'll devote the entire episode to Laios and the living armors, which is me and my spouse's favorite early DM storyline, and the part where we both said "Oh, I LOVE this manga..." and got really invested.
It's 2 chapters in the manga so it could be an entire episode…. which also would make sense, if that's why they needed to crunch 3 chapters into episode 2.
Just like the first episode, animation was fantastic, and as usual the weakest points are when characters are just walking or talking and not doing much. Everything more dynamic is just bouncy and adorable and full of life. Very rarely is anything animated in a dull or flat way. They're doing their best to use "move a drawing around" or "zoom on a drawing" for comic effect and I think it's working well so far. There's some great animal animation in this episode, the bat flying around and the basilisk chasing Marcille in particular.
Translation was better this time around, no dumb modern or game references in the dub ("newbs" "as if" etc.) … But there are differences between the subtitles and the dub script that change how easy it is to understand what's happening.
When Senshi tells Chilchuck to cut up the giant bat, the subtitles make it hard to understand what he's telling him to do, and the dub makes it a lot clearer.
In the subs when Senshi calls Chilchuck a half-foot child, the subtitles say "I'm not a child" and the dub says "I hate it when people call me 'kid'"… The latter is more interesting for keeping the mystery going for things that happen later in the story.
If the show continues like this, I think the English dub may be the more satisfying way to watch it (even though the Japanese performances are great), mostly because the subs are very literal and sometimes miss things that the English dub somehow manages to include.
And for some reason Netflix isn't including translation of Japanese signs on-screen during the subtitles, but they DO provide them when you watch the English dub. A lot of Dungeon Meshi's humor is sometimes in those background signs so completely missing out on them sucks.
Anyway those are my thoughts for this episode! See you next week Meshiheads.
#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dunmeshi#my stuff#chilchuck#chilchuck tims#marcille donato#marcille#dungeon meshi spoilers#spoilers#anime#anime review#review
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He and Eddie have nothing in common.
Steve Harrington was prom king, on half the Hawkins’ High sports teams, a member of the student council.
Eddie Munson was the leader of the school’s long-lamented Dungeons & Dragons Hellfire Club, and his band played at the single dive bar in town at least one night every week.
Steve wears pastel polos and light jeans, practically the poster boy for the preppy privilege that populates the multi-story houses of Loch Nora.
Eddie has shaggy hair, tattoos, and chains on his belt loop, proudly displaying his otherness in a way that had prompted the small-minded denizens of their equally small town to try and run him out on a rail the first chance they got.
The King and the Freak.
The Freak is just a construction. Sure, it was still Eddie, just dialed up to eleven. Eddie had taken the title, the jeers and the taunts, and constructed an identity out of it, wrapping it around himself like a cloak to protect him from the rest of the world.
The King is flimsier, less real, but serves much the same purpose. Steve’s parents, his friends, his teachers all expected certain things from Steve. Not much brain, but handsome, athletic. Enough to skate by in life, end up at a cushy job at his dad’s company with a wife he barely spoke to and 2.5 kids behind a white picket fence at the end of the cul-de-sac.
King Steve threw ragers. King Steve worked his way through as much of the Hawkins High female population as he could. King Steve said nothing when Tommy H. went after kids well below them on the social ladder, even threw in a few of his own taunting remarks when he felt he had reason. The King helped Steve get by, and that was fine, for a while.
Until Nancy Wheeler. Until the monsters. Until the nightmares and the nail bat and Dustin Henderson on the Wheeler’s lawn demanding that Steve help him.
The King has died many deaths over the years, and Steve, disappointing to his parents though he may be, is all that’s left behind.
But Steve, even real Steve, whatever that means, isn’t much like Eddie Munson.
Because Steve likes romantic comedies and John Hughes’ flicks about suburban teen angst and Tom Cruise-led blockbuster vehicles. Eddie, meanwhile, scours the Family Video shelves for blood-soaked Giallo horror movies and the stray John Waters’ cult classic that had somehow slipped through the cracks.
(“Okay, but, you kinda have to admit,” Steve had said, gesturing between them one late night in the Munsons’ living room, when he somehow managed to strong arm Eddie into his rewatch of The Breakfast Club, “he’s onto something with this one.”
“I will admit no such thing, Steve Harrington,” Eddie had dramatically proclaimed, “not even under threat of death. Vecna himself could manifest physically, in the room, right now, and you will still hear nary a word from my mouth openly admitting that I find The Breakfast Club, of all fucking things, relatable.”
Then Steve had tackled him on the couch, thwapping Eddie with a pillow until he cried uncle. Getting Eddie to admit to actually liking the movie, though, was still a work-in-progress.)
Steve tends to listen to whatever Top 40 has made its way onto the Hawkins’ airwaves from week-to-week, Eddie has very specific and adamant opinions about a slew of metal bands Steve has never even heard of.
(Well. Had never even heard of, before. These days, he gets an earful any time he so much as suggests They all sound the same to me, Munson. He wonders how long it will take before Eddie catches on to the fact that he’s just doing it to rile him up.)
At a glance, it’s plain to see. He and Eddie have nothing in common.
….
There are matching scars on his and Eddie’s sides, the pound of flesh taken by the interdimensional bats they fought off deep beneath the soil of Hawkins proper.
The ghost of Chrissy Cunningham haunts Eddie’s eyes late at night when he wakes up screaming from nightmares in Steve’s bed, having slept over again and too lazy to crawl out into the guest room. (The fact they both sleep better with someone else in the room remains unspoken between them.) Just the same as Barbara Holland haunts Steve’s own.
They both have a habit of taking younger kids under their wing. When Steve tells the kids no! adamantly–in full mom-mode as they call it–Eddie is right there, saying nope! with the exact same inflection. The pair of them share an exasperated look over Dustin’s head everytime he takes that fucking tone yet again, rolling their eyes in unison. Shepherding all the little lost sheepies! Eddie had called it, before laughing at the confused expression on Steve’s face at the phrasing.
(“You’re weird, Munson,” Steve had told him, shoving lightly at his shoulder.
“You, too, Harrington,” Eddie had shoved back, still grinning that megawatt smile. From his lips, it sounded like a compliment.)
Dustin Henderson worships the ground they both walk on, and Steve knows, for a fact, that they would both die for him.
They both have a habit of running, but coming back when it really, really counts.
(“What you did, with the bats?” Steve had said quietly, sitting beside Eddie’s hospital bed a few days after the world didn’t end. “Hero shit, Munson.”
“Maybe I was just trying to impress you,” Eddie laughed weakly, still high enough on painkillers the bold flirtation came easily.
“Don’t do it again,” Steve scolded, stern, the way he got with Dustin and the others. Then he added, in such a low mumble Eddie barely caught it, “You’ve already got my attention.”)
So, yeah. Steve and Eddie have nothing in common.
…Except when it comes to all the shit that actually matters.
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Roddacember Day 5: Magic
Something I like about the magic of Deltora's universe, something that not every fantasy media tries or manages to pull off, is how it's less a scientifically defined thing and more, almost, cultural.
Something like Dungeons and Dragons has spells that aren't just strictly defined, but universal. I can turn bat guano into a fireball by exploiting the laws of fictional physics, and someone across the continent can do the same thing if they learn how.
Other works will have something a little closer, where you have to be one of the people born with special blood. Magic is just something that happens sometimes, and if you're not either a random monster that innately uses it or one of the setting's wizards, you're out of luck.
What Rodda does, though, hits on an aspect of magic that I think is a better use for it than as setting dressing or a plot lubricant: the wonder.
Magic, as a piece of human imagining, is the natural consequence of a world where we have to work very hard to do things. "What if," says the archetypal everyman, "these dishes leapt into the sink and washed themselves, and I could stop using my precious god-formed fingers for things other than reaching for bonbons?"
The natural progression from there is... what if I could do things that I can't do now with any amount of effort? What if I could wipe away sickness with the touch of my hand? What if I could call upon the untameable forces of the natural world?
We all know, in the modern day, that the world is cold and made of smaller building blocks than we can comprehend. Disease is not made of elemental evil, but a multitude of complex problems of human homeostasis that our words and understanding can only capture the very surface of.
Of course, we still tell stories of magic potions that can cure any ailment. This is what magic has always been all about. It bridges the gap between the things that humans find meaning in, and the things that matter to the mechanical universe. A world with magic can have these categories be one and the same.
The way that magic works in Deltora reflects this principle. Magic comes from the land itself, and seems to be invested in rare lineages that have strong ties to it - the dragons and the royal Del line, the Torans, the Maris, the Fellans, the sorceress Tamm and the mud of Tier, all (that we know much about) carry magic because their ancestors found meaning and power in the land. And all of their powers are different, and - for the most powerful, still-united groups - used to maintain the connection with the land, and meet the needs of the people.
There is a spring in the Emerald Territory woods that checks whether it likes your inner motivations, and if it doesn't, kills you dead (via dendrification). There is another spring on another continent, this one definitely untouched by human hands until its discovery, that instantly heals wounds both internal and external, and apparently can restore blood to your body, specifically to allow the local yakbeasts to complete their migration and maintain a healthy ecosystem. We have 8 separate known instances of tribes finding - being gifted - extremely powerful magic stones that allow them to unify and defend their people. These are completely nonliving places - that clearly have motivations like people.
In Deltora's universe, in the eternal dialogue between people and the world, the world is actually talking back.
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For the Monday challenge (fics with under 50 bookmarks), I'd like to rec "Bring me a dream" (bring me a dream - sailors_ink - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]) by sailors_ink (@sailing-through-hawkins here on tumblr). A delightfully uncanny little fic in which Kas!Eddie lures Steve to him through song.
bring me a dream by sailors_ink
@sailing-through-hawkins
Rating: Teens and Up
3,477 words, 1/1 chapters
Archive Warning: Chose Not to Use
Tags: Sirens, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Eddie Munson as Kas the Betrayer (Dungeons & Dragons), Eddie Munson LivesMind Control, POV Steve Harrington, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Post-Season/Series 04Ambiguous/Open Ending
Summary:
The song is slow, coiling behind his ear and gently drifting down his shoulders, making him shiver. He thinks he should know the music, humming along to it as the guitar starts to get louder. It feels nice, a comforting chill down his back that eases the tension of his wounds.
His wounds. Robin. Robin, his bat bites still hurt, why does it hurt so much, what's -
Oh, he thinks as the music plays even louder in his ear, in his mind, that's not the radio.
Thanks for the rec!
This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was find fics with less than 50 bookmarks.
Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!
#steddie fic recs#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve x eddie#stranger things#canon compliant#kas eddie munson#sirens#teen and up#challenge monday
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Meet Me On The Other Side
PART TWO: THE UPSIDE-DOWN
gif credit to @ mcbride
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Word Count: 5K
Summary: The Hawkins crew only has eight people in their three-tier plan to take down Vecna. Eddie makes a Hail Mary of a phone call to even the odds.
Warnings: SPOILERS AHEAD, VOL2 FIX-IT, Language, Angst (with a Happy Ending), Intense action, Peril, Graphic Violence, The Upside Down, Demobat attacks, Kisses, Confessions of Feelings, Eddie is still the Hero, But YOU save the day
A/N: This is my version of how the Battle of Vecna went down. Only canon I accept from here on out. Alexa, play Running Up That Hill (Totem Remix).
PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE
( Read on AO3 )
PREVIEW:
Eddie’s face turns, planting a gentle kiss to the center of your palm. “Most metal concert ever.”
“Most metal concert ever,” you repeat, and he opens his eyes to stare at you. “Play like a bat out of hell, Eddie Munson.”
Slowly, but surely, a grin of determination plays against his mouth. He nods and you step off to the side, readying your spiked bat.
Eddie stares into the billowing horizon of blood red clouds and rips the chain holding the guitar pick clear from his throat. His nostrils flare, a multitude of emotions rising to his face — grief, fear, betrayal, anger.
Above all else, there is anger.
“Chrissy, this is for you.”
MEET ME ON THE OTHER SIDE
PART TWO: THE UPSIDE DOWN
.
So this was why they were using Max Mayfield’s trailer as their provisional headquarters.
The Munson household is a mess. Upon entering the once-common hang out spot for the two of you, Eddie warned what would greet you on the other side — keep an open mind, alright? Whatever timeframe this shithole was made happened to also be a week I forgot to clean — but a gaping hole of vines and dirt in the middle of his ceiling leading to a gloomy, radioactive mirror of his living room?
Yeah, that's worse than some dirty laundry.
The glittering, dark portal is not what you pictured, but it isn’t any less terrifying to look at in the flesh.
Something ruffles at your side — on your left stands Dustin Henderson, all Spanish moss and camouflage and donning a light gray, polyester head protector. He looks like a tiny knight ready for battle, straight from a homebrew Dungeons and Dragons campaign.
And he’s beaming up at you like he's bursting to say something.
The rest of the party remains outside, counting weapons and supplies before the final bell tolls. Dustin doesn’t seem too interested in the commotion, not when he’s teetering on his sneakers and waiting for you to speak first.
So you do. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he replies, stuck on a giggle. “So you’re the…”
“I’m the… what?”
"You're the... girl." Dustin’s brows furrow. “The girl. The one Eddie always talks about.”
“Oh?” You shift to turn towards him, ignoring the massive portal in the ceiling for a moment. “Eddie talks about me a lot?”
“You have no idea.”
Yeah. Dustin’s been clambering to talk about this ever since you left your car. That much is obvious by how his shoulders droop, mouth taking off at lightning speed:
“We had to implement, like, an entire ten minutes at the end of each Hellfire debrief so he could update the party about this mystery girl he's been driving to see on weekends because we got sick of hearing about it over and over again — no offense.”
"None taken." A warm glow spreads through your veins like wildfire. “But you’re, uh, Dustin, right? When he comes up to visit me at school, he talks about a Dustin Henderson a lot.”
