Not Completely Finished But Here's The Birthday Boi!!!

Not completely finished but here's the birthday boi!!!

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬.

In such a moment of tranquillity,

I can’t find myself

doing much more than just watching;

out of my window, I see rain.

 I watch drops fall,

in the dark of my room,

casting shadows behind me

in the little light provided

by the not-yet blackened sky. 

I can feel myself drifting away into the moment.

And I feel my tears become one of the many on my window.

Loooooooord we makin’ this an art account, starting off strong with Elliott fanart

My Siren By The Seashore 🌊🐚

𝗦𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱.

Fandom: Obey Me!

Summary: The brothers bickering, as usual. But this time it comes at the cost of a life.

Word count: Around 1k.

Authors note: This was originally meant to be a knights/princesses sort of thing but I wanted an epic battle with a dragon... but I also wanted it to be sad, so here we are.

[R/N stands for Readers name.]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55778944

TW/Content warnings: Injury/gore, blood, death.

[GIF from IceGif.com. This does not belong to me.]

It looms over you. 

You'd seen dragons as tameable, beautiful creatures. A staple of fantasy, the only harm they bring being fear - for the purpose of narrative; the romanticisation of them in the books you read and the games you play lessened the thoughts in the back of your mind that if it were a real being, without a ‘hero’ to save you a dragon could kill. And what’s even scarier is that most of the time it has no motive, because at the end of the day it’s an animal born into the world blind - as everyone is - relying purely on instinct.

The dragon before you is not the kind from fiction. You need to now delve deep into the drowned thoughts: the realistic. It’s real and it’s standing in front of you, defensively as if you are the threat. Because, essentially, you are in its instinctual-driven perspective - survival of the fittest.

And as its form, almost quadruple the size of you, towers up between you and the Devildom sky, you realise that stories are rose-tinted from the imagination, and that the reality is blinds you with tears. Never would you have thought them to be true blood lusting and ravenous beasts. 

You were entranced by it, a deer in bright headlights, and because of this were brought into its territory as its next prey; now you need to fight back.  

It was foolish of you to approach it, to be your own ‘hero’, but you had nowhere else to go. 

If it were a perfect fantasy world, you would threaten to slay the dragon, but instead caress its 'smooth' scales and hush it to calm, the world brought to applause - but this is the Devildom, and the closest you are to being saved by a ‘hero’, other than yourself, is a last minute arrival of one, or all, of the brothers. A reliance on a close scrape is all you have.

Your flesh loathes the gaping claw wounds as they tease you, trying to rip themselves off of your skin, before you do it yourself, no longer able to endure the agony. 

It hasn’t yet torn you apart but it’s taking your strength. You’ve now turned to foetal, curled up into a ball, clutching the lines of the bloody split carved into your stomach, the rocks of the ground adding to your agony.

The dragon has so far only managed to scratch you twice, pick you up by its claws and drop you from half its height, but it’s enough to make your body surrender. But no, not your mind; it’s still clinging onto the hope that somebody - it doesn’t even have to be one of the brothers - somebody is coming.  

Excruciating. Hot streamed sweat and blood boils the wounds, streams into your eyes and you are not sure whether you’re blinded by this or by the tears cascading down your face like bullets. 

You can hear muffled voices.

It burns, it burns. The blur turns red. Is it now blood or is it flame around you from the dragon's breath? The only thing the stories and games were right about. This is crazy - dragons are real, just not tameable, beautiful. Only partially beautiful. You were entranced. But now you see the ugly in its sharp skin, the tangled, matted, burning, smoking fur and you can hear its furious empty growls.

It slashes you, again, then curls you around its nails. It drops you, again. Your breath hitches. Over and over. Over and over. It’s not steadying, it embodies the panic you feel. The ash blocks your nose. You have to breathe through gritted teeth. 

It stops.

Not the pain, but the dragon. Why is the dragon now just watching you? 

You turn. 

No, it’s not watching you. 

Four of the brothers are there, almost as expected.

“I was ‘ere first, back off! I can do it myself!” Mammon.

“I’ll save them!” Leviathan.

“I need to be the one to save them. I need to apologise.” Satan.

“Can’t you guys see that just fighting each other is not going to fight the dragon?” Asmodeus.

Magic takes concentration, and it’s not something they’ll have if they continue to bicker; in a perfect world, they would all work together. 

You realise that this might be your own last fighting moment, so you take the dragon's distraction as a chance to run, and where else would you run to, other than into their arms?

You choke on the things you long to ask: if they were there the entire time, why didn’t they act sooner? Aren’t they strong enough? 

Your breath catches up to the pace of your feet - the dragon is not yet defeated and is growing impatient. 

The first to catch you is Mammon.

“R/N!” 

He’s shaking, and as you grasp for the rest of them, you realise they all are. Or maybe it’s just you. 

“Ah, you’re bleedin’, you’re bleedin’! Alright, R/N, we’re ‘ere. I promise ya you’ll be alright.”

They didn’t act soon enough. In the absence of their action, you feel even more of your strength fading. 

You turn to your knees, limp.

“Woah! Woah! R/N! Are you okay?” 

More arrive. The dragon watches keenly.

“Idiots! Why didn’t you do anything? Idiots, idiots!” It’s all Belphegor can say. He's loud and this taunts the already-ringing deafness in your ears.

Beelzebub remains silent. Frozen in fear…but you know it's not the dragon. You know deep down that it's because he’s scared of losing you. Like he did with Lilith. 

And he doesn’t know it’s your fault not his. 

“Everyone. Leave. With R/N. Now.”

“Oh, great. Lucifer gets to save the day, as usual.” Does Satan not care?

“Then let's all do it then, for fucks sake.” Belphie cares, you know this. But he's making things worse - everyone is. 

The only people left in your embrace are Asmodeus and Leviathan, but it's grown less comforting over time as they realise the severity of your wounds and also as the tension increases.

Your bloodied hands stain their shirts as they drift away from your touch to confront the dragon.

You reach out to them, unable to do much more.

“I said leave, did I not?” Lucifer is tired. You know he is.

 Will any of them ever defeat this dragon?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡

The dragon is defeated, but at what cost? 

You hear the dragons’ wail and thud as it collapses. You see the flash of light from the magic. You watch all of the brothers turn to you. 

You see Diavolo arrive. You see him point at you, an expression never seen on a king's face before.

Why is he pointing at you? You can’t tell through your half-shut eyelids.

Your blood is warm, the ground is cold. Your head hitting the ground from the side.

Your last feeling is the blood dripping from your forehead. Your last smell, the blood. Your last taste is metallic. Your last sound is lost voices.

Your last sight, your heroes. 

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some of the best things the om songs have given us (in my opinion, which is always right)

"hello sweetie pie" - the seven lords of hell, and definitely not a sweet old english lady

"hey what's up buddy 🙂"

lucifer using the boku personal pronoun instead of ore like he usually does

the boys continuously insisting that they will capture your heart, tempt you, etc. when 100% of the time it is mc bewitching them