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druidx · 3 months

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WIP Intro - Her Countenance was Light

~SYNOPSIS~

The 1970s, twenty years after the rebuilding of Toreguard, semi-retired Sergeant Elowyn O'Toreguarde is called in for a new case - the murder of her childhood best friend, Evelyn Strucker. When the King of estranged Iceland turns up for an unexpected visit, the Triumvirate Council force O'Toreguarde to play tour guide, passing the murder case to her subordinates. But it doesn't completely leave her hands. A strange set of circumstances reveals an ethereal side to the City, filled with secrets. Secrets which may hold the key to Evelyn's murder.

~DETAILS~

Genre: Crime/ Urban Fantasy Type: Novel POV: Third person limited, predominantly Present tense Themes: Grief/ mourning, Change is neutral, Accepting who you are, Mercy is the preferred choice Aesthetic: Dieselpunk, Detective Noir, Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales Status: Technical editing. Posting weekly on Archive of Our Own and Tumblr. Tags: #WIP 'Her Countenance was Light' (All posts inc. meta info); #HCWL Chapters Only (Follow this tag for only the chapters in posting order)

~MAIN CHARACTERS~

Elowyn O'Toreguarde - F, Sergeant-Detective, Freeman of the City

Johan Strucker - M, Evelyn's Father, General, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

Storri Nargondsson - M, King of Iceland

Lerrald Brauma - M, Master of the Exchequer, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

~MINOR CHARACTERS~

Farren Breakwood - M, Constable-Detective, Elo's Police partner

Thazaar Clayrmantle - M, Acting Magister, 1/3rd of the Triumvirate Council

Snotgrut - M, Unusual fellow. Curiosity. Shouldn't exist. ???

Meredith Gruksdottir - F, Bodyguard of K. Storri, Old friend of Elo's

Yoruk Copperheart - M, Bodyguard of K. Storri, Husband of Merri

Irvine Cobbleskater - M, Constable, subordinate of Elo

~OTHER STUFF~

Written for NaNoWriMo 2017. Technically a Modern, Mundane-ish AU of a TTRPG set in the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan. Formerly known as "FF/T Modern-Ish AU".

The plot is... not something I would normally write, and for a long while I hated it. Then I thought it was a too cringy, and tried to 'fix' it, only to give up. Now, on a recent re-read, I think this is the shape this story has always had to have. So I've decided to suck it up and get it ready for posting, so at least it's out there and not loitering on my hard drive.

Title is from a traditional song, Besse Bunting, arranged by Mediæval Bæbes.

~EXCERPT~

She cuts through a narrow alley of dark soot-stained brick, trots down a short set of steps and onto the flagged towpath next to the canal. There is an improvised bridge up ahead that will allow her to pass over the canal closer to where the station lies. She has run this route a hundred times, she knows every nook and cranny along this path, so when she reaches where the bridge should be, and finds it missing, she is perturbed, but not worried. Maybe someone finally reported the ramshackle thing, made of old boards and stolen scaffolding.

It was quick work though, she thinks as she back-tracks to where a tree clings to the bank. The bridge was still there when she came home in the early evening. She shakes the thought aside as she unhooks a rope swing from the tree. It's been a while since she had to use it, but she's in a hurry and has no time for the uncertainty that tries to drape over her like a cloak. With a running start, she jumps. It is only as she enters the apex of the swing that she realises something is wrong. The weight of the rope is too heavy, it shifts alarmingly as she reaches the apex of the swing. Then it has snapped, and she is falling, and she cannot remove her hands from the tacky surface of the rope, and the water is closing in over her head, and she thinks she sees the blaze of red eyes on the bank as she sinks through the darkness.

#meta writing #oc elowyn o'toreguarde #oc farren breakwood #npc Johan Strucker #npc Storri Nargondsson #WIP 'Her Countenance was Light'#wip intro #wip in progress #titan fighting fantasy #fighting fantasy #ttrpg fanfiction #meta wandering words #this has been in my drafts so long

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dru-reblogs-stuff · 3 months

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6 questions/ get to know you tag

Thanks for the tag @wispstalk :D I've not done one of these in a while so it's probably about time

RULES: answer the questions then tag some peeps (🐥) you want to get to know better/catch up with.

Last Song: Minute 5 by Begoa (Youtube)

Last Show: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Currently Watching: Marvel's What If…

Currently Reading: Red Team Blues by Cory Doctorow Countdown to Zero Day by Kim Zetter Count Zero by William Gibson

Current Obsession: There isn't one atm really... I'm just sort of floating along on a tide of "why do I keep catching colds? 😮‍💨️"

Unrelated Obsession: Forever and always thinking about my Modern Oblivion AU HoK.

