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some-bunniii · 3 months

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Lucifer confessing to an artist reader

・❥ Lucifer gets jealous, and has to prove his love for you

x: WOW this was a rollercoaster to write. Alastor being petty, a musical number, and.. 😏 you’ll have to read and see!

warnings: Mild swearing

“Mreow?”

You stirred slightly under the covers in your bed, waking from the noise. You were so warm and cozy, in your little nest of pillows that you hugged to your chest. Stilling yourself, you strained your ears, listening for whatever had awoken you.

“Mreooow,” came that needy, animalistic cry again.

“KeeKee?” You whispered hoarsely.

A high-pitched chirp answered your question.

Grumbling in protest, you grasped the sheets and pulled them from your face. Squinting at the morning light emanating from the large windows on the other end of the room.

You rubbed a hand down your face, in an attempt to squeeze out the exhaustion still fogging your mind. With a sigh, you pivoted, placing your feet on the cold, wood floor beneath.

Now where was that furball?

You scanned the room, before your eyes landed on the small black and white cyclopean cat. She sat on your nightstand, her tail swishing with happiness as you answered her call.

“You silly kitty, what do you want so early in the morning?” You questioned her, and received another chirp as a response.

You always found it fascinating that the small feline was actually the key to the hotel, created by Lucifer’s magic as a gift to Charlie when she took over the place.

You could feel it, even now, that warm crackle of energy as it flowed off KeeKee’s fur. It was faint, but so familiar. If you buried her face in her fur far enough, you could even smell traces of his scent.

As you and Lucifer grew closer, so did KeeKee. She had started following around the hotel, always a few steps behind as you traveled the halls. This morning routine of hers wasn’t new either. Before, you’d open your door and find her sprawled out on the ground on her back, her belly exposed as she greeted you.

You started leaving your door cracked after that, allowing her to enter whenever she pleased. She’d make her bed on the same cushion Lucifer was so fond of while you painted, and drift into sleep.

Sometimes, you’d use her for practice sketches. Although you could only do so while she dreamed, as she was not as good at sitting still as Lucifer was.

It was almost as if she sensed the connection between the two of you, mirroring your bond with her own loyalty. With a soft smile, you reached out to pet KeeKee, feeling the comforting vibrations of her purrs resonating through your fingertips.

Rising from the bed, you made your way into the small bathroom. Twisting the sink handle, you let the fountain of water flow into the drain as it is heated.

Your eyes landed on the object next to the faucet, and you smiled unconsciously as you picked up the yellow rubber ducky.

“Your new soap dispenser,” Lucifer had stated one evening, “Easily compactible to take it on the go and.. with the scent of apple pie.”

He demonstrated by softly squeezing the sides of the toy, and a small glob of soap left its mouth and landed into the palm of his hand.

You had taken it from him and lifted it to your nose, inhaling a deep breath.

“Delectable.” You teased, before placing it on the table beside you.

After his little performance at the art studio, Lucifer’s affection towards you grew bolder by the day. He often arrived at your room with a gift or two, even more than his silly little ducks.

Once, he brought you a small violin, the color pure angelic white with golden strings. You had stared at it in awe when he set it on the table.

“It’s white for you to paint,” Lucifer had explained, “Whatever little fantastical ideas you have to cover this instrument with, I just know it’ll be amazing.”

You had blushed, before letting your fingers glide across its smooth surface. Tracing its frame, memorizing its shape.

“I was going to get you a fiddle, like my own. But, I believe this best suits the musical pieces you are so familiar with.”

You sat across from each other at the dining table in your room, arms resting lazily on its surface as you sipped from your glass of Spiced Apple Wine.

That was another gift he had brought you. Claiming he only enjoyed the taste of fine-aged wine from his personal cellar. You had gotten used to its slightly sour taste by now, but you were glad for that slight pinch on your tongue. It kept you from ogling Lucifer for too long.