Dustin perks, curls ricocheting from the force as he gawks up at you. “Really?”
“All the time.”
“What does he say?”
It seems like Dustin admires Eddie just as much as Eddie admires him.
“That you’re really good at foiling all of his planned dungeon crawls and it’s annoying as hell.” That earns a wild, elated laugh from the freshman. “But that just means you’re learning from the best, and you’ve come really far in the game. He’s proud.”
Dustin’s chin drops to his chest to mask the smile bursting at his mouth, all too bashful of the compliments you have to give. The moss at his shoulders bristles as he shrugs.
“So if you’re that girl, then you’re… also the honorary Hellfire member?”
Your brows knit with amusement. “He told you guys about the one shot—”
“—where you killed Eddie’s mimic in one fell swoop? Hell yeah! Holy shit, that was so epic. ”
You laugh at the energetic reaction, shifting the strap of your backpack.
“Guess he does talk about me a lot.”
“Told you. Munson’s totally obsessed with you.” As if he’s spilled a dire secret, Dustin’s eyes widen. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
You shake your head, finger pressing to your lips. “Secret’s safe with me.”
“What are you two conspirators chatting about over here?”
Eddie calls from his bedroom as he walks down the hallway, bandana wrapped tightly around his forehead and covering his bangs. In his palm rests two silver lighters.
“Nothing.”
You don’t anticipate Dustin to answer at the exact same time as you, but it happens. Eddie pauses in his step, apprehension crawling to his expression, but it flutters away as he sucks in a sharp breath and claps his hands together.
“O-kay, weirdos. Keep your secrets. We’ve got the fun part of this whole fuckaroo plan, so I suggest we figure out our own plan of action before we all go, y’know, up that way.”
The three of you simultaneously look up at the gate in question where a dirty mattress takes up most of the living room floor.
“We draw the bats away when Lucas gives the signal that Max is in a… trance, right?” you repeat Nancy’s words.
“Yep,” Dustin confirms. “It should give Nancy, Robin, and Steve enough time to get to the Creel house so they can royally screw over Vecna at his weakest state.” From your peripheral, you see him drop his chin from the ceiling to look at Eddie. “You don’t happen to own any flamethrowers in that trailer on the other side that we might’ve missed, right?”
“Nope, just the flaming chords of rock ‘n roll, my friend,” Eddie replies, clapping his hand down on his shoulder. “And a few lighters for the lady.”
“Lighters?”
“Makeshift flamethrowers,” you supply for Eddie, and he winks in your direction.
“With what?” Dustin asks with emphasis.
“Hairspray,” Eddie adds. “My girl’s got those college smarts working for us.”
My girl.
You don’t have time to react. The trailer door opens swiftly, revealing a weapon-ready Nancy Wheeler.
“We’re ready to go. Lucas and Erica have Max set up in the attic.”
So this was it.
Robin is the next to enter, holding a rope bound in sheets with Steve in tow. The two of them set up the alley-oop on the mattress in this realm, tossing the rope high in the air. The sheets billow perfectly on the other side, dropping with the gate's gravity.
(Trippy.)
Steve, of course, takes the first leap of faith into the dark abyss. Everyone takes a step back as he uses his arms and core strength to hoist up, up… until he falls to the other end, Eddie’s mattress cushioning his fall.
From the other side of the world, Steve Harrington looks at you and grins, thumb raised high in the air.
Nancy’s the next to go, with Robin dropping to one knee to help her ascent. Nancy struggles for a moment, gritting her teeth until she falls gracefully to the other side on her back.
Dustin follows suit, then Robin, leaving you and Eddie still safe in Hawkins.
“C’mon, angel, time to fly,” he murmurs against your ear as he nears you, all too happy with himself for such a corny, B-movie catchphrase.
“Guess P.E. finally comes in handy, huh?” you ask as he slowly drops to one knee, holding his hands out to help hoist you onto the makeshift rope.
“A-yep, that’s why it’s the only class I’m skating by,” Eddie jokes, spotting you as you use what strength you can muster to climb towards the ceiling, refusing to look back.
Suddenly the world is airborne when your arms pass through the threshold of the Upside Down. Your back slams into the sheet-covered mattress, knocking the air clear from your lungs for a beat. Eddie Munson stares up with worry lining his features, face glowing orange from the hue of his living room lamp.
You take Steve’s lead, holding up a quiet confirmation with your thumb extended: I’m good.
He sighs heavily, cursing under his breath before taking the ascent as the final party member to cross the point of no return.
This place is insane. Somehow right under your feet lives a gnarly, horrifying version of Hawkins ready to suck the joy and hope out of anyone who enters. Robin places a small hand on your shoulder after helping you up — you okay? — and all you can do is nod.
Truth is? No, none of this okay, but Eddie needs you.
(They need a fucking third.)
By the time Eddie lands on his back, hair splayed across the orange sheet, you’re there to hold out a hand and help him up. Each person of A- and B-Team files out of Eddie’s warped and vine-filled trailer and into what you can only describe as a waking nightmare.
Lightning billows over red and blue clouds, threatening to near and swallow you hole. Vines suffocate every trailer in the park.
“Hey.”
Before you can step out of the warped Munson household, however, a force tugs you backwards by the hand. The warmth of Eddie’s silver rings encompasses your skin, a stark contrast to the freeze of the Upside Down.
He squeezes and runs his thumb along the back of it, saying nothing with his voice but everything with his eyes.
Are you good?
(As good as you can be.)
You nod once, and he gestures for you to move: ladies’ first.
Eddie’s fingers linger when you pull away to drop down the steps and into the dead grass.
Steve and Robin situate their weapons from their backpacks as Nancy checks the ammo on her modified shotgun. Dustin waits at the bottom of the steps, trashcan shield at the ready.
“Guys? If anything goes wrong?” Steve starts, asserting a leader-esque tone to the crew. “Then we abort the mission.” He pointedly stares at Eddie. “Don’t be a hero.”
“You don’t have to worry about us being heroes,” Dustin answers gleefully for the whole of you, but something is off in the way Eddie stares at Steve.
“Yeah, absolutely,” Eddie answers with the same peppy tone, but his eyes don’t hold the same excitement as Dustin’s.
Steve seems to accept that answer and blinks to you, but there’s something underneath his gaze, something uncertain.
(What are the odds, Harrington?)
He tells you right then and there:
He doesn’t know.
There’s no time to talk when Steve turns on a heel, leading the way for Nancy and Robin to follow. What remains of the party — you, Dustin, and Eddie — stands in a triangle formation, watching the brave soldiers of Hawkins disappear in the smoke and clouds of the Upside Down towards the Creel house.
“Well!”
After a minute, Eddie breaks the silence as he slaps both Dustin and yourself on the shoulder, turning you towards the trailer.
“Time to get to work, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s not die in this shithole.”
“A-men,” Dustin sing-songs, following him back into the vine-possessed trailer once more.
Securing the house feels like it takes ages to accomplish. The only way to keep track of how long you've been down (or up) here comes from Robin and Lucas's small check-ins from the walkie at Dustin’s hip — still no Vecna, still no trance — and the three of you manage to make the Munson trailer a decent fortress for what’s to come next.
As you’re barring one of the living room windows, Eddie sneaks into his bedroom with Dustin trailing close behind.
From the hallway you see him admiring his guitar, still clinging desperately to the mirror vanity where vines don’t touch the instrument.
“What do you say, Henderson?” Eddie begins, plucking the guitar gingerly from its display. “Are you ready for the most metal concert in the history of the world?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Dustin responds, feigning a blasé attitude.
“What about you, angel? Got one hell of a setlist in mind.” You see Eddie turn on a heel, peering over Dustin’s head to grin at you. “You know, Henderson, I remember the first time I played this chick Metallica.”
“Shut up,” you groan, latching a defense blockade to the floor. “He doesn’t want to hear about that.”
“She lost her mind,” Eddie continues, ignoring you. “Never heard any sick solo like that in her life. Kinda like you freaks when we first played them at Hellfire. She was hooked, weren’t you?”
“I was hooked because you were playing,” you correct.
“Yeah, then she converted to the religious house of metal,” he adds, snorting.
You offer a pointed look, trying not to smile. “We need the amps, Ed.”
“Right! Right. Amps. For the roof.” Eddie snaps his fingers. “Do you remember where those are?”
“It’s been, what, six months since my last Corroded Coffin show?” You near the corner of the living room, tapping the amps unaffected by the vines in the walls. “If they’re in the same place as they’ve been since the fifth grade, then I think I can manage.”
"You know me so well, princess."
Dustin finally groans, waving off Eddie. “Oh, Jesus, stop flirting in front of me. Less talking, more music-ing.”
Eddie chuckles, slinging the guitar over his shoulder with a waggle in his brow.
“Let’s do it.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
He’s nervous.
He won’t say it, but Eddie’s nervous.
By some miracle of adrenaline strength, the amps are set up on the trailer roof. Dustin busies his hands with the wires to the right ports like he’s done this before, not bothering to ask you for help or Eddie for guidance. You hand him what’s left to plug in, distracted.
Eddie is on the other end of the trailer roof pacing, slow and deliberate. His head bobs with an invisible tune only he can hear while his fingers press into certain frets.
And he’s like that for most of the set-up: spaced out, keeping occupied.
“You good?” you ask Dustin, and the moss on his shoulders shuffle.
“Yep. Last plug and we’ll be good on Robin’s—”
As if it’s an omen in the flesh, her voice pings on Dustin’s hip.
.
Commence phase three! I repeat, commence phase three!
.
The three of you stop moving, stop speaking, and Eddie finally looks over.
Yeah. He’s petrified.
Standing at full height, you cross the roof with a forced smile. “Hey, rock star, how’s practice going?”
“Like shit,” he laughs softly, humorlessly. “Might fuck up on a solo or five.”
“You? Fuck up a solo?” You scoff. “Yeah, you’ll totally fuck it up.”
“Hey!” There it is. That smile of disbelief, wide and bright. “Damn, way to bring the criticism to my first Upside Down concert.”
“It got you out of your head, though, didn’t it?” You toy with a lock of hair. “First and only, by the way. I’m not making it a habit to come back here.”
“Yeah, neither am I.”
His chin drops, curls shaking as his chest moves with laughter.
“Kind of feels like this is the time where we have our conversa—”
You drop the hand in his hand to grab the fabric of his Hellfire club shirt, pulling him in for an interruption of a kiss. Eddie stumbles, stuck between holding you and holding the guitar in place. He settles with one hand on your cheek, the other holding up the guitar neck.
Eddie leans into the palm of your hand, chasing your touch when you pull away.
“Not until we’re out of this,” you murmur against his lips. “We made a deal, and I got your back.”
“You always do,” he replies just as soft. His face turns, planting a gentle kiss to the center of your palm.
“Most metal concert ever.”
“Most metal concert ever,” you repeat, and he opens his eyes to stare at you. “Play like a bat out of hell, Eddie Munson.”
Slowly, but surely, a grin of determination plays against his mouth. He nods and you step off to the side, readying your spiked bat.
Eddie stares into the billowing horizon of blood red clouds and rips the chain holding the guitar pick clear from his throat. His nostrils flare, a multitude of emotions rising to his face — grief, fear, betrayal, anger.
Above all else, there is anger.
“Chrissy, this is for you.”
The first chord is struck, sending wavelengths of an electric guitar into the abyss of the Upside Down. Soon the melody of Master of Puppets by Metallica deafens you, filling you with an impossible hope that yeah, this could work.
Dustin’s ecstatic by the amp, pushing the limits of the device with every dial to maximum levels. He headbangs as Eddie sends the guitar strings into a frenzy, shouting to the sky.
And Eddie Munson plays like your lives depend on it.
Because they do.
In the distance, shrieks meet the guitar solos as silhouettes of seduced — and massively-sized — demobats start to appear in the lightning storms overhead.
“It’s working!” you shout to Dustin, although the exclamation is not of excitement. You twirl the baseball bat in your hands, swallowing the terror threatening to freeze all your muscles in place.
The bats cover an unbelievable wingspan in the clouds, making them larger than life and equally as scary as Eddie originally claimed.
No going back now.
Phase three had finally commenced.
“C’mon, we gotta take cover!” Dustin shouts over the music.
Eddie abruptly stops playing the thirty seconds of the song when the two of you shout his name to get his attention.
Taking off into a sprint, you slide off the edge of the trailer to the dead grass, temporarily dropping the bat to the ground. Your hands rise to grab Dustin, catching him in his descent, before Eddie follows swiftly with his guitar strap still hanging off his shoulders.
Forcing Eddie and Dustin into the trailer first, you hold the baseball bat in one hand and look just beyond the clouds — the demobats arrive in droves, seemingly agitated by the music by the way they screech in the forever night sky.
It’s Eddie who takes your hand and pulls, locking the bats out of the Munson trailer.
He did it.
(He actually did it.)
A moment of silence passes — then Dustin screams at the top of his lungs:
“Most! Metal! Ever!”
Eddie finally breathes — no, shouts to the ceiling like a madman as Dustin takes into an Energizer bunny hop, clapping his hands.
The two embrace, jumping up and down together with glee.
You haven’t quite caught up on the celebration, so Eddie brings it to you. There is a look in his eye when he turns on his sneaker heel, lost in the haze of mania and bravery, when he crosses the living room. His hand finds the back of your head, palming it with the intent to bring you against him.
Except he doesn’t kiss you, not at first.
Because he speaks when he’s pulling you in.
Eddie doesn’t even realize, but you catch what he says as soon as his lips are on yours.
“I love you.”
You enthusiastically meet him in the kiss, but when those three simple words process in the back of your mind, you stop. Freeze.
Eddie pauses, too, when time catches up to the now.