Tagging whomever fancies it 😄️

#q #get to know you tag #tag game #this has been in my drafts so long

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nine-blessed-hero · 1 year

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Heads Up 7 Up

Thanks for the tag @odysseywritings

Tagging back: @aalinaaaaaa @thewriteflame @wildswrites @aquadestinyswriting @artdecosupernova-writing @autumnalwalker @blind-the-winds @eli-writes-sometimes @hannahcbrown @oh-no-another-idea @rhikasa @swordsoulwrites @winglesswriter @andromeda-grace @writingmaidenwarrior @wispstalk

(this @druidx's side-blog in case anyone is confused - I wanted to keep this excerpt on the fandom blog it belongs to. Probably best to tag me back as @druidx.)

In which Caroline gets a little Sister and Aderyn butchers the Welsh language

"I'm Caroline." "Aderyn." Caroline's face lit up. "You must be Baurus's Little Bird! Tch. He never told me you joined up." "I ain't. I've just been seconded for a bit. Now Marti's here safe, I'm done." "What a shame. It would have been nice to have a countrywoman around. Sut mae dy Gymraeg di?" Aderyn frowned, stumbling out, "Vincn ovnadwe." Caroline laughed. "Ah, you're right about that. Good on you for trying, Aderyn Bach."

Sut mae dy Gymraeg di = How is your Welsh?

"Vincn ovnadwe" = Ffycin ofnadwy = Fucking awful

Aderyn Bach = Little Bird

#cw swearing #hero of kvatch #oc aderyn griffiths #caroline #the blades #writing #TESFic #tes oblivion #oblivion fanfiction #oblivion fanfic #modern oblivion au #The Elder Scrolls #wip excerpt #wip 'the ruby falls'#haven's ember series #tag game #heads up seven up #wandering words #this has been in my drafts so long

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yedithwrites · 9 months

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10 Songs Tag

I was tagged in this a while back (sorry it took me so long) by @elbritch-kit. See their post here!

shuffle your "on repeat" playlist and list the first 10 songs and tag 10 people!

Here goes!

No Return (Main Title Theme)[Single from “Yellowjackets”] (it’s a bop okay)

outside - Bea Miller

Vete - Bad Bunny

Garden Song - Phoebe Bridgers

Mateo - Tove Lo

Call Me Back - Young the Giant

The Fox - North Bloom

Claudia - FINNEAS

Ni Bien Ni Mal - Bad Bunny

Difficult - Amy Allen

Gently tagging: @liv-is @writernopal @moonandris @heymacareyna @queenkalico @rubywrite @thesorcerersapprentice @cwritesfiction @kjscottwrites @kaiusvnoir

#tag game #no pressure to anyone I tagged #this has been in my drafts so long

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hamletthedane · 3 months

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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

#shut up e #long post #Saturday thoughts #this has been in my drafts for a week haha #also this is the heart of why AI art feels so wrong #forget the discussion of copyright and theft etc - even if models were only trained on public domain they would still feel very wrong #because they’re not art. art is the labor of creation #even commercial art and art commissioned by the popes and kings of history: there is humanity in the labor of it #unrelated: I did not know living in the Bronx was now something to brag about. How the fuck do y’all New Yorkers afford this city???

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yourtamaki · 9 months

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rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind.

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.”

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets.

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?”

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to.

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #god this has been in my drafts for so long

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fleshdyke · 8 months

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list of things that i think medieval peasants would love

cirque du soleil

redbull

shark week

the mythbusters

that guy on tiktok that makes those absolutely insane cocktails

sex gifs

doing whippets

microwaves

nuclear bomb test videos

those skydiving wind tunnels

#this has been in my drafts so long i need to release it into the wild #rambles #100 #1k #10k

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litta-jpg · 28 days

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mirror imagery + identity issues i loooooveee youuuuu

#this has been in my drafts for so long i cant even look at it anymore #tim drake #robin #red robin #dc #batman #comics #fanart #art tag

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isezrahomeyet · 7 months

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OUR BOY IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!

#WE FUCKING MADE IT GUYS #WE SURVIVED #I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG #HE’S FINALLY HERE #LITERALLY I'M CRYING RIGHT NO #MY BOY HAS COME BACK TO ME #I WANNA THROW MYSELF INTO THE SUN #don’t ask how long this post has been sitting in my drafts btw #star wars #ahsoka show #isezrahomeyet #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #ahsoka series #ahsoka spoilers #sabine wren #ahsoka tano

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assassyart · 6 months

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now go back to war

#assassys #mha spoilers #mha leaks #katsuki bakugou #kacchan #bakugou #edgeshot #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #ok so this has been in my drafts for whenever he'd come back #i drew it on april 1st and finished it april 4th #we will find out how long this has been collecting dust whenever it's officially posted #mha 403 #mha 362

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recursivetransformarray · 9 months

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shitty ULTRAKILL moodboard

#ULTRAKILL #oh god this has been in my drafts so long it's made with the old text editor HELPPP

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druidx · 7 months

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Picrew tag games

@hannahcbrown tagged me in this one, @thewriteflame tagged me in this one, and I yoinked an open tag from @the-void-writes for this one. Thanks all!