The only light emanating from your room was the candles placed around you, their flames dancing, casting shadows across the walls. The soft ting of piano keys thrummed in the air, flowing from a small brown radio on your dresser.

Not too long ago, Alastor had given it to you for your personal use. A very rare gift from a demon like him. You had just assumed it was his way of getting you on his side, your unease of him must’ve been apparent enough.

Your years of attempted swindling by potential buyers for your pieces created a sixth sense, the ability to smell when someone’s words didn’t echo their intentions.

Even though you had no animosity towards him, and spoke to him frequently enough that you did not feel any kind of negative intentions from him, his mysterious past and psychopathic tendencies struck you as odd. His presence was dark and cold.

Nothing like Lucifer’s, who’s aura was so warm and energetic you could get drunk off of it.

Alastor’s? That would sober you up in an instant.

Why didn’t you feel the same about Lucifer? After all, he had the same charm that swooped those around him off their feet.

‘His ability to love,’ you concluded in your head, ‘that was why.’

He showed deep care for the people close to him, while Alastor always held people at arms-length. Literally and figuratively.

Your personal feelings didn’t mean you weren’t going to use the radio, so whenever you’d hear Lucifer nearing your room, you’d switch it to polka. Learning by now that was one of his favorite genres. It played in the background as you discussed the violin.

“I think it’s best if you taught me how to play, I might have some knowledge on musical history, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about the instruments themselves.” You had conceded.

He shook his head at that, “Nonsense. If there is anyone I know that could pick up skills like this quickly, it would be you.”

“What makes you think that?” You had laughed.

“Because, you’re amazing. Talented, with passion that could take on the world. You and my daughter have more in common than you think. A drive that I wish I had.”

That had stopped your train of thought, your cheeks heating once more. Most times you would try to brush off his comments, and continue on to the next subject, even if those words made it hard for you to fall asleep that same night.

But this time, you let his words linger in the air between you. The faint glow from the candles illuminating his face, his angelic features intensifying.

It was your turn to make a move, you couldn’t let him have all the fun.

Slowly, your hand traveled across the table, until your fingers grazed his own. Lucifer never pulled back, instead, he accepted your advance. Lacing his fingers with your own.

The two of you didn’t speak, you didn’t need to. The day could be filled with laughter and quick-wits. But, the night? That belonged to your silent bouts of affection.

Just two pairs of eyes staring out through the large open bay windows, the flickering lights from the city your own little TV.

What was he thinking about? You had wondered. You were aware of the divorce of his wife years ago, and the fracture of his family still weighed on him. Even if his relationship with Charlie was improving the day. Did he blame himself for his family splitting?

You had never pried him on such things, there was no reason to bring him more pain. He’d open up about it when he was ready, he always did.

Was that why he was slow to actually ask for your kindness? Your care?

Your love?

He was a showman, with a drive to impress strangers around him, to win them over with his charm and flare. But you weren’t a stranger, not anymore.

There was this tiny parasite that gnawed at the back of your mind, whispering such horrid things of him leaving you if you made the first move.

‘His pride is too great to let him be swooned completely by a lower demon,’ it hissed, ‘He just wants something casual, nothing truly real,’

Was that true? Would he reject you and move on? Surely, there were much stronger, much smarter demons than you in Hell that he could choose.

Maybe, you’d just have to grow a backbone and ask him.

‘Soon’, you promised.

The calming scent that wafted from the candles around the room pulled you away from such thoughts. Instead, you used your free hand to lift the wine glass to your lips, downing the remaining liquor. Your body blooming with warmth as it traveled down your throat, and your head turning fuzzy with bliss.

A gentle thump as KeeKee landed on the counter pulled you back to reality. You finished washing your face, and placed it into the cool embrace of the small towel in your hands.

Turning away from the sink, you walked back into the main room. KeeKee trailed you as you rummaged through your dresser, plucking out items of clothing as you began to change for the day.