Eye to eye and out of breath, the sweat on his brow dampens the bandana circling his forehead. His gaze softens, Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow.
“I love you,” he repeats, resigned and relieved.
No fanfare. No fireworks.
No rousing speeches or Dungeons and Dragons monologues, but the truth in its rawest form.
(He loves you.)
“Oh, shit!”
Dustin’s high-pitched shriek startles you both, causing Eddie to pull you into his side for protection. Dustin runs into the hallway, tossing a spear to Eddie. The metalhead lets go of you to catch it.
“I heard something. Outside, guys, I heard something mov—”
A thud lands above your heads.
Fear begins to creep its way back into your chest.
“They’re on the roof,” you whisper, corralling Dustin behind you as you pick up the baseball bat from the floor.
The noise travels, tinkering on small paws, and the C-Team follows it into the hallway towards Eddie’s bedroom.
The sound makes it way to the side of the trailer as if scaling the perimeter.
Then, with no warning, a demobat screeches and shoves its way through the vent at the juncture of the bedroom wall.
Dustin and Eddie scream simultaneously, going into fight mode with their spears. They stab relentlessly as the creature howls and writhes, trying to wriggle its way in.
“Get it, get it, get it!”
“I’m trying!” Eddie shouts over Dustin.
You cross the triangle into the middle of them, slamming the bat down with all your might on top of the demobat’s head.
It has one final cry, wings outstretched, before falling limp to the floor.
Dustin holds onto your arm, peering around it. “Is it…”
“Dead?” You finish. You feel him nod against your sleeve. “I… think so?”
Eddie rushes to place his makeshift Iron Maiden-esque shield over the vent as a cover, leaving him with just his spear — just in time for several shrieks to sound off outside the trailer.
The demobats swarm the windows, battering the trailer to rock back and forth from their intense assault.
They know something’s in there.
They want in.
“Ho-kay, I think it’s time to go,” Dustin sing-songs as he rushes to the mattress leading to the sheet rope still hanging idle for an escape.
Eddie swiftly closes the bedroom door behind you as all three of you run to the rope, preparing for departure.
“Junior Metalheads first,” Eddie implores, and Dustin doesn’t need to be told twice.
With the assistance of Eddie, you help the smaller freshman up the ladder, relishing in his relief when Dustin’s back hits the Hawkins mattress.
But when you grab the rope, something feels off.
Eddie isn’t helping you. Instead, he’s standing there motionless, staring at a window currently getting slammed by demobats.
“Munson.”
His last name wakes him to a point where looks at you — really, really looks at you — then drops to his knees to take the shield Dustin Henderson dropped while climbing.
“They’re gonna bust through the windows,” he tells you.
Anguished, distant cries of demobats fills the dead air of the room.
Your stomach drops through the floor.
“Eddie, we have to go.”
Dustin yells from the ceiling, waving his arms wildly. “What are you doing? Let’s go, climb!”
“I can buy time.”
Eddie’s expression twists with the words he can’t say:
I’m not going with you.
“Watch after Henderson for me, alright?”
You swipe to grab his arm. “Eddie—!”
Too late.
He turns before it’s too late, bolting with a spear and shield towards the now-opened front door of the trailer.
Dustin screams from overhead — Eddie! Eddie! — and you’re left with a decision you already made the second you drove to Hawkins.
“Dustin!” you shout over the sound of the bats. His eyes are glossy, expression pained and frightened. “Stay there. We need someone to watch the rope. I’ll grab Eddie!”
“Get him back!” he calls back, voice hoarse and crackled.
“I will,” you tell him, but you’re not sure if he hears you. Your voice doesn’t feel like your own, scratchy and sudden and scared.
Your feet run across the living room and into the night air of the Upside Down before you realize what’s happening.
From a short distance, you see him: shield strapped to his back, Eddie Munson takes off down the dirt road on a bicycle as the swarm of demobats follow.
Shit.
A bike.
Abikeabikeabike— There.
By Max Mayfield’s house sits a rusted, but doable bike. You sprint across the street to grab it, careful not to lose your backpack as you mount and pedal.
He’s fast. Stupidly fast, and stupidly taunting the bats as they swoop to attack him. You can hear him shouting up ahead, but the words are lost on you as the adrenaline pumps through your body and pushes your legs to move faster.
A demobat dive bombs from the left, knocking Eddie clear off his bike.
He skitters across the dirt, kicking up dust as he rolls, only to howl in pain when a bat latches onto his side.
A second flies down, attacking his shoulder.
No.
“Eddie!”
Pedaling with every ounce of energy in your body, the bicycle skids to a halt and to the ground when you breach the hurricane of bats circling overhead. Eddie’s writhing and screaming, pushing at the bat to get it away.
“Get the hell away from him!”
You open the backpack to rip out a full can of hairspray, fumbling in your pocket for the first of two silver lighters, and flick.
The flame catches its attention, causing one of the demobats to unlatch itself from Eddie’s side to lunge for you. When you press down on the aerosol spray, a billowing flame shoots directly into it.
The bat lights up the forever night in a brilliant, screaming glow of orange.
The creature flails, trying to fight off the fire as it surges into the sky. You swing the makeshift flamethrower to your right, covering the second demobat completely in fire.
It curls into itself with a whimper, dying on impact to the ground only a mere few feet from where you stand, clearing a path directly to Eddie.
Wasting not a single second more, you crawl against the dirt and kneel protectively in front of him with the hairspray can and lighter at the ready. The rest of the swarm seems to understand, and they collectively scream in anguish and back off.
Eddie Munson shifts at your side, moaning in pain before realizing what’s warded off his attackers. He follows the glow of the lighter to settle his attention on you, his pale hand covering his wounded and bleeding side.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Making a saving throw,” you answer, briefly glancing over your shoulder.
“With a—”
“Told you hairspray was a good idea,” you interrupt breathlessly, trying to crack a joke at impending doom.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he croaks, grimacing on the ground. “You were supposed to climb the rope.”
“And you weren’t supposed to be a hero.”
The swarm moves faster in the sky, nearing closer to the ground as a few dip to test the waters.
“How much of that hairspray stuff do you have?”
“Four bottles. Two lighters.”
Eddie growls as he forces himself to a seat, legs tucking under him to stand. You quickly duck your arm under his armpit to keep him from falling. He attempts to stand, but ultimately crumbles back to the ground. You follow, dropping the hairspray.
With the amount of cuts on his face and next, there must have been other bats who had gotten hits on him while biking that you hadn’t witnessed. Except he’s not worried about himself. Not with the way he’s toying with the ends of your hair, swallowing to coat his dry throat.
“You gotta go back for Henderson.”
“No.”
“You promised me—”
“I didn’t say shit, Eddie Munson. You don’t get to say you love me then run out the goddamn door thinking I’m okay with you dying without me,” you bite, looking up at a bat deviating from the circle to dip its claws into the center of the circle.
(You don’t have much time before they all attack.)
“Because I love you, too.”
When you drop your chin, Eddie stares with wide, glossy eyes and parted lips.
Shocked. Somehow, after everything, he’s still shocked.
“Of course I love you,” you murmur, softer this time. “It’s always been you.”
You gently let go of his back to pick up the aerosol can, readying the lighter.
“And I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”
Eddie’s expression shifts and he nods adamantly, catching a second wind despite the odds. He picks up his spear from the ground, coating his palm with dirt, congealed blood, and tiny pebbles. The swarm overhead shrieks in triumph — biding time for an attack.
Back to back you both rise, using each other for support as you take a final stand.
This is it.
This is how you go out.
You draw in a slow, steady inhale, waiting.
Watching.
The first demobat leaves the circle and drops, claws out, to attack. You ignite the air with fire and catch its wing as it curls away. Eddie must have stabbed a bat for himself, because the squelch of metal hitting a body fills the air.
A dozen fall out of formation, flying at full force.
You can’t take so many at once.
But as they fly, they fall.
Dozens grow quiet, silent, and fall together in an unceremonious harmony of whimpers and gasps at your feet. Eddie presses up against your back and you follow, staying impossibly close, as the bats… grow still.
As if they’ve all died at once.
“...what just happened?” Eddie whispers, too afraid to speak.
You wet your chapped lips, shaking your head. “I don’t… I don’t know. Are they dead?”
Eddie takes the literal plunge, poking a nearby demobat with the tip of his spear. It doesn’t move. It doesn’t breathe.
They’re all virtually gone.
The pressure against your back disappears, and a thud drops behind you.
When you turn, Eddie crumbles to the ground, gritting his teeth.
“Eddie?” You drop to your knees, cradling him with terrified urgency. “Hey, Eds — hey. Stay with me.”
He’s breathing, but his eyes flutter closed, hand dropping from his bloody side to the dirt road.
Something bright flashes against your forehead, hitting your eye and forcing you to look up. There are three people running — people, real live people — and you recognize the flopping hair of the person in the middle of the formation immediately.
“Steve!”
With all your might, you scream his name across the way without a care for what monster might hear.
Robin reflects her flashlight to you, stops, then takes it into a sprint.
“Man down!” Robin shouts. “Guys, man down!”
“He got attacked!” you shout, only then realizing your face is wet from an overflow of tears. “We have to help him across the portal, he—”
Steve skids like a baseball player to Eddie’s opposite side, yanking his limp arm over his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he reassures, voice calm and collected. “It’s alright, we’ll get him back safe. It’s over.”
“Vecna?” you whimper as you help Steve push to his feet, bringing Eddie to a stand. The man’s head lulls, chin bent to his chest.
“Dead.” Nancy rushes to your side to spot Eddie from behind.
“In flames,” Robin describes with absolution laced in her voice.
It takes the effort of all four of you, but you manage to drag Eddie into the dilapidated Munson trailer. Robin flops to the other side, spotting Eddie’s unconscious descent to the other side with Dustin as you, Nancy, and Steve raise him across the finish line.
He’s safe.
Eddie’s injured, but he’s alive and safe.
Once he’s cleared from the mattress, you climb to the ceiling and return to the warmth of Hawkins.
And when Steve is the last to ascend, falling with a heavy breath of years’ awaited relief, the portal to the Upside Down in Eddie Munson’s trailer closes.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things spoilers#fix it au#fix it fanfiction
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Palace of Night
Summary: Fixing Cazador’s old manor to be less of a horror-show is more of a task than expected…it’s even worse when the previous homeowner shows back up.
“Ok Wyll & Karlach have the kitchen, Gale & Shadowheart have the library, Lae’zel and Halsin are tackling the dungeons, Roger and allegra called dibs on the wine cellar and Jaheira is cleaning the bedrooms” Cyris listed off of sections of the manor everyone had taken “which leaves the garden and the ballroom”, “we should all tackle the garden later, there's a mausoleum of ghouls there that I’d rather not disturb right now” Astarion groaned “repainting and wallpapering the ballroom sounds more relaxing”.
Cyris helped Astarion bring in the buckets of red, black, lavender and pink paint as well as the similar pallet wallpaper. Cazador liked black and red too but his color of red was more scarlet than sanguine-crimson, a bright eye-hurting red that drove Cyris crazy looking at it, he was glad to be painting over it with a nice soothing strawberry pink.
The original black wallpaper had little decaled motifs of…people being torchered…that definitely had to go, instead the black wallpaper that replaced it had a night sky motif, with hundreds of little shimmering stars and moons and little bats.
The painted frescoes of blood and murder on the ballroom walls were being painted over by Astarion, he had an eye for fancy art, he had taken up painting as a hobby in his past life before Cazador…that much he remembered. He never painted much after his transformation…until now…
Now…he could really unleash his inner artist again.
He decided that sun-light fields of lavender, bleeding hearts, strawberries and plum trees would be a much better fit.
“Those trees…plums?” Cyris curiously turned to him as he now put up the pink wallpaper, “you love strawberries, I love plums” Astarion hummed, “hmm…any specific type, sugarfangs?” Cyris pondered, “haha…now that you mention it I absolutely craved burgundy sugarplums, the deeper the red the teastier”.
Cyris grinned “Then tonight I’am making sugarplum crumble for you darlin~”, Astarion chuckled “I’d quite enjoy that.”
There was a loud bang and a crash.
Astarion and Cyris rushed into the kitchen to find it an absolute mess…
“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPEND?” Astarion screamed, “I don’t know shit just started attacking us!” Karlach yelled as a pot zipped past her head.
“I think it might be a poltergeist!” Wyll screeched as forks chased after him, Cyris used his abilities as a cleric of twilight to reveal the ghost, nothing escapes his vigilant eyes…
It took…the whole team of 4 people…to kill the ghost…of a FUCKING rat.
A rat…that was the poltergeist…an undead rat…
Astarion and Cyris had gone back to painting and fixing up the wallpaper while laughing up a storm about it all, Karlach was helping tend to all of Wyll’s little scratches and cuts as they too had a good laugh about the fight with a rat.
Eventually everybody took a break and Cyris stopped to cook them lunch, the kitchen was now usable enough to make a dish he learned how to make at the gambling den, it was a sort of bread dish with sauce, cheese and various toppings on top. Cyris made different ones for everybody…
Wyll, Karlach, Jaheira and Allegra all had one with various toppings of meat.
Lae’zel and Roger shared one with anchovies.
Gale, Shadowheart and Halsin had just plain cheese.
And Astarion and Cyris had sausage, blood mixed in the sauce, olives and mushrooms.
To go with lunch Jaheira made them all big pictures of sugary lemon water, it was a nice combo after a hard day of work clearing out leftover traps and cleaning.
“I am NOT looking forward to killing those ghouls…” Shadowheart groaned, “Eh I wouldn’t mind smashing some ghouly face in!” Karlach grinned, “some of us should go back to Monty’s and get our stuff so we can start moving in” Lae’zel added as she bit into her slice of bread.