Tagging back (feel free to pick and choose between games): @aalinaaaaaa @thewriteflame @wildswrites @aquadestinyswriting @artdecosupernova-writing @autumnalwalker @blind-the-winds @eli-writes-sometimes @hannahcbrown @oh-no-another-idea @rhikasa @swordsoulwrites @winglesswriter @andromeda-grace @writingmaidenwarrior @wispstalk @late-to-the-fandom @athenswrites

All of these are variants of Alexis Dalliance, because that's where my head's at these days

This is more representative than anything else. Here, 'Lex is in some kind of official Toreguard military dress uniform, against a dark and hatched background for her mixed alignment activities and own descent into evil-for-good-intentions. There was no option for cornrows so twin braids work and a crown of rose thorns for all her sorrows.

This is closer to how she might dress in a relaxed setting - just whatever shirt she could find. Blue is her fave colour; she's had many fancy dresses in that shade. Again, no cornrows but I think works for her hair. And a green background and acord to show where she's come from.

Orange & dark chocolate swirl ice cream, studded with dried berries.

Orange for her usual sunny nature

Dark chocolate for the darkness/ PTSD hiding inside

Dried berries for trail rations, and the odd spark of tart-sweetness that is nostalgia

Trail of icing leading to the grey paw-prints for the journey's she's taken

Scattered with edible confetti in green leaves for her race

The 4 leafed clover for her insane luck

The blue for Toreguard and the gold pin for her services to the city

Apple for the forest where she came from; and her association with treents

Black plate for her roguish nature, and wooden again for her race/ background

Against a twilight sky again for her roguish nature, and for the way her life has gone

#meta writing #oc alexis dalliance #series ADvEoT #fighting fantasy #titan fighting fantasy #picrew tag game #tag game #meta wandering words #this has been in my drafts so long #wip 'Young Dagger False Dream'

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 9 months

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It became known that MC was a force to be reconned with, when the prince of the Devildom sought out and valued their input. Diavolo doesn't bat an eye at pausing a meeting to call on MC, over the phone or in person, and he will take their words into careful consideration when making any sort of decision.

"MC, what do you think of this painting?"

"It's very bright. Might suit the conservatory hall."

It's Lucifer who arches a brow at it at first, in the early days. Prince of the Devildom, taking advice from a lowly human? That would certainly put the house of lords on edge.

Diavolo didn't stop though, and the things he asked MC's opinion on grew less and less minial.

"This is a complex matter...Lucifer, would you have Mammon bring MC here after class? I would love to hear their take on this."

"Young Master, this is a rather more serious matter than where to hang a new painting." Barbatos remarked. True, it's not the biggest issue sitting on Diavolo's desk right now, but it's no small thing either. Deciding where to invest RAD's extra funding isn't something one would think to involve the new exchange student in.

"Precisely why I would like their opinion, Barbatos!" Diavolo beamed adamantly, he would not think on it again and Mammon brought MC over, their pact still fresh.

Diavolo did not comment on that fresh mark, merely slid the necessary information across his desk, inviting MC to read it as he explained the finer points.

Lucifer and Barbatos watched on sceptically. What could this magic-less human possibly contribute to the conversation other than what they already know?

The eldest brother is rather surprised that MC takes it so seriously, granting Diavolo their undivided attention and asking follow up questions to make sure they fully understand what he's asking.

"Maybe send out a poll to the different clubs, see if they have any common needs? If I had to guess I'd suggest the common areas regularly used for club events, someone hosted a party in the cafeteria last week, can't be ideal."

Lucifer shared a look with Barbatos as the human spoke. How was that actually a good idea?

"And if they don't have any common issues?" Barbatos prompted.

MC shrugged. "Transport lines in and out of the Academy? One of my professors was complaining about it this morning."

Diavolo's face lit up. "Both excellent suggestions, MC! Thank you for your input, you're as observant as always."

The first demon not to underestimate them, wasn't actually Mammon, or any of his brothers, but the demon prince.

The Prince, who saw how observant, how kind they could be and invited them to be in the Devildom and see it not just as a temporary Passover, but as a home.

#this has been in my drafts for so long!#obey me x mc #obey me #fluff #obey me diavolo #obey me hcs #imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me barbatos

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