“Come, KeeKee,” You called, clicking your tongue at her as you strided to the doorway of your room.

She responded with a chirp and raced past you, out into the hallway. You watched her scurry down the stairs as you headed for the lobby. You were supposed to finish the season of RuGaul’s Drag Race this morning with Angel Dust, and honestly, it was a pretty good show.

Unfortunately, the raised bump in the carpet right in front of your foot had other plans.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you fell forward, your arms instinctually raising to catch your fall.

You hit the ground with an oomph. Luckily, you caught yourself in time to not face any serious injury. Except the sting of your pride. You lay there defeated for a moment, the ache in your arms subsiding slowly.

“Well, hello down there, my friend!” Came a familiar call, static trickling from their voice.

“Hello, Alastor.” You greeted the Radio Demon with a painful sigh.

“It appears you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle, hm? Let me help you with that.”

Black tendrils gathered around you, they were unnaturally cold and you squirmed against their touch.

They tightened around you and lifted you up, up, and up until the soles of your feet were steady on the ground. They flowed off of you, disappearing like a shadow into Alastor’s form.

“Thank you, Alastor. That was very kind of you,” you spoke as you brushed dust off your clothes. You’d need to talk to Nifty about coming to your side of the building more often to clean.

“It was no problem, my friend. I could not just sit by and allow you to take such an attitude from that silly carpet.”

Alastor snapped his fingers, and the tiny lump in the carpet that had delivered the tripping blow vanished. Leaving behind a nice, smooth surface.

His head snapped back up to you, that large smile still plastered on his face. You were about to open your mouth again when his gaze landed on something behind you, past the railing.

“Ah, I see you have finished another one of your paintings! What a wonderful piece this is, yes, truly remarkable!”

He walked forward, and placed one hand on the railing. On the opposite side of the room, at eye level to the second floor, was a painting depicting a very large, glittering lake. A tall forest surrounded it, with massive snowy mountains as the backdrop.

Small winged-angels sat near the waters, feasting on grapes and wine as they enjoyed the summer sun. Some stood near white-freckled fawns as they fed them fruits and nuts, their faces lit in joyful smiles.

“Yes, it took me forever. Water is a pain to get perfect. Do you.. think it fits?”

“Of course it does, my dear!” His enthusiastic voice not missing a beat, “I think Charlie choosing you for this job was a marvelous choice! You must have taken much inspiration from some of the classic artists.. Perhaps Edgar Payne?”

A look of surprise crossed your face. He knew about the famous western landscape artist? Alastor didn’t seem like a fine arts kind of man to you.

“I used some of his techniques, yes. I didn’t know you had such knowledge, Alastor.” You responded, a hint of questioning in your tone. Prompting him to speak more about the subject.

Alastor waved his hand in the air in a brushing motion, as if it was no big deal.

“Oh, here and there. When I was alive hosting my radio show I once toured an art gallery for an advertisement. His pieces were on display, and I suppose his work has been imprinted in my mind ever since.”

“That’s very interesting, actually. I shouldn’t be surprised though, you seem to be in favor of many classic mediums.”

“Mm, yes. I just can’t stand the way modern society has seemed to falter from its most creative forms. I’m sure soon they’ll just start paying robots up there to make art for them.”

You doubted that, people using robots to make art? What was the point of it if not created by the human hand?

It was then you caught his eyes darting to something behind you, towards the staircase. Did his eye just twitch?

Alastor’s toothy grin widened further, which you thought couldn’t be possible. Before you could turn around and get a look at whatever had captured his attention, his gaze landed back on you.

He quickly sidled much closer to you, and placed his free hand on your shoulder. Your eyes widened at the touch, he’d never been brazen like this before. Let alone being this close to you.

Suddenly, he let out a loud, boisterous laugh at nothing particular. His head slightly shook from side to side like he just heard the funniest story in his life, which made you lean back slightly at his very odd actions.