“Karlach, Halsin, Jaja and Allegra will clear out the ghouls” Astarion said, “Zel you and Shads go back to Monty’s and grab our stuff. Gale, Wyll, Roger and Cyris will pick up the rest of the stuff we need to fix this place up. I’ll stay here and clean up lunch”.
Everybody paired up and left for their tasks, “you ok by yourself?” Cyris held Astarion’s hand, “oh darling, what could go wrong?”
A lot…
Astarion was peacefully picking out new curtains when he felt a chill crawl down his spine like a skittering spider, he tried to ignore it “it’s just the old house being creepy, once every last bit of HIM is gone then it will go away” he reminded himself “now should I go with the cream curtains or the ivory?...”
“What. in. the. HELLS have you done to MY HOUSE!?” a slithering, nasally voice hissed, Astarion whirled around…HE stood there.
Cazador.
He had returned…the bastard had indeed gotten enough courage to come back.
“Lavender?...PINK!...and..and you are scribbling on the walls!” Cazador shook his head “tisk, tisk, Child you WILL BE punished for this…SEVERELY” he snarled, Astarion growled and readied his crossbow and daggers “you don’t scare me anymore”.
The fight took place all over the ballroom, they clashed like twisting serpents, leaping from the floor to the walls to even the ceiling!
Vampires could cling to any surface like glue, their battle was not restricted to one terrain.
“I DON'T UNDERSTAND!” Cazador huffed as Astarion dodged his sword swipes “HOW?! How are you able to do this!?”, “like I said before, cazzy, I am more than a spawn!” Astarion screamed as he hurled Cazador into a wall with his Strigoi strength.
Cazador whistled and suddenly armed guards in strange armor crashed through the windows, aiming crossbows at Astarion.
Astarion instinctively misted away and turned into a little white bat, camouflaging himself in the fallen white curtains.
“These men…they are from Gortash’s personal militia” Astarion realized, he had to deal with them before he could stop Cazador, once and for all.
Astarion observed them…they were all in light armor “good this will be reasonably easy”, He cast the spell “Darkness”.
One by one he baited them in, poofing in and out of bat form, he had never drained a person to death before let alone 12 people…
Gods he was full…
Cazador…looked almost…frightened.
“What in the hells are you?...”, “hungry…that's what…” Astarion maliciously grinned.
Astarion had read in Gale’s strigoi book that the whole “vampire lord/master must WILLINGLY give their blood to their spawn inorder to free them” was complete bullshit. No, Astarion could just TAKE it, TAKE his place as a vampire lord.
Astarion misted behind Cazador and pinned him to the floor, he sank his fangs in…
Astarion drank…and drank…and drank…
He could feel his already distended stomach grow heavier, 12 people…er well 13 now each containing at least 1 to 2 gallons of blood…
The average person’s stomach could only hold about 4 liters…
But Astarion was not the average person…nor a normal vampire…
Turns out strigoi had stomachs like mosquitoes…
Cazador screamed the whole time, going on and on about how Astarion could not do this…well he was…and the bastard was powerless to stop him.
He finally whent quiet and limp…
When he was dry Astarion threw him aside like the trash he was…
He didn’t even taste that good.
“Gods…” Astarion groaned and placed a hand to his gut “this…this was a bad idea.”
He collapsed to the floor, he was just so full and so tired…
Cyris and the guys decided to come back to the house early, while picking up the rest of the decorations Cyris had bought something for Astarion he knew he would like, a burgundy sugarplum sapling.
He bought it so that when it grew up and started fruiting they could have fresh home-grown plums right out of their own garden.
“Sugarfangs~” he called out “I’am home little darlin~” there was no reply…and the stench of fresh blood was…potent.
“Shit!” Cyris dropped the sapling on the dining room table and rushed into the ballroom…
“Oh my…” Gale gasped, Wyll and Roger gawked at the sight before them as Cyris stood in utter shock.
12 dead mercenaries of Gortash’s insignia, Cazador’s desiccated drained corpse…and Astarion…curled up on his side with a very full stomach.
“I knew something happened” Cyris grumbled.
“Oof…uhg…ow” Astarion groaned as he got up, Cyris helped him “so tell me what exactly happened?”, “I (hic) was attacked…but (hic)...I managed to keep myself safe” Astarion hiccuped, “next time someone is staying behind, this was too close” Cyris grumbled.
That night as Astarion fussed and worried about his figure, Cyris took a closer look at the merc’s bodies, their boots having a familiar scent to them…
“The sewers…ew…the fuck is it with shady criminal underbellies and the sewers?...”
“Uhg darling this is really bad!” Astarion whined “look at me!” he flopped onto their bed, his belly had gone down somewhat but a small mound of pale flesh still remind, “oh stop it’ll be gone by morning” Cyris assured him and gave the vampire a loving kiss, “humf…I hope so” he grumbled.
“We’ll have to make another trip to the sewers” Cyris sighed, “ugh why!?”, “the merc’s wreak of it, I think Cazador may have had another base down working with Gorty there and if he did…”, Astarion’s face saddened “then there might be more spawn he’s torchered and kept prisoner”.
“Looks like we’re on a rescue mission, sugarfangs” Cyris turned to him “and it looks like Bloodcrystal Veil is going to get some more residents”.
#baldur's gate 3#fanfic#dnd character#werebat#astarion x oc#baldurs gate astarion#batstarion#dnd#vampire#fluff#domestic fluff#astarion loves plums
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Death Valley
Pairing: Mammon/[SE] Saeran Choi
Crossover: Shall We Date? Obey Me / Mystic Messenger.
Description: The Devildom is the space between Earth and Hell. But, if you were to ask Saeran Choi, he'd tell you there isn't a difference. To him, it's all a living Hell that exists to remind him that no matter how far away he gets from his past, he'll always be reminded by the universe that he's nothing but a pawn for others to use for personal gain.
Word Count: 14,660
[Read On AO3]
The phantom in his dream spoke to him, his mouth moving but with no words, and his outstretched hand beckoning Saeran to join him as blood seeped from his eyes and flames licked the edges of these memories. He couldn’t run from the man nor did he try after countless times of having the very same dream over and over again.
He just stood there, body feeling sicker by the minute, knowing that this dream would have to come to an end eventually so he could deal with a different Hell. While the dream wouldn’t always be the same, this moment was. The moment when his hand felt like lead and his heart was pounding in his throat as if throwing it up would take away the pain. Again and again. He had the same nightmare and the same scene would follow him as if it were a penance to pay.
Why fight the nightmares when he knew there was no point?
“...”
Normally when Saeran woke up in the dead of night, it was because his skin was drenched in sweat and his heart was palpitating so fast that he couldn’t breathe. He was used to nightmares. Nightmares were a part of his very existence and for him to exist without them would be to exist as someone who wasn’t Saeran Choi. That might’ve been nice for a change but he didn’t expect that to happen any time soon.
It wasn’t like the universe was going to throw someone like him a bone. It felt like he was being purposefully punished for the sins he had committed whilst manipulated and twisted by the powers of vindictive revenge and the toxic cocktail of drugs Rika graciously gave him the minute she had him in a dungeon to do as she pleased.
He wasn’t some sniveling victim that had suffered time and time again at the hands of a hungry lion batting him around for sport as opposed to a meal, but he also wasn’t just a monster who stalked his prey, just waiting for an opening that would let him get a taste to satiate his desire for blood. He was both of those things at the same time. He was a perpetrator and a victim at the hands of the human world’s cruel game of power and control. Would he dare admit that to anyone?
No. It’d taken his shoddy therapist months to get him to accept that he could be susceptible to violence and a purveyor of violence. If he’d been the man he was when the gun was locked and loaded, he knew he wouldn’t have taken too kindly to someone implying he was weak. Weakness was the very thing that had him locked in a basement until he finally snapped. He had to be strong because anything less than that had no chance to survive in Mint Eye.
Strength was a maker of survival.
Nothing less than that was accepted.
Those lessons were ingrained into his sins no matter how many years had passed. His brother would argue it wasn’t his fault, but Saeran knew better than that. He knew what he was and knew what he did. He didn’t regret it. That was the very part that made him a real monster, right? His guilt, shame, grief, and terror meant nothing when he could say he felt no regret over making everything stop once and for all.
Even if stopping everything came at the cost of his supposed eternal afterlife. Not that Saeran believed much in God. How could he when he spent his childhood begging and pleading with the stars to take him away from the agony of isolation and abuse? He couldn’t be like his older brother who wanted to take solace in faith to feel better about his suffering. No, he was far too bitten and sullen to look at the Heavens and expect an answer when he was always left to rot.
It didn’t matter if he wasn’t in the right mind that day. It didn’t matter if he didn’t think about the trajectory of his gun when they cornered him like a caged animal. His hands were bruised and bloody from his sin and that’s why the spectator with blue hair wouldn’t leave any nightmares. That man in his nightmares wouldn’t go away for a reason. He was there because he just couldn’t leave well enough alone. He didn’t think Saeran was deserving of peace.
That’s why Saeran was in Hell.
No, that was why his life was a living Hell, but he could say it wasn’t why he was in literal Hell. Or, rather, the Devildom. As he had learned not even a few hours prior, there was a distinct difference between Hell and the Devildom. The Devildom was the place where the Devil and his demons had lived since the dawn of creation, and Hell was where the souls of the damned were housed for their varying crimes against humanity during their lives.
It turned out everything humans thought they knew about religion was wrong.
The distinction mattered because it happened to be the same for Heaven. It was split between a realm for angels and a realm for souls deemed worthy of salvation. The Celestial Realm and Heaven. Saeran wanted no part of it. It sounded no different than the garbage he’d been sold in Mint Eye. If he had a say, he’d avoid anything to do with religion. Saeyoung should’ve been shoved into this situation since he was the one who gave a damn about this.
Why go through that again? Why continue on a merry-go-round? Why subject himself to the whims of a God when he just earned free will? No, he’d rather belong to himself and nobody else if there was the semblance of choice at stake. He would’ve preferred to spend the time he had underneath the sun until it could be taken away like everything else he ever wanted. He wasn't asking for gold, wealth, fame, or a lifetime of happiness. All he wanted was the sunshine.
But, what was his life but a sick joke, anyway?
That was all he wanted. It was too much to ask for, apparently, given the fact that he was pulled into the Devildom against his will by devils who wanted him to play peacemaker for a problem he didn’t create and had no real stake in. He could’ve cared less if humanity was destroyed. As long as he got to look at the sky and remind himself that he wasn’t locked away in a tight cellar, that was all he needed for a tolerable existence.
But, there was no sunlight in this realm. The only light came from a moon that floated above the clouds with constellations, very much unlike the ones on Earth. Artificial light would never come within a mile of the relief that sunshine gave him but it was the only thing offered to him by these demons that claimed to be his hosts. Frankly, the nonsense that the Lord of the Devildom spouted from the minute Saeran realized he wasn’t having an episode had gone in one ear and out the other. Something about a goal to unite the realms by hosting guests from each at a university in Hell.
Saeran had no experience with academia, but considering the number of times he’d heard Yoosung Kim whine and complain in the RFA’s messenger, it didn’t surprise him to hear that there was some college in the middle of Hell. Although, it made more sense to torture the souls of the damned with this experience than to torture a demon with it. It wasn't his place to argue about it, but it wasn’t like anything in his life ever made sense. There was no such thing as rational thought in Saeran’s world.
It was nothing but people talking over him about things he didn’t understand, and they expected him to learn without anything to work with. It wasn't the first time somebody expected him to get with the picture without explaining how to, and it wouldn't be the last given this was the third time he had been forced to walk into something he didn't consent to. At the very least, they could have spent more time trying to acclimate him to the fact that everything he thought he knew was a lie, but they did nothing of the sort.
After the Demon Lord and Lucifer gave him a simple run-down of their expectation, he was sent back to where he would be staying for a year. For some reason, they decided he was a good representation of humanity considering he was one of only two humans in an exchange program to unite the realms. He was to attend the R.A.D. University for two semesters and write about what it taught him about Hell, Heaven, and the connection between the two as a human exposed to things he hadn’t been allowed to see before.
No amount of protesting did him much good, though. They weren’t going to send him packing back to Seoul. He was chosen from every other candidate possible for a reason, and they didn’t take a “no” for an answer. It was shirked off with promises that he would be just fine if he was afraid to be around countless immortal beings that could’ve killed him with a simple exhale. Saeran wasn’t scared. He was irritated that he was spoken over and a decision was made for him. He didn’t care if he died. He hadn’t cared about living in a long time.
He just didn’t attempt to get rid of himself. At least, he hadn’t actively tried anything since three years prior when his twin had taken him from the hospital and brought him home. He was too tired to care anymore. There was no reason to, and it would be too much of a hassle at this point. The only reason he kept living was that there were little things he enjoyed doing that he couldn’t have if he was gone. He wanted to see the sky, he wanted to have ice cream every day, and he wanted to sleep for hours instead of catching a few seconds of rest before a hand slammed against his desk to remind him of his place.
Saeran sighed, running a hand through his damp hair as if it made any difference, looking over to the D.D.D. that sat on the side of the bed. It was still too early for him to worry about greeting his hosts. That was another problem.
For some reason, they decided that he was so vulnerable that he had to be with the strongest entities in the realm. They didn’t think to send him to stay with the other human they’d kidnapped, nor did they send him to stay with the angels they invited. No, they sent him into what could only be considered a den of monsters. Monsters were supposed to protect him… and the only reason why they had to do so was that their king ordered it.
If that changed at any time, he wouldn’t have a say in the matter. His fate was in their hands until the year was said and done with.
It was funny, actually, in a macabre way.
That was the plan he had crafted for MC when he decided that he would use them as the target to manipulate the RFA by playing a canary in a coal mine. He wanted to use them as a lure to drag the RFA into Mint Eye, which was the human equivalent of whatever the hell this place was. Now, he’d become the canary in a coal mine. Except, this time, there wouldn’t be anyone listening to the sounds of his voice for a sign of danger.