“Oh, my dear, you are such a charm. Truly. I always enjoy our little talks about your ideas. You are so very passionate about your work.”

Your eyebrows raised in suspicion at his behavior. What was this man up to?

“We should definitely continue our talks sometime, perhaps, in the comfort of your study?” He questioned, placing his other hand on your shoulder, “Maybe, you could even teach me some of that history you have trapped in your noggin, mmm what was that era called.. the Renaissance?”

Your mouth parted slightly as you contemplated his words. He wanted to learn from you? You had never graced anyone with your teachings other than Lucifer, and you kind of liked it that way.

“Well.. I don’t know if-”

“Ahem.” Came a familiar, male voice from behind the two of you.

Your words caught in your throat. Uh oh.

You watched Alastor’s grin deepen into a knowing smirk. His eyes snapping to the figure behind you, eyebrows raised.

You pivoted, seeing the familiar pale face staring intensely at you, practically into your soul. You tried to smile at him, your teeth clenched painfully as you stood besides Alastor. His hand still on your shoulder.

You tried to speak through your eyes, desperately trying to tell him this was not something you had asked for. You weren’t sure whether he could read it.

Lucifer’s gaze diverted to the hand on your shoulder, and you could feel a crackle of scorching hot energy in the air around you.

“Why, hello there, your majesty.” Alastor greeted him with mock enthusiasm.

“What a surprise to see you here,” Lucifer responded, a slight growl in his voice. He straightened his back, leaning slightly forward on his staff, as though the scene before him was not a bother. He was terrible at hiding it though.

“Indeed. My dear friend and I were just discussing their paintings, aren’t they a wonder?”

“Of course they are.” Lucifer responded.

“We have such good conversations, you know, about their vast knowledge on the subject. It makes me envious really.”

He released your shoulder from his grasp, and you scooted an inch away from him.

“Perhaps, one day, you would care to join us? But I'm sure their line of work isn’t something you are interested in, hm?” Alastor’s words left his lips, and Lucifer’s teeth bared at that.

Alastor’s smile intensified as his own energy filled the room, an invisible dual of power was beginning to emerge between the two demons. It reminded you of what happened when Lucifer had arrived at the hotel for the first time, when they had fought for the position as Charlie’s father figure.

Alastor wasn’t an idiot though, Lucifer could eradicate him at any moment. Was just simply irritating the fallen angel his only motivation?

Was Alastor’s initial conversation with you just to pull the strings of what was happening now? Did he know Lucifer was coming to see you? That sly asshole.

Alastor turned away from Lucifer’s glare, and met your gaze.

“How is that radio doing that I gave you? I hope you’ve been putting it to good use, I was trying my hardest to

think of the perfect gift for you, and I just knew that you would be interested in it.”

“It was.. nice, thank you.. Alastor.” You responded, afraid what would happen if you ignored his question.

“My pleasure, dear friend. We’ve been through thick and thin, you and I. It’s only right I share with you a piece of my.. admiration towards you.”

Admiration?

Lucifer stalked up to the two of you, staring daggers in Alastor’s back. Clearing his throat, he let out a dark chuckle.

“I’m sure your little relationship is over-exaggerated,” He said, his tone passive aggressive, “I’ve hardly seen you in the same room together, let alone have such meaningful conversations.”

“But, of course we do! I was there the first day they walked through those doors. I was the one that welcomed them to their new home, and it was I who furnished their room in the first place. Seeing as barely anything has been changed or moved around, it is safe to say our connection is much deeper than you may think.”

You heard Lucifer growl again. His eyes flickering to a shade of red.

“Well, it’s too bad your gift is useless now.” Lucifer hissed, “They have an instrument of their own, which I have provided them.”

Alastor’s ear twitched at that, and he turned to you in mock fascination.

“Oh, an instrument? Did you know I used to play in a band?” He turned to you, his questions armed with ill intentions, “I would love nothing more than to give you a lesson or two!”

“I am going to teach them, actually.” Lucifer snapped, “I couldn’t imagine the terrible noises that would come from you plucking strings like a tone-deaf banshee.”

Alastor laughed at that before reaching out and grabbing your hand. You had the growing itch to rip it away, but his stare whispered dark things, and you relented. Allowing him to grip your wrist loosely.

“Well, this has been fun, and I would like to continue our talks,” He addressed you, “But I have important business to attend to within the hotel, as your faithful hotelier. Perhaps, later tonight?”

Your smile faltered for a second, giving him a slight glare. You weren't going to let him think you were falling for his games.

“Such a shame you have so much attention on you from so many others, those demons on the streets really look at you with such enamoration. My word, just practically begging for your attention! If only you would share all your ideas and knowledge with just me, you’d know how fantastic of a listener I am.”

“Others?” Lucifer asked incredulously.

Alastor ignored him, instead, he did something that you never expected.

He gingerly pulled your hand closer to his face, before leaning down slightly and placing a quick peck to your knuckles. You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth to cease it quickly.

It was meaningless, you could tell. An act to simply further spur on Lucifer’s rage.

“Why you pompous little fucking-!” Lucifer roared, but was cut off by Alastor’s maniacal fit of giggles.

Suddenly, the red demon evaporated into a large green cloud of smoke. A gust of freezing wind rushed you as he vanished. Behind you, Lucifer’s large hat was carried with the gust of wind, and he was left practically frothing at the mouth, his hair disheveled from the wind. His eyes still a dark sickly-red.

You strode up to him, placing a hand on his arm. Trying to get him to look at you.

“I promise you, we were not talking genuinely just then, Lucifer.”

“Do you have conversations with that creep when i’m not around? Have you been telling him the same things you’ve shared with me?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breath of hot air.

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just getting under your skin. I’ve barely spoken with him.”

“What did he mean by ‘others’? You have suitors that i’m not aware of?”

You leaned back, confusion spreading across your face. Was Lucifer.. jealous? Was the thought of other demons trying to get intimate with you.. bothering him?

“What? Well, I don’t know, maybe. It’s not like I-”

“It’s me who knows almost everything about you. I’m the King of Hell, what can anyone offer you that I can’t?”

What was this? He’s never spoken a word about courting you, which is why your feelings towards his affection were mixed. But now, he wants to?

“And here I thought I could make it to the overlord meeting in time,” He growled. Before his gaze was renewed with fresh determination.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer, and snapped his fingers.

Before you could blink, the area around you melted and transformed into a beautiful restaurant. You were sitting at an oak table, candles lit around you. A wine glass in front of you.

Lucifer materialized at the seat across from you in a very tight, clean black tuxedo with a red bow tie around his neck.

He gave you a playful smirk, before another figure strode to your table. You looked up, and saw.. Lucifer? Again? This time in a classic waiter outfit, an apron tied around his waist. He held a plate of food in one hand, before setting it down before you.

“You’re favorite dish, catered by yours truly.” Waiter Lucifer spoke confidently.

You looked down at the foodstuff on the plate, your mouth watering. It really was your favorite dish. You reached out to grab it, before you were thrusted into darkness again.

Where were you now?!

You were sitting on a very comfortable cushioned chair, and as you whipped your head around, noticed that there were rows and rows of the same kind of chairs.

“What the hell is going on?!” You yelled to the scene, but received no answer.

Placed in them were more.. Lucifers? They all whooped and cheered, clapping at whatever was in front of you. You turned your head, taking in the sight before you.

It was a lit stage. The curtain was closed, so you were unable to see what was on it. Suddenly, the curtain lifted, and there was Lucifer again, he held a Violin, similar to the one he gave you, but this time in pure gold.

He looked at you before gliding the bow across its strings, the echoes of its chords filling the room. You perked, recognizing its tune.

It was ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’! The same one he had asked you about when you caught him humming that one time.