He never thought he would be in their position, but he could get the reason why MC had been wary of him once he’d regained clarity. He did apologize before but now he felt like he owed them more of an apology. More than anything, this felt like an inconvenience. He could see how his actions made quite a nuisance in their life now more than ever. He had no idea who any of these people were and he had no choice but to get to know them for his survival.
Saeran had seven glorified babysitters. They weren’t as powerful as Lord Diavolo, but in terms of their abilities, they fell underneath him as they held dominion over a ring of Hell that coordinated with their title. The Seven Rulers of the Devildom were given their powers by the deadly sins. Depending on how humanity waxed and waned with their desires over the ions, it would supply them with everything they needed to remain in control.
Pride, greed, envy, lust, wrath, gluttony, and sloth; All hallmarks of what a person could consider the worst in humanity.
He was sleeping only a few inches away from the personification of torment. Any normal person might have wet their pants by now, but all Saeran felt was exhaustion from his nightmare. He’d been the same as a demon for a better part of the last few years of his life.
Why should he have been terrified of any of them?
They could do their worst and Saeran wouldn’t care. He was numb to fear unless something dredged it out of him against his will. Intimidation meant nothing to him. How could anybody get under his skin when he was the person who did that to others for years?
That’s why he’d wanted to laugh when Lucifer sized him up when he stared at them, blank-faced. He knew fear better than they did. There was nothing they could do to torment him when he had already tormented himself enough. Still, he didn't like interacting with anybody one-on-one and now he was being subjected to it whether he liked it or not. The only good thing about living with his brother had been that he was granted whatever space he wanted for the most part… at least, until Saeyoung wanted to bond and reclaim something that would never go back to the way it was when they were boys.
It was easy to avoid people when there were only three people in the bunker. Going out of his way to avoid seven people was going to be next to impossible. Well, that is, if any of them wanted to bother a measly human in the first place. If they wanted to make this easy, Saeran would make it the easiest job in the world for them. They would only have to take turns tossing him between the college and back.
He wouldn’t bother doing anything else, and they could get along swimmingly if that system was an easy enough bargain. It could benefit everybody involved and keep demons from making a fuss when there was no need to make one in the first place. He didn't know nor care if everybody wanted to go along with this Exchange program or not. But, if there were people who could’ve cared less about it, that would’ve made it a lot easier.
Why make a nuisance of themselves?
He wasn’t here to go sightseeing.
If he treated it like a job and went about it the same way he had when he was trapped in his workroom, it would be over sooner than he could say he hated it here. It wasn't like they told him to take a tour of the place. All he had to do was do the work that was given to him and write a paper in the end. It could be easy enough as long as he detached himself from the forefront of his mind and let things run out on autopilot. It was better than being stuck on a boat with Saeyoung, he reminded himself.
Being around Saeyoung and MC could be suffocating. Even if he could tolerate them much better now than he could in the beginning, he often felt like a third wheel. He was just along for the ride without a say about his fate.
There were reasons why he couldn't get up and leave the bunker, but considering he had nothing to do with Saeyoung and MC’s lives extended with the RFA, Saeran spent most of his time by himself in the garden he cultivated. He valued his alone time. He didn’t want to be around his brother’s personal life. Saeyoung could do whatever he wanted with MC and the RFA, but Saeran would stay far away from it for the sake of his health. He didn't want a relationship with any of them, but he was okay with having that bare minimum with Saeyoung and MC. It was good enough for him.
Isolation was Saeran’s bread and butter.
He acclimated to solitude like it was the essence of his soul.
All things considered, it wasn’t so bad that he was stuck in the Devildom, after all. He didn’t have to deal with his twin brother’s paranoia and smothering. He had no clue what they told his family since he’d disappeared without a trace. Saeyoung wasn’t the type to take no for an answer when it came to something suspicious. Technically, he and his brother weren’t supposed to exist in the first place concerning any government documents.
So, how he’d been chosen was beyond him, but the fact was he was relieved that Saeyoung couldn’t reach him here if he wanted.
Saeran had no service on his phone that connected him to the human world. Sure, it wouldn’t have taken much for him to figure out the specifications that this realm used to have this level of tech in the first place. There had to be some connection to the human world beyond the use of some magic. If he played with his D.D.D., he figured he could bypass everything to let his brother know the situation just to stop him from going on a warpath.
But, he was so exhausted at this point that he couldn't bring himself to care enough to try. If they went to this much trouble to kidnap him in the first place, then they certainly had the plan to take care of his brother, too. If they didn't, that would be a problem for another day.
“Ugh.”
Saeran pulled the covers over his head and decided it was worth the risk of nightmares for him to get another hour or two of sleep. He’d need it.
Chapter 2
“Listen here, human, I don’t want to go around wastin’ my time,” Mammon walked like he was more or less determined to abandon him. After a rowdy breakfast where Asmodeus attempted to use charm on him to no avail, the sloshing sounds of Beelzebub crunching something between his teeth, the idle chatter of Levi’s handheld device flashing underneath the table, Satan’s pointed jabs at Lucifer at every chance he got, and the irritated static that seemed to be illuminating from Lucifer as he drank coffee, it was a relief to be out of that place.
His first impression of the Avatars of Sin was less than savory. There wasn’t much to say about it apart from how quickly they’d test his patience soon enough.
“As if I want to waste mine, either,” Saeran scoffed. The uniform they provided was thick enough that he couldn’t feel the coarse wind he’d felt on the walk over the day before. It wasn’t like he had plans to do anything in the Devildom apart from his tasks, but this demon had an attitude he could’ve cared a lot less for. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this since you seem to shirk your job most of the time, but I didn’t ask to come here.”
He’d been abandoned in the House of Lamentation after Mammon pointed him in the direction of his room. Saeran had no complaints about that. It was obvious the Avatar of Greed had better things to do with his time than worry about some measly human. Gamble, swindle, pick-pocket… whatever the hell the demon wanted to do was more enticing than dealing with a human that didn’t belong in this realm in the first place.
Mammon didn’t bother to look back at him, “Yeah, well, that ain’t matter now, does it? We’re both in this mess and there ain’t no gettin’ out of it. As long as I make sure y’ain’t dead, that’s all that’s in it for me. Lucifer will rip me to shreds and hang whatever’s left from the roof if you get killed. So, as long as ya’ keep up with me and be a good little human, we won’t have any problems.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, flatly. His blue eyes narrowed as the main hall for the R.A.D. steadily came into view. Saeran didn’t have the energy to keep up his irritation but he had no control over what his tone became when he was pushed into a corner. “I want to get this over with about as much as you do, demon.”
Mammon’s brief silence seemed to indicate he was thinking about something. He nodded his head a few times and said, “Good, good. Glad we’re at an understandin’, human. This’ll be easy, then. If ya’ understand whatcha’ gotta do, we ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. The Great Mammon doesn’t have a lot of time to spare for a meddlesome human, so if y’ain’t got dreams of makin’ trouble, I ain’t gonna complain.”
The last thing Saeran wanted to deal with was trouble.
He would’ve preferred for them to kill him and get it over with before that happened. It would save everybody a whole lot of trouble. If he was going to be used against his will continually, he would be better off that way, too. If it meant that he wouldn't have to continue going through life being pulled into a situation that he never asked for, the demons could do everybody a favor and get rid of him in a matter of seconds.
All of the Avatars of Sin made it very clear that they could’ve killed him before he’d even figured out what happened to him.
As soon as they arrived at the R.A.D. Saeran was surprised by the massive size of the building. When he had been summoned to the Student Council room, he hadn’t taken the foresight to look around at any of it. But, it truly was a sight to behold. It was no different than a gothic castle, surrounded by all kinds of interlocked and interconnected buildings where demons spent their time furthering their education in whatever it was they studied.
Saeran still wasn’t entirely sure what demons could study considering they didn’t have a society that fluctuated around the dollar like the human world. There was no reason for any of them to study how to do something in the name of a career. He couldn't see a purpose in their existence since there was no reason to do anything but exist in the cold, unwavering void of eternal life. What could they do with all the time in the world?
Perhaps, they had more time to think about intellectual pursuits down to the very minuscule detail. If they were able to live for thousands of years, if not until the end of time, they could study anything in the world and spend hundreds of years becoming practical in their pursuit. It made little sense when he thought about it. But, if you had all the time in the world to do whatever you wanted and death couldn’t stop you, there was no limit to what someone could do.
He couldn't imagine surviving the next five minutes ahead of him, much less for centuries. It sounded more agonizing than death in his opinion.
“Ya’ know, human, if yer’ scared, y’ain’t gotta pretend like y’ain’t,” Mammon said. It was the first time he offered any words that didn’t sound like a backhanded insult. He opened the tall doorway that had loomed over Saeran’s average stature. “I figure a human who didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout this would be scared outta their mind. Either yer’ a good pretender or y’ain’t got no sense. Ya’ know how easy it’d be for someone to gobble ya’ up?”
Saeran looked at him plainly as he entered the building. “You have more to learn about humans who don’t give a shit about whether they live or die. I have nothing to lose, demon. Nothing.”
—
“So, you’re the one that’s staying with the brothers,” a voice spoke from his left as Saeran returned his books to his bag.
He didn’t care to get buddy-buddy with anyone but he’d felt eyes on him the second he stepped into the building. Demons couldn’t care less about humans in Saeran’s opinion, but they had to obey their king. It made sense that any demon attending the university would want to know about the exchange students. It was a spectacle. It was a death waiting to happen and in a place where people thrived on a taste of blood and gore, he did not doubt in his mind that they were waiting for someone to act on an impulse.
If somebody was smart enough, they would try to get close to the exchange students to win the favor of their king. It would be beneficial to manipulate the situation to their liking. Saeran figured that was the game plan one would follow if one were determined to gain more power and favor. He’d probably get the same idea if he were trying to please Rika, frankly. She’d manipulated him until he wanted to hunt people for sport and he began to believe those feelings were his, too.
He’d considered doing the same to MC to make them more judgmental of the RFA, and more willing to dump them when he decided it was time to bring them to paradise. All in all, it didn't matter if you were a demon or a human, personal gain was something that everybody dreamed of. It didn't matter if it was righteous or not, the fact alone that somebody would trample on others who had nothing to do with the situation to get what they wanted was the sin of it all.
Saeran turned to see who spoke to him. He raised a brow. The voice belonged to a man with white hair who couldn’t have been much older than Jumin Han. He had no clue what the guy was, given that all the demons he’d been around seemed to be masking their true forms. He didn’t doubt that monstrous forms were hiding underneath a thin, sparkling layer of magic.
If somebody wanted to sell a more pleasant version of hell, it would make sense to hide all of the disgusting, terrifying parts with a world that was easier to stomach.
He wanted to ignore the guy, frankly.
He wasn't here to make friends and he didn't exactly want to interact with anybody that had nothing to do with his goals. All he had to do was survive until the end of the year and give them whatever the hell they expected. But, given that glint of intrigue and purpose in the guy’s eyes, he knew that there was no way around this conversation even if he walked away. He shrugged his bag over his shoulders and began to walk to the door, when, as expected, the guy followed.
“Asmodeus mentioned that you weren’t much of a talker, but I don’t suppose anyone would be their first time in the Devildom,” he said. Ah, he was friendly with the Avatar of Lust. Well, then again, who wasn’t? “My name is Solomon. I’m the other human in the exchange program. I imagine it might give you peace of mind to know another human you can turn to when needed. It’s not my first time in the Devildom but if you have any questions, I’d be delighted to answer them. I’m sure you must be curious about something.”
Saeran wasn’t.
He could already tell that Solomon was up to something. If he was already familiar with the Devildom and he knew an Avatar of Sin that closely, he had ulterior motives. Saeran couldn’t blame Solomon for trying. If he had been in his position, he would’ve considered the same thing. Saeran just wouldn’t fall for a trap like that when he had laid the same ones before. It would be a mockery of his experiences to trust someone right off the bat. He didn’t care if they were humans, angels, or demons.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Someone blocked his path before he could make a point of walking away to get the guy off his case. He didn't have time for this nor did he want to deal with it. His irritation was rising by the minute. “Solomon may have once been a human but he’s more like a demon these days than he ever was human, Saeran.”
“Satan, please, I wouldn’t call that a compliment,” Solomon’s chuckle was as fake as they came. So was the sound of Satan’s laugh. “I see that you’re here to take him to his next class. I won’t keep him, then. I wanted to let Saeran know that he can interact with people outside of the House of Lamentation if he pleases. Humanity has a bias for other humans, after all.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Saeran said, curtly. It was apparent from the way he responded that he didn't care about the advice in the slightest. The only reason he spared him that much was simply for the fact that it would be enough to make sure the conversation ended and didn't continue. In all honesty, the last thing he wanted to do was interact with an angel.
He could handle demons that lied left and right, humans that lusted for power that was beyond their means otherwise, but the angels…
There was no trust in his heart for those deemed worthy of something he was denied from birth.
Saeran didn’t even bother to glance over his shoulder to look back once he and Satan made their way to their next class. He knew that he constantly had to have a chaperone with him everywhere he went, but he had no clue which of the brothers was going to be with him throughout his day. It wasn't like they told him who to expect to grab him from each class.
At the very least, he was grateful this time because he didn't have to bother with Solomon. It wasn't all that bad but he still didn't care for any of these demons. They could be useful if they wanted to be but they weren't going to go out on a limb for a human like him. That much was as plain as day.
“You’re absolutely steaming with rage,” Satan pointed out as if it were obvious. Saeran looked at him with a curious brow. “I’ll give you one fact about the Avatars of Sin that you won’t find in your books. If you feel anything that so much aligns with our sins, we can sense it, we can feel it, and if we wanted to, we could compel you to act on those emotions. Of course, I’m not allowed to partake in such things given your status as an exchange student. A shame, really. It’s been a while since I’ve felt someone with this much disdain.”
That was invasive.
But, it was obvious that that was something Saeran could do nothing about. He didn’t appreciate the idea that someone could be poking around in his brain to find whatever they wanted, nor did he like the look in Satan’s eyes when he seemed to thrive on the idea of pulling that wrath out of him to make him take out everything in the world around him. He already knew what that felt like and he wouldn’t care to do it again.
But, wasn't that what a demon was all about?
Consent didn't matter to them. They were the creatures of destruction that were meant to defile and destroy the innocent until there was nothing left but debauchery and sin. Once again, a demon had made it clear to him that the only thing that was keeping him safe was the fact that the king wanted him to be.
It was insulting that people could belittle his strength in such a way but there was nothing he could do about it. That's exactly what Satan wanted him to know. Satan wanted him to know that because he’d been itching for a moment to pull his arm. Given the fact that Lucifer was only taking care of Saeran to please Lord Diavolo, it made sense that the irritation that Satan had for Lucifer made him want to poke knives at Saeran to make it harder not only for him but Lucifer.
It didn't take rocket science to figure it out.
The demon was getting off on this, without a doubt.
Satan chuckled, “Wrath is my domain. I’ve felt it coming off you in waves since yesterday. Yet, you wear a dry mask that hides it well. A real shame I can't do anything about that but maybe that will change in the future.”
Saeran wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it, though. Even if there wasn't a point in saying a single word, given the fact the demon could feel it. It didn't matter if he said anything or not to him. That information was confirmed. Any of his negative emotions were going to be felt by somebody other than himself. He wasn't surprised that a demon was taking satisfaction in knowing that he could torment him.
The power balance in the Devildom was as clear as could be, and Saeran was at the bottom of the food chain. He wasn't scared. No, he was only angry that this was the life he had to contend with after living through a God-forsaken religious cult.
“Enjoy the feast of malice, Satan,” Saeran said.
“Believe me, I will.”
Chapter 3
Once again, the second Saeran stepped through the threshold of the House of Lamentation, Mammon was long gone before anything could be said. However, this time, it wasn’t because the demon had any plans to chase. No, it was because the Avatar of Envy wanted to strangle him for not paying back what he was owed. It didn’t surprise Saeran to hear that Mammon owed money to anyone given the fact he was compulsive with his money.
He offhandedly mentioned he spent a lot of time in casinos. The places where money and greed went hand-and-hand. If he was spending more than he had, it wasn't a surprise a debt collector wanted to chase him down.
Saeran didn’t care about that.
What he did care about was the fact that Leviathan had turned his attention to him amid his nonsense.
Mammon waved off the babbling that Leviathan shared that went over Saeran’s head. “Listen, Levi, I ain’t got no idea what you’re talkin’ about. It doesn’t matter ‘cause I ain’t got the money right now. I don’t think you get it. How am I supposed to give money when I ain’t got none to give? Cryin’ to me about it ain’t gonna do nothin’!”
“You’re just telling me that you refuse to pay back even a dime of what you owe me, huh?” The rage in Leviathan’s eyes was growing by the minute. Whatever it was he needed the money, for now, must have been important otherwise he wouldn’t have been making such a fuss in the first place. Mammon said it had been over two hundred years since he took money from his brother. If he hadn’t gotten it by now, it was going to be paid back at all.
“...What? You lookin’ for a fight, then, is that it?!” Mammon countered, his tone implying he was more than prepared to defend himself from his brother. He glanced back over at Saeran who said nothing up until that point. “Listen, human. You remember my advice from before about what to do if a demon attacks? Well, you’re about to witness that for real! So…”
He sprinted past Leviathan and up the stairs. “It’s time for you to die because if it’s you or me, it ain’t gonna be me!”
“Dammit! That ass! He ran off on me again!” Leviathan cursed. He waved his hand after him but it did nothing to bring him back. “Do you realize what just happened? Mammon used you as a distraction to get away from me… no! I should say that he used you as a human sacrifice. I’ll admit Mammon is one of the scummiest scumbags you’ll ever meet. A total lowlife! Still, that was dumb of you for letting him use you like that. This is exactly why humans are—!”
The annoyance on Saeran’s face was obvious.
The way these demons used the word ‘human’ as an insult didn’t make him feel like the goal here was harmony. If they were going to throw around words like they were insults, then that was the only thing they cared about. If anything, he was certain that this was enough to make him write down how he imagined there’d never be anything but distrust between humans and demons. Sure, there might have been somebody a lot nicer than him who was more willing to put up with it, but he wasn't that person.
He didn't have time to say anything.
It seemed like the rest of his evening was decided for him.
Leviathan spoke again, this time, excitement burning in his eyes as if something had dawned on him like a damn miracle, “Wait… wait a second. I’ve got it! Humans. Yes, that’s just what I need. I’ve got an idea. Listen, are you free right now? Of course, you are. You’ve gotta be, right? You know what, never mind. I don’t care. Either way, you’re coming with me right now.”
As the third-born pushed Saeran in the direction of the staircase, he glared down at his D.D.D. where a text message from Mammon had come in.
> Mammon: Heya, I just remembered I had something I had to take care of. So, if you need anything just ask Levi.
> Mammon: He’ll tell ya’ whatever ya’ need to know!
> Mammon: Oh, and just to make sure. Don’t go around tellin’ Lucifer about this.
> Saeran: Why shouldn’t I?
> Mammon: ‘Cause both of us’ll get in trouble if Levi floods the basement again!
> Saeran: No, I imagine that would just be you.
‘Again’ wasn’t the word he expected.
Saeran wasn’t in a position to say ‘no’. None of these demons took that word for an answer and no matter how much he insulted this demon, he doubted he would get anywhere considering how he seemed to want to discuss something. There was nothing that Saeran wanted to talk about with the Avatar of Envy, but Leviathan had other plans. It was personal and about Mammon since he was the target of animosity in this household. Warranted or not, it seemed like he was cursed since he was his Guardian Demon.
Leviathan shut the door behind them but not without double-checking the hallway to see if any of the brothers noticed them. Saeran couldn’t say what he expected this room to look like, but he didn’t think that there’d be an entire aquarium taking up a huge expanse of the wall. He didn’t even have a bed. The place where the bed should’ve been was taken up by a bathtub of all things. Did he sleep like that? The back pain Leviathan experienced must’ve been worse than his.
The only normal thing about this room seemed to be the gaming PC and wall of books that decorated the other side of the room. His brother had one of those and so did Yoosung. That was the least weird thing about this guy. Now, he was babbling about being seen with a ‘normie’. That was, also, some sort of insult. Saeran had no idea what an Otaku was nor did he care, but Leviathan did. He cared more about his reputation remaining perfect.
Perfect meaning that everyone in his life understood that his only love in life was his platonic love for an Anime character. Everyone had their vices, this guy coped with animation to deal with his issues for whatever reason. It wasn’t Saeran’s business, but Leviathan could talk a mile a minute and wanted to expend all his energy on telling Saeran why he was taking his life for granted because he could go to all kinds of human-only events if he wanted to and Levithan couldn’t.
It was the expressive feelings of envy that Saeran didn’t miss. The more he spoke to any of the demon brothers, the more apparent it became that not only could they sense the feeling of their sins when it was projected by someone else, but they were consumed by that feeling themselves.
Why else would the one who was in charge of envy spend so much time being angry that everyone had what he didn't have? Why else would the demon overseeing greed have so many problems with his own inability to stop borrowing money from others? That was going to become a problem, he imagined.
It hadn’t even been 72 hours since he arrived at the Devildom and it was already testing him beyond his limits.
“Listen, I lent that scumbag money and I want it back. I wish I could force him to do it, but that’s not possible for me right now. He might be a rotten waste of space, but he’s still second-in-command. His power is stronger than mine. I couldn’t overpower him even if I wanted to. As the third-oldest, it does not matter how hard I try, I’ll always lose that fight to him,” Leviathan said.
“Couldn’t you force his hand by going over him, then?” Saeran suggested, plainly. It seemed a lot wiser to just ask Lucifer to help him out. If Mammon was constantly being scolded by everyone around him, especially Lucifer, then it shouldn’t have been a huge problem for any of them just to take things to the executioner.
“No good,” he shook his head. “Lucifer wouldn’t do anything for me. He’d just add it to the laundry list of things that were already sent to him about Mammon. It would take a lot longer than you have alive for me to see that money! And! I need that money like yesterday, human! That’s where we could both get something out of this. Hear me out, if a human made a pact with Mammon and bound him to their service… then he’d have to do whatever he was told. Which means if you made a pact with him and told him to give me my money back, he couldn’t refuse!”
Saeran could see where this was going and he wasn’t about to sell his soul so a demon could buy tickets to see their idol group perform. He wasn't about to sell his eternal soul for a single corn chip, much less whatever Leviathan wanted him to sell it for. He might not have cared about dying but he didn't want to have his soul bound to a demon for all eternity. It was already bad enough that he was haunted by a memory that wouldn’t go away.
The last thing he wanted was to be in Mammon’s soul wallet.
Or, however, the hell that worked.
“Hey, hey! I know that face! You don’t have to sell your soul. As long as you’ve got something to sell a demon that looks like they’re getting something out of it, that’s all you need. You can keep your soul if that’s important to you, but I know a way you can negotiate with him. Look at it this way, no matter if he’s a scumbag, having someone bound to you down here as strong as he is could be to your benefit. If you force him to do his job, you’d be just fine down here!” Leviathan said.
Saeran stared at him. “What makes you think I care about protection?”
He didn’t.
It was bad enough that he was here in the first place. He didn't want to go around tying himself to something that he couldn't erase. He didn't like labels and he didn't like being forced into anything against his will. That had happened time and time again and it was becoming a recurring theme he hated. Leviathan was acting like it was already decided.
If he didn't want to make a pact with a demon, he didn't have to make a pact with a demon.
Though, the implication that he could force Mammon to do anything he wanted… anything… left a sour taste in his mouth. Even if he was an unruly demon, the idea of forcing anyone to do something against their will just didn't feel right. It was bad enough that it kept happening to him, and he didn't exactly care to do it to anybody else.
It didn't matter how pissed off he was. He was tired of the perpetual cycle that had no end in sight. If they wanted to sort out their petty squabbles, they could do it amongst themselves instead of getting a human involved. Saeran turned to leave, no longer caring what Leviathan wanted even if he was owed his money back.
But, the third-born stopped him. “Oi, oi! You have to be worried since you’re stuck in the Devildom, after all. You’ve got some promise for a simple human. Frankly, if I’m being honest, I don’t care what you think. I want my money back and I’ve got a plan to make it happen. You can go along with it and save us the trouble. All you need to get a leg up on Mammon is a bargaining chip, and I know just the one.”
“And what makes you think I'm going to go along with it?”
“It's for your own good, human.”
“I don't think I care about what's for my own good. I also don't appreciate that you think I'll go along with something like this just because you think you can intimidate me. If you want your money so bad, go ahead and flood the house.” The vitriol in his voice was unwavering.
That left him and the third-born at the precipice of disaster. They were two colliding continents that had crashed into each other just waiting for the explosion to follow. He already had a long day and he didn't want to put up with anything anymore. As easy as it would have been to bow his head and go along with it, he'd never been the type to make things easier for others. Perhaps, he had been when he was a child, but he was no longer a quivering boy who pleaded for his life.
Leviathan’s eyes were narrowed into slits. His eyes had transformed, but nothing else had, which only served to prove his theory. “You really have a death wish, don’t you, human?”
“I just don’t care,” he said, flatly.
“You might not care, but I bet some other human cares about whether you live or not.”
That struck a nerve. However, he had a point. A part of the reason why he hadn't bothered to get rid of himself after all these years was that his brother had gotten down on his hands and knees begging to ask him to live. The pity he felt for his brother was more than it had been in recent years, and as much as he liked to say that he didn't care about his brother or his feelings, he knew if he up and got himself killed in this way, his brother would never let him hear the end of it if they went to the same afterlife.
It would be a million times worse than being stuck with him in a Hell of his design.
Saeran wanted nothing to do with the Devildom. It’d been a rude welcome and it was only continuing to become worse by the minute. Leviathan had a point. It was a point he could do nothing about. That was what he hated the most. Even if he didn't give a damn about what happened, his brother did.
The worst thing of all was that he cared about what his brother would feel.
Even if he didn't want to make the effort to try and find a way to contact him in the human world, he didn’t want Saeyoung to lose the things that made him happy. His brother was always sacrificing things for his happiness. Even if his brother lied through his teeth and said that he wasn't going out of his way to do anything special, he knew better. Saeyoung did things for him even if it was inconvenient… like, how he told MC that Saeran would have to live with them or he would need to reevaluate his life.
He said that to the love of his life.
There were plenty of things about Saeran that got in Saeyoung’s way, but never once did he complain. It was just the way his brother was. He would be self-sacrificial until the end of time when the sun just exploded and ended it all, and nothing would change it. Maybe, this once, he would throw a bone and try to live if only not to destroy his brother.
Never let it be said that he didn't sacrifice something for his brother's sake.
With disdain in his heart, he steeled himself and looked back at Leviathan. He wasn't happy about it but he was going to go along with it just to get it over with. “Fine, I'll do this pact if it stops you from throwing a tantrum.”
—
“I presume you’ve found no issue after your first week here?”
“It’s been a warm welcome,” Saeran said. His voice was curt but he was sure Lucifer understood the sarcasm of it all. He knew there was a line in speaking in his mind but he wasn’t about to censor his thoughts to Lucifer Morningstar when the truth was clear. “It’s as if the entire student body decided that eons of animosity needed to end per my arrival. There’s no need to notice you chose to take me to my first class to avoid the Succubi that have already threatened to consume my flesh twice this week in passing.”