Did he learn it… just for you? Your heart fluttered. Was this grandiose display just him trying to prove that he cared about you and your interests?

It continued for a moment longer, the strings on his instrument singing with raw power. It was a beautiful sound, and for a moment you were lost in it. Emotions from your past bubbling inside of you.

And then, he let go of the violin and it began playing on its own. It floated in the air gracefully as its tune continued. He leapt off the stage and landed right in front of your seat. He extended his hand, waiting for you to take it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of where you would be taken next.

“Luci..” You said, giving him a questioning look.

He only smirked at you, his eyebrows raised playfully. You shook your head, a smile blooming on your face at his theatrics, and laced your fingers with his.

Instead of being thrown into darkness like before, gold flashed around you as he teleported you somewhere distant.

This time, you were on the roof of a very tall building, you shook your head to rid yourself of the dizziness before taking in the sights around you.

You were in Pentagram city, Heaven high above you, it’s white glow helping to light the rooftop like a stage.

Your hand was still gripping his, and he did not pull away. Neither did you.

Suddenly, a tune began once more. Unfamiliar this

time, and you twisted your head to find where it was coming from, but to no avail. It seemed to be emanating from the entire space around you.

Was there a faint musical number playing in the background, or was that just your imagination?

Lucifer pulled you closer, his classic red and white hats by vest clung to his frame. His hat and overcoat nowhere in sight.

“Lucifer, what are you…” You trailed off, right as he opened his mouth and started to.. sing.

With treasures untold and riches divine,

I offer you the world, to make you mine.

His voice was like velvet, that boisterous playful demeanor apparent as he circled you around, you turned with him, never releasing his hand. He continued, his eyes never straying from you as he sang.

I can offer you kingdoms, castles of gold,

Mountains of riches, for you to behold,

Diamonds that shimmer, like stars in the night,

With every breath, with every sigh,

I’ll lavish you with riches, until the end of time.

His singing ceased, and you were rushed back into reality. You looked at him in awe, enamored by that pretty voice of his. It was ethereal, just like God has designed him to be.

You stood there for a second, eyes fixed on Lucifer’s hand as it entwined with yours. Your gaze traveling to those big, beautiful golden eyes that practically begged for your response.

In that moment, as the sun above illuminated his pretty face and his shining hair flowing in the gentle breeze, you realized how much you adored- no, loved this man.

Summoning all of your willpower, you answered. Your lips parted as your tongue began to form words of your own design. You didn’t call up any lyrics from pieces of past design. These words needed to be yours. Needed to say everything you desired and more.

I don’t want your magic,

I don’t want your gold,

I want your eyes on me,

Until we grow old,

The words left your lips, soft and buttery, as your confession rang through the air. You desperately hoped your voice didn’t sound like nails against a chalkboard, that it held some resemblance to his own angelic vocals.

His eyes widened for a moment, before they softened. A sparkle shining in them that wasn’t there before.

A genuine, heart-melting smile crossed his face as he listened to your words flowing from your tongue so gracefully, like water cascading from the Fountain of Youth.

You took his other hand, pulling him backwards, as you danced across the narrow rooftop, like ballerinas, your footsteps synced and graceful.

Suddenly, he turned you towards the edge, your heels mere inches from the ledge of the roof. For a moment, you felt like you’d slip and plunge into the depths, but those eyes of his held you steady in your mind.

Until his wings appeared behind him, beating softly, giving you air as he spun you slightly off the rooftop. A pulse of warm energy hit you, and your legs lifted out from under you. Like you were Jane with your Peter Pan, and his magic fairy dust was going to send you gliding off to Neverland.

For a moment, you felt like you had wings of your own. That feeling of absolute freedom, unchained from the ground as you floated for a moment before Lucifer pulled you back to reality.

Your feet hit the rooftop once more and you were breathlessly aware of your heart beating in your throat. Your gaze snapped back to Lucifer once more, and you felt one of his hands lowering to your hip, the other still entwined with yours.