That sharp look from Lucifer was a warning. It was of no surprise to him. He was not only the second in command of everything that happened in Hell, but he also had to take care of countless endeavors that were placed on his shoulders by the future king. He could relate to having a workload that would never stop. The expectation of its completion would end when another task was placed in his hands to take care of. The Merry-Go-Round would keep turning, turning, and turning.
If you did that for a couple of centuries, it would surely drive you mad. If anything, Lucifer's resolve was respectable to continue going for this long with only slight wear and tear showing in his eyes. It would be hard to see if you saw him from a distance, but if you were close enough, you could see the exhaustion bearing down his spine. It was cloaked underneath the layer of pride as he held his head high. He was the Avatar of Pride, after all.
“Mammon’s failure to uphold his duty is in play,” Lucifer said.
“Then, I suppose your goal is to punish him for slacking off,” Saeran said. It would make sense if that was the case considering that his brother was supposed to make sure that nothing like this happened in the first place. Again, he made it clear he didn't care what happened to him, so that might have played a part in the reason why the demon was absent presently. Still, he had a job to uphold and there was no reason for him to slack off unless he was the one who had a death wish.
Lucifer chuckled, “Mammon’s punishment is to come. It can be doled out as I see fit. After all, I hold his true weakness. As long as we're on the subject of his weakness, there is a reason why he can't say no to what I need him to take care of. It won't be long before he's doing as he needs to do once again. That I can say for certain. I've taken one particular weakness of his and frozen it.”
There was no reason why Lucifer should throw him a bone, but he wasn't about to say anything to make this more suspicious than it already was. He could continue to play with his poker face and he doubted any of the demons would think much of it. Either Lucifer had an idea of what he was up to, or he simply found it amusing to mention how excited he was to torment his younger brother. There was no way to say for sure what was going on in the firstborn's head. Saeran wasn’t going to look the other way and say something, though.
There it was.
That was a piece of the information he needed to get this whole ridiculous pact thing over with. He could work with that information and do something with it. Leviathan would probably have a better idea than he did. He made a mental note to chalk it down for later and see where they could take that information and use it against Mammon.
“As long as he does his job, I don't care,” Saeran said.
“As to be expected. You've held up on your own thus far without him taking care of his duty, but make no mistake, human. Try to keep yourself out of trouble. The success of the exchange program rides on your ability to survive until the end of the year,” Lucifer replied. The sound of a chiming bell echoed in the distance which designated that classes were about to begin. “As long as you stay out of trouble, the inability of your guardian to follow through on his duties won’t become an issue.”
Lucifer didn't want to play babysitter.
That much was apparent to him. For a demon as old and powerful as he was, it would be frustrating to deal with an entity that could die at the flick of a wrist. It seemed he was committed to making things in this program work out for his king and nothing more. His ‘enthusiasm’ didn’t match that of Lord Diavolo. Frankly, nothing could match the enthusiasm that the Future King seemed to possess at the thought of molding the realms. It was a fool's dream.
There was a stark difference between the two of them when it came to how they each spoke of what this program meant. One of the two was far more aware of the reality than the other was. There was a difference between a dream and knowing the limitations of reality. He knew that it didn't matter how much they tried to bring everyone together. There was always going to be somebody who didn't dare believe in harmony.
Everyone had existed for centuries at war with one another. A war that had been created since the dawn of time, far before human beings had even been a twinkle in the idea of creation. Things were made at a standstill for a reason. That wasn't something that could be changed by playing the angle of diplomacy.
There was no peace in the word ‘war’ and there’d never be.
Saeran knew that firsthand.
His very existence was a byproduct of war and he would never know peace.
Chapter 4
Leviathan had the answer that Saeran didn’t. He told him to come straight to the kitchen so they could test his theory to see if it was correct, and despite how exhausted Saeran was, he knew there was no way around it. It was the dead of night. Well, the dead of night for the Devildom. There was never any sun to let him know if it was morning, noon, or night. His sense of the day was long gone. He had to guess by the way the moon reflected shadows on the ground. It was doing worse to his seasonal depression if he had to guess.
However, when he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see that Leviathan wasn’t there. It was one of his brothers instead. The Avatar of Gluttony was firmly munching away on something that’d been left in the fridge. That was the demon who mentioned that there’d be promises that he could avoid the circumstance of accidentally eating him. That would have been the worst way to die, probably.
It was nothing if someone wanted to snap his neck or shatter his ribs, but the thought of being a meal for a lion wasn’t in his plans. If he had a choice, this wasn't the way he would choose to go. It was not the cleanest or quickest. Leviathan had to be around but he wasn’t here. He sighed, deciding it would be best to turn around if the demon was going to avoid him. He wasn't going to wait around all night for the guy to come around.
“What’re you doing here?”
Ah. Beelzebub had noticed him.
“Leviathan told me to meet him here,” he said. There was no point in lying about his intentions and he saw no point in covering up for the otaku. He didn't care about the relationship status he was trying to keep with his brothers about the 2D character he loved. Platonically, or whatever. It didn’t matter that much to Saeran. “Midnight snack?”
“Midnight meal,” Beelzebub hummed in response. He closed the fridge as it seemed to be picked over and nothing was left to satiate his lust. When he glanced over the demon's shoulder, he noticed there was nothing left inside. He might have devoured everything and it still wasn't enough to make the hunger better. “I’m surprised, though. Levi is just too jealous of humans to talk to one… Guess he changed his mind, or you’ve got something he wants to have.”
Saeran shrugged. “You know your brothers better than I do. The ones that are here, at least. I haven’t seen the Avatar of Sloth around.”
That noticeably changed Beelzebub’s features. “Don’t you ever mention him in front of Lucifer. Just so we’re clear, I’m not going to tell you any more than that. Lucifer would yell at me if I did and we’re better off if we avoid that. Don’t bother asking my brothers about him, either. They’re not going to say anything, either. We’re forbidden from talking about him. Even though he’s our brother… we have to pretend he doesn’t exist… it’s not right.”
At first, it sounded like he was angry that the youngest brother was mentioned at all, but by the time he trailed off, it sounded like he was noticeably depressed about this unspoken rule. Something was going on here that they weren't telling him about the youngest brother. He wasn't about to get answers from this guy, though. Beelzebub didn't seem too pleased to be bothered at this hour, and now, there’d been a reason to think about his safety.
Not right?
Why weren't they allowed to talk about him?
He barely said anything about the youngest brother and it seemed to set off Beelzebub like a trigger. It was a sore subject, obviously. It wasn't something they wanted to talk about and if they were told not to talk about it, he wasn't going to get any leeway on the subject. If it had nothing to do with him in general, he wouldn't bother asking. Any advice that the demon brothers gave to him felt backhanded and less than useful, anyway.
If there was nothing for him to gain then there was nothing for him to use or lose. Still, the feeling of magic in the air left him feeling like he’d choke if he stood there too long. Even if he was good about not showing pain or weakness to other people, the darkness in the Devildom seemed to just saturate everything in an unavoidable way.
The demon that towered over him stood up and brushed past him. “You know what, it’s not any of your business, human. I’ve already eaten everything that was left in there, anyway… I bet Lucifer has another poison apple hidden in his study…”
Saeran waited. He waited until he was sure that the sixth-born was on his way to the other side of the House of Lamentation before he kicked the island in the center of the kitchen. He’d noticed another problem sitting out of sight and he didn’t have time to play hide-and-seek with another demon. He crossed his arms over his chest as Leviathan yelped and fell to the ground. He rubbed his backside in pain and looked at Saeran.
“Don't even bother telling me why you were hiding. I can already guess that you don't want to be seen with a measly human per your reputation. I don't want to hear it because I feel like if I let you just talk about it, we'll be sitting here for hours and you won't get what you want. So, instead of beating around the bush, let's just get this over with. I told you he said the word ‘frozen’, so what exactly do you think that means?”
“Just think about it,” Leviathan said. He crawled back up so he could pilfer through the deep freeze for something. “If he said he had frozen something, that means that my brother’s bad sense of humor will come into play. Lucifer’s horrible when it comes to dad jokes, and I figure if he froze something, there’d be a double meaning to that. Mammon’s credit card is not just frozen in the metaphorical sense, I think it means that it’s actually frozen. As in, it’s on the ice.”
That was stupid.
Saeyoung would’ve done something like that.
“Ah-ha! I found it!”
True to his suspicions, Leviathan had fished out a chunk of ice that had a credit card inside of it. That was the lamest joke he had ever heard in his entire life. If that thing had been sitting in there the entire time, how stupid could Mammon have been to not realize it? If they knew their brother was a creature of habit, he could have taken it for himself a long time ago. Still, it wasn't any use to either one of them if it was frozen in a block of ice.
“It’ll take hours for that to thaw,” Saeran pointed out.
Leviathan blinked. That dawned on him as soon as the words came out of Saeran’s mouth, and he immediately turned to get rid of the ice the fastest way possible. “I’ll defrost it in the microwave! It won’t take any time at all that way!”
“You know, that's going to destroy the thing and it'll defeat the purpose,” Saeran said. It wasn't like the third-born was going to listen to him in the first place. None of these humans had been listening to a word he said and he didn't expect them to start listening to him, now. Oh, well. He warned the guy and if he didn’t want to listen, that was on him. This was his plan anyway, so, there wasn't anything for him to do but watch the fire burn.
It didn't take long for the commotion to catch the attention of the exact person they were aiming for. It was only a few minutes before Mammon showed his face. He seemed surprised that Leviathan was outside of his bedroom, much less that he was standing there with Saeran. His eyes flickered between the two of them as if it was going to give him an answer, but what eventually caught his attention was the object he wanted more than anything.
“What’s with all the racket down here? …Hey, wait a minute! There, in the microwave! That looks like Goldie! My sweet credit card! My baby! Oh, honey, I’ve missed you! The one thing more important to me than life itself! Get her outta there before the microwave demagnetizes it and makes it useless, you idiot!” he said.
This time, it appeared Leviathan was going to listen to somebody. He made a face and immediately hit the stop button on the microwave. Yeah, this guy was a genius. If he listened to Saeran in the first place, he wouldn't have had that problem.“Oh, I guess I didn't think of that. I should stop it.”
Mammon growled, “Levi, you moron! How could you do something so stupid? You're dumb as a stump, ya’ know that?!”
He stormed across the kitchen. He seemed ready to snatch the block of ice from his brother, but he was stopped when Leviathan held it away. It wasn't like he could take it and get away with it. That was why his plan was crafted this way in the first place. He could take it but that wouldn't stop the scene of the crime from being placed on him. As far as Lucifer knew, he was the guilty party. He was going to have to hear his brother out no matter what.
“Hey, hey, hey. I'm the one holding onto your credit card here. All it takes is one shout to let Lucifer know that you’re trying to take it back and it’ll be over for you. You're already in trouble for avoiding taking care of the human, aren't you? Do you want to be in more trouble for having your credit card when you're not supposed to?” Leviathan taunted.
That made his brother sing like a canary.
Mammon had no room to argue. He narrowed his eyes but swiftly realized that he was going to need to sing a different tune if he wanted his card back. “Grrr… you… um, I mean. Yes, sir! Levi, sir! Please, give it back, Leviathan, sir!”
The Avatar of Greed lowered himself to his knees at his brother’s feet and bowed his head. It seemed overkill, but considering these demons had been pulling at the theatrics for days, that seemed to make sense. Everything here was over dramatic and poised to be something that it didn't need to be in the first place. They could have saved a lot of time and headaches if they would just work with each other to get it over with. Far be it from him to tell them how to solve their problems, though.
It wasn't like he was trustworthy to advise other people. He was the last person he would suspect anybody would turn to. The only thing he could tell them would be how to destroy their lives in a matter of days. There were better options and if somebody came to Saeran for help, they had nothing left. They would be on their last legs and he could do nothing but pity them if they even bothered.
Mammon looked like a kicked puppy.
No matter how he felt about the guy, it was apparent that his brother used him as a glorified punching bag. Not just this brother, all of them.
Every brother he’d spoken to in the past week made it clear Mammon was worthless to them. It seemed as though it could be warranted depending on his actions concerning his sin, but a lot of the insults he'd heard felt personal. In some ways, that was something he could relate to. He knew what it felt like to be belittled and destroyed by those that were closest to him. As annoyed as he was with the Devildom, his mouth soured at the sight in front of him.
It reminded him of a different time, a different place, and a person who wasn't him but he knew very well. A boy begging within an inch of his life to be accepted by a mother who promised that she would protect him. A mother who swore that she would be his savior and would never allow him to be hurt again as long as he obeyed. That had been a lie from the start. That's why he wanted nothing to do with a pact in the first place.
“Oh, wow, this is embarrassing! I can't believe that's all it took for you to abandon your pride! you're even down on your knees! You’re one of the seven rulers of the Devildom, Mammon. Shouldn’t you be ashamed of yourself? Well, whatever. I don’t care if you cry like a baby. If you want it back, you have to give me the Seraphina figurine you won at the convenience store.”
Mammon stared at him. It was apparent that he hadn't thought about the item that meant so much to Leviathan. It meant nothing to him so he didn't bother to keep it in his memory. Well, that wouldn't help anything. “The Sera… what now? What’re ya’ talkin’ about? I don’t remember winnin’ anything like that.”
As if on cue, the tantrum that he expected appeared. Leviathan stomped his foot against the ground. “I don't believe this! I don't believe this! You didn’t even remember that you have her! How could you do such a thing?!”
“Ugh, c’mon, enough! Whatever you want, I’ll give it to ya’! Just give me back my credit card! We ain't got to make this messy,” Mammon pleaded.