Lucifer leaned forward, and you with him. Your back curved into an arch as he leaned above you, your lips inches from brushing against each other. You felt like exploding, those butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach threatening to burst.

Both your mouths opened at once, and your words entwined with his as your lips moved once more.

Your caring touch abundantly clear,

It’s all i’ve ever known,

With you my dear,

I surely fear,

My heart will never be my own.

As your song ended, you felt your heart and mind clear instantly as your truth had finally been told. The look of pure adoration in his eyes was enough to have you trembling under his touch.

Lucifer pulled you back onto your feet, his breathing heavy and the feathers on his wings ruffled.

With both hands on your hips, you reached forward and cupped his face. Heat spread across your body as your fingers grazed across the small wisps of hair that curled around his ears.

“Darling, I-”

Before you could let him finish his sentence, you squeezed your eyes shut, and planted your lips against his. He froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before his hands around your waist tightened and he deepened the kiss.

You moved your hands from his face and instead wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping at his shirt collar with hungry desire.

His scent washed over you, and you drank it in with desperation. A sweet, crisp dose of apple cinnamon mixed with faint traces of roses. You thanked Heaven in that moment, for releasing them from their grasp, and right into your arms down here in Hell.

Your knees hit the ground the same time as Lucifer’s, and you felt the soft touch of his wings as they wrapped around you. Blanketing the two of you from the prying eyes of all the realms.

He pressed his face harder into yours as he cupped the small of your back. His teeth grazed the bottom of your lip, and you parted your mouth slightly, locking the two of you together even more intensely.

His lips left yours, and he planted feverish pecks across your cheek all the way to your earlobe. He bit tenderly on it, and you had to squeeze your lips together to stop from whimpering. He continued, trailing down your neck with hungry kisses, before burrowing his face into your shoulder blade.

You felt his teeth graze the artery in your neck, and you gasped, grasping at his hair desperately as pleasure coursed through your veins. His breath hot against your skin, tickling it.

“Fuck,” You moaned, and his response was to push you farther into bliss as he suckled on your neck. Waves of pleasure hit you once more, and you began to sloppily kiss the top of his shoulder, slightly exposed from your roughhousing.

Lucifer tightened his grip around you, pulling you as flush to his body as he could manage. You both sat there on your knees in a mix of breathless gasps and hums of pleasure.

You did not want this moment to end. Finally, the both of you had opened yourselves up to your true feelings. You smiled at the thought, and planted a kiss on his earlobe as he lifted his head slightly from your neck.

Suddenly, the watch on Lucifer’s wrist buzzed violently, and you heard him curse under his breath.

“Is that for your meeting?” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Unfortunately,” He grumbled, before switching off the noise. He didn’t move from his position though, and you realized he was going to try and skip out on it.

“You should go.” You spoke, almost a command.

“Why? They’ve been fine without me for this long.”

“You’re the king,” You retorted, meeting his gaze sternly, “Go do your job, i’m not going anywhere.”

His look of distraught at having to depart sent another wave of butterflies into your body. You couldn’t help but smile before giving him another quick peck on the lips.

“Go.”

“Fine.”

You both stood up, and his wings uncurled around your body, disappearing into his back. His fingers still with yours, as he reached down for his hat that lay on the ground beside you. You released his grip and fixed his bow tie. Pulling his overcoat back neatly onto his frame, and adjusting it slightly.

You wiped the sweat off his forehead and smoothed down his hair. Attempting to tidy him up as quickly as you could so he wouldn’t be late. He smiled warmly as you fussed over him.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” You spoke softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “I need a way off this roof.”

He smirked, before grasping his staff and tapping it against the ground.

A flurry of gold wafted around you, and that same energy tickled at the back of your neck just like it did at the art studio. His face blurring from the cascading waves of warm light that wrapped around you.