“Alright. As long as you do what I need you to do, I'll let you have her back. But, there's one more condition I need you to take before I even consider giving you back your credit card. I want you to make a pact with this human.” Leviathan said.
“Right, a pact… fine. I’m more than happy to… wait! What?! You want ME to make a pact?!” He asked, incredulous that his brother would even bring up such a thing. He swiftly blocked between the two of them as if an answer would somehow appear once again.
Leviathan nodded, “Think about it, if you make a pact with Saeran, you’ll have to do whatever you’re told, right? Then, Saeran can order you to give me my money back immediately, and Seraphina! Since you won't be able to disobey a direct order from your master, game over, I win!”
“I don’t believe this. It’s just money, Levi. I can’t believe ya’d go to this much trouble for this! Seems like a waste of your time,” Mammon said.
“Excuse me? Remind me again which one of us tossed aside what little pride he had left, all to get his hands on a credit card?” he countered.
“Hey, you little…! And you, little human! What’re you thinkin’, letting Levi use ya’ like this? Are you stupid? Go on, say somethin’! I oughta hear why you’re going to this trouble, too!” Mammon looked at Saeran. He knew that there was nothing for a human to gain in this situation. There was no reason for him to want a pact in the first place. He was strong-armed into this and there was nothing he could do about it.
Saeran’s expression did nothing to give Mammon the answers he wanted. He bent down so Mammon wouldn’t have to gawk at him like an animal. “Let’s get this over with, Mammon. Make a pact with me so your brother can shut the hell up. We’ll be here all night if you don't give him what you want, and I am not in the mood to stay awake all night because you won’t give him back two-hundred Grimm. It’s easier this way. It’ll get him to stop hounding you and it’ll get me away from his nonsense.”
There was nothing for him to gain. He was only doing this because it was going to shut Leviathan up and then he wouldn't think twice about it. He saw no purpose in utilizing a pact. Mammon wasn’t a demon who wanted to be bothered and Saeran wasn’t a human who wanted to be bothered. It could be simple to trade and nothing would come of it.
As surprised as Mammon was to hear that Saeran didn’t even intend to use this as payback, he shook his head, “Uh-uh! No way! Not interested! I am The Great Mammon, the Avatar of Greed, one of the seven rulers of the Devildom! You’re a fool, little human! Do you actually think I’d let some human be the boss of me?!”
Leviathan whispered a shout to remind him of his place. “Oh, Lucifer! Mammon’s here unfreezing his credit card!”
“I mean, of course, I'll make a pact with you, human! I'd be thrilled to!”
“That’s better,” Leviathan said.
Mammon glanced away briefly, but then looked back to Saeran. He seemed to be thinking about the fact that he had played into his brother’s hand. He sighed and leaned forward so his forehead would nudge against Saeran’s. Saeran was taken aback by the gesture and nearly pulled away because if there was one thing he hated, it was being touched without warning. His stomach flopped beneath him as magic began to surge through his body and Mammon’s blue eyes flooded with gold as it transferred over to him.
Whatever the hell he expected out of making a pact with a demon couldn’t have come close to this. It was so overwhelming and nauseating to have magic invading every part of his body. He didn't know what it would feel like when Leviathan told him it was nothing more than a simple transfer of power but this was far too much to be called simple. It fluttered inside of him until he felt something pinch the muscles in his throat.
Well, he wasn't going to throw up yet, but it certainly felt like he would if he lingered here for too long. The room felt like it was spinning but he doubted it had anything to do with him. It had everything to do with magic. He wasn't somebody who believed in this kind of stuff but how could he avoid it when it was right in front of him? Why did it feel like that? It wasn't like he traded his soul so why would his body feel this way?
“There, s’done,” Mammon muttered.
Saeran raised a hand to the spot on his throat where it felt like something had bitten him. When he pulled it away, there was nothing to show for it. There was no blood or anything like that. Just the strangest feeling of a dull ache that wouldn’t go away. What the hell was that?
Mammon noted his confusion and shook his head. “I guess the blockhead didn’t tell you, huh? Our pacts manifest on your body once we make ‘em. It’s kinda like when ya’ get a tattoo. ‘Cept, the only ones who can see it are magic. A regular human wouldn’t know it was ever there! You’ve got the mark of the Avatar of Greed on ya’, now. Be grateful, little human. It means ain’t nobody gonna mess with ya’ ‘cause they’ll think ya’ll summon me!”
He was marked.
Again.
He was marked again by something he couldn’t scrub away.
Normally, he wouldn't let his Panic consume him but it felt like it was going to fizzle up and bubble over no matter what he did. It was bad enough the magic made him feel sick, but now the realization that he couldn't take it back was swirling in the back of his head and he wanted nothing to do with it.
He swallowed down the bile that was swimming in the back of his throat. He wasn't about to have a breakdown in front of some demons. He gritted his teeth. He wasn't going to go through this again.
“C’mon, human, hold up your end of the bargain,” Leviathan said from behind him.
“Mammon,” Saeran said, eyes downcast. He was too upset now to care about the fact that he was going to force somebody to do something against their will. A deal was a deal and he was going to get it over with. The sooner it was over, the sooner he could get the hell out of there and go back to his room. He didn't want to do this anymore. “I order you to repay Leviathan the money you owe him. Let him into your room to get what he wants back, then you’re free to do whatever the hell you want.”
As soon as he said that into motion, he left the kitchen and he didn't look back.
Chapter 5
“It’s hilarious, wouldn’t you say? I can’t believe he managed to get Mammon to make a pact and it’s not even his second week in the Devildom. I never thought an average human like you would be able to make something happen so fast, but I guess they did know what they were doing when they picked you for the exchange program, huh?” Asmodeus said, leaning over from his spot next to Saeran as he took a long sip from his mug.
He didn't care.
Saeran didn’t care what they thought of him. He wanted nothing to do with it at this point, and he couldn't believe they couldn't get a clear picture of how much he didn't want to talk at this hour. He couldn't get any sleep the night before. He couldn't stop thinking about how he’d been marked again. Sure, he walked right into it without getting more answers, but that was a price that couldn’t be taken back. He had his soul, but his body was scarred.
“C’mon, Satan. I hear you laughing. I know you think this is hilarious, too. Though, I suppose it says more about Mammon than it does Saeran. Even if it was just a case of beginner's luck, our brother is such an ignoramus. You know, you won’t be able to tame us as easily as you did with Mammon if that happens to be your goal, cutiepie,” Asmodeus added. “It’d be so insulting if you think we’re about as dumb as that poor excuse of a demon.”
A loud smack resounded throughout the dining room as Asmodeus slumped against the table with a hard thwack. He groaned, “Ow, ow! Why’d you hit me, you brute? I can’t believe you struck my beautiful, beautiful head! Not even Lucifer has ever done something so violent to me! Why’re you always getting so vicious and bloodthirsty with me, Mammon?!”
“That was for callin’ me a poor excuse of a demon, Asmo,” Mammon retorted. He looked between the brothers at the table. “I oughta hit all of ya’, the way you talk about me like that. Did’ja’ forget that I’m your big brother? Y’all think you’re all so great.”
Satan glanced up from the newspaper he was reading to add his comment, “It’s not that we think we’re great.”
“No, not at all, actually,” Asmo agreed with a nod. “We just think you’re a complete and utter fool. There’s a huge difference.”
“Hey, hey!” Mammon smacked his hand against the table. Saeran exhaled to avoid jumping at the loud sound. He didn't want to be stuck more than the next person did. It’d been a long night and he didn't want to deal with anything else. “That's even worse! Don't you go treating me like I'm stupid, guys! I ain’t dumb!”
“Oh, I'm afraid that's one thing that's not going to change anytime soon.”
“Nope!”
“Mmm, this ham is delicious… are you going to finish that?”
“Serves you right, Mammon! Lolol!”
Mammon growled. He wasn't happy with the situation because they seemed to be making a mockery of him for it. To give himself to a human so readily to get back his credit card seemed to be a stain on his image. He chose to do it without a second thought, and they were giving him a tongue-lashing for making his priority his sin. Frankly, they all would have done something if it correlated with their sin if they were in his shoes, that's what he would probably say.
“I hate every last one of you. None of this would have happened to begin with if it weren't for that bastard, Lucifer. It's all because he took my credit card from me in the first place! Just snatched my Goldie away—kidnapped her against her will!”
“Ugh,” Leviathan wrinkled his nose at the words. “Don’t talk about your credit card like it’s a person, gross.”
“Mhm, it really is,” Asmodeus nodded.
“Shut up, both of ya’! Also, I can't believe that when he said he froze it, he meant it literally! Like, the credit card in the freezer? What's up with that, anyway? Was it supposed to be some sort of dad joke? ‘Cause if so, that was awfully lame. Eh, guess maybe I should’ve expected somethin’ like that from him all things considered. I mean, he may not be a dad or nothin’, but he’s pretty old, ain’t he? Guess none of us should be surprised if that’s his sense of humor. Ahahahaha!”
“Hahahaha.”
The sound of Lucifer’s laughter came stroked with licks of infernal magic that made all the color drain from Mammon’s face.
Mammon yelped and grabbed Saeran’s hand without a second thought. He sped to the doorway and out of it before Lucifer could catch him by the back of the throat like a kitten. “Would ya’ look at the time, me n’ my new master have to get to R.A.D. bright and early if we want to make sure that things for the exchange program go off without a hitch! See ya’ later!”
Saeran wasn’t happy about it. He didn't appreciate being treated like a rag doll and as nauseated as he still felt, he was glad that he didn't bother to put anything in his stomach apart from a piece of toast… and he hated toast. If he had more energy, he would’ve told them off for setting off every emotional boundary he had. He felt like a shell of himself at this point since it seemed as though the magic had seeped out most if not all of his energy. He didn't feel like himself.
If anything, he felt like he wasn't in his body the way he needed. That floaty feeling was something he experienced with the disassociation often. However, it'd been months since he’d heard the whisper of that voice that didn’t belong to him. The worst of his dissociation came from feeling detached these days. He was surprised none of them commented how spaced out he was, but if they were accustomed to seeing someone make a pact, this wasn't odd for any of them. It was nothing to them and everything to him.
Mammon was using him to get out of trouble.
That much he was aware of.
“Mammon,” Saeran said. His voice was tired, exhausted even, but he wouldn’t resort to using that damned pact to force the demon to stop. It was bad enough he had to deal with his own memories of being trapped in a situation he had no control over. He didn’t want to shove that onto another guy if he could help it. “Stop running.”
“Ehhh?” Mammon did, in fact, stop when he asked. He raised an eyebrow. “What? No order to stop? Considerin’ that y’ain’t got no magical abilities, ya’ gotta specifically order me to stop if ya’ want that order to go through. You can boss me around now if ya’ want. Not like there’s anythin’ I could do to stop ya’.”
“I won’t do that,” Saeran said. His head might have been pounding and he couldn't see things clearly, but he knew what he wasn't going to do. He wasn't going to tell the demon to do something against his will. The words probably came out much harsher than he intended but, at this point, he couldn't bring himself to care how he sounded to somebody else. When his mask dropped, the blunt emotions would come out and he would sound angry all the time.
Ugh… this pain. He thought.
“You’re a real weird human, Saeran,” Mammon said, abruptly. The serious tone in his voice came out of nowhere. “First, ya’ tell me that you don’t care if you die, and now you’re tellin’ me y’ain’t gonna use this pact despite the trouble you went through to get the damned thing. There’s somethin’ wrong with your head, ain’t it?”
Oh, Mammon had no idea how messed up he was. None of them had any idea how fucked in the head he was.
Being in this place gave him whiplash and brought up every memory he wanted to suppress no matter how hard it tried to fight him to the surface. He never asked to be involved with any of this and it was thrust on him just like Mint Eye was. He was trying to run away from the past and it wouldn't let go of him. It didn't matter what he did or what he said, there was no escape from his demons.
So much so that God had decided to give him literal demons to contend with.
It wasn’t any of Mammon’s business.
The pounding feeling in his skull wasn’t going anywhere, was it? It wasn't his first time experiencing a migraine but it was his first time dealing with one he had no idea when the end would come. He would have loved some painkillers, even if he avoided using them most of the time, just to make that feeling go away. It was the worst feeling in the world and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Through firm and tightly clenched teeth, he looked at Mammon.
“Forcing someone to do something against their will is just bullshit. As far as you’re concerned, don’t expect me to invoke your pact for anything, Mammon. I don’t intend on using it. But, if you want to make your job as my so-called Guardian your first priority, make sure I don’t hit my head when I pass out.”
True to his word, he felt his vision become blurry and his body go slack. If the demon called out to him, he didn’t know nor did he care. This was the last thing he wanted. He thought if nothing else, getting out of Mint Eye meant that he would never have people pushing him around or telling him what to do. He never thought he would be subjected to something like this. This was beyond any possible future he could have imagined for himself.
His life was just a merry-go-round.
He was damned to repeat the same cycle over and over to put on a show for some cold and unforgiving God who didn't give a shit about him. Saeran knew his darkest days weren’t behind him. The blood on his hands felt as warm as it had on that day. If anything, his sins were brewing in the Devildom sky like the dawn of a typhoon and there would be nothing that could stop it. This was his storm and they gave him nothing more than a miserable life jacket.
And this pact was only the beginning.c
#crossover#mystic messenger#mysticmessenger#mm#mysme#saeran choi#choi saeran#se saeran#saeran#secret ending#post secret ending#mystic messenger saeran#mm saeran#mysme saeran#saeran mysme#saeran mm#saeran mystic messenger#mammon#obey me mammon#mammon obey me#mammon avatar of greed#avatar of greed mammmon#obey me#obey me shall we date#mammon x saeran#crossover pairing#you can't sense it yet but if this continues it's mammon x saeran centric#mod kait
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