“See you soon, My Love,” His voice echoed as your eyes shut and you felt that pull of energy. That feeling of floating on thin air hit you again, as you were warped away.

“There you are!” Angel dust threw his arms in the air in exasperation a few feet away from you, as the particles of gold that floated above you disintegrated. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the lights in the lobby.

“Where were you this morning? I had to watch the final episode all by myself!”

Shit. That’s right. You placed a hand on your forehead, berating yourself silently for forgetting. Although you weren’t too regretful about missing out on it for Lucifer.

“I’m so sorry, Angel. I just got.. busy, I guess.”

He shrugged, brushing off his slight irritation.

“It’s alright, ain’t nobody hurt from it.”

He was going to turn away, towards the bar where Husk was readying drinks for the two of them, before his gaze narrowed in somewhere on your figure.

“Wait, what the fuck is on your neck?” He asked suddenly, his eyes giving you a questioning stare, as he motioned towards it.

You looked at him confused, before reaching up and running a few fingers down the side of your throat. Your eyes flew wide open in surprise, and your hand cupped your mouth as you felt it. Your cheeks set on fire instantly.

Apparently, as a final gift, Lucifer had left a rather large hickey in the crook of your neck. Both Husk and Angel leaned in to get a better look at it, their eyes widening in surprise.

“That dickhead finally did it, huh?” Husk spoke up, a knowing smirk on his lips as he cleaned glasses behind the bar.

Angel’s eyes lit up in delight, and he squeezed his own cheeks as realization dawned on him.

“Fucking finally! Does that mean you two are a thing now?”

You contemplated for a moment, before meeting Angel’s gaze once more. A smirk growing on your lips.

KeeKee appeared at your feet, rubbing at your ankles in greeting. You gingerly reached down and picked her up. She was so soft to the touch, and you caught the faint scent of Lucifer once more as she nestled into your chest.

“I guess so,” You finally replied once you situated the cat into your arms, “Now if you excuse me, gentleman, I need a breather.”

Angel whistled flirtatiously behind you as you walked away, and you couldn’t help the growing heat that hit your cheeks once more.

——

a/n: let me know your thoughts!! i almost didn’t added the little singing bit but i cracked my knuckles and summoned the lyricist in me to have some fun. I mean, it can’t be Hazbin Hotel without a song right?

tag list: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #i’m tired y’all i’m taking a nap #im writing this fic like im getting paid for it 🤣#over 6k words too?!#hazbin hotel

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

Text

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter One

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

1.2K

Warnings: drugs (not taken), gun violence

Series Masterlist

This wasn't his job. It was beneath him, usually a job for his inexperienced little brother. But Arthur was at home, being looked after by their maman as he nursed a non-fatal gunshot wound.

Charles was pissed as he drove through the streets of Monaco. This was Arthur's job, not his. If he had listened to Charles and Lorenzo, and hadn't run in with guns (quite literally) blazing, they wouldn't be in this position.

The people of Monaco knew about the people who, essentially owned them. They had a royal family, but they didn't have as much Power as the Leclercs. As soon as they saw the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale, they knew to get out of the way.

On this day, the only thing stopping Charles from driving into everybody in his way was his love for his precious car. As soon as he had checked through the clubs, he was going to go to his mamans house and murder Arthur.

Charles parked his car. Well, parked is a term used loosely. He stopped the car wherever he wanted and every other driver on the roads of Monaco had to work around him. This was maybe one of the best demonstrations of power that the Leclerc family had.

When Charles walked into the first club, the twenty six year old was reminded of why he hated it so much. He had loved it when he was a fresh faced eighteen year old, receiving his first assignment from his father.

But now this was Arthurs job, appointed by Lorenzo. He had taken over as head of the family when they lost their father, just a year after Charles had received his first assignment.

The family didn't handle it well. The Leclerc's had almost started a full on war with the Gasly family of France. But Pascale, the matriarch, kept them in check.

The club was disgusting. It was the middle of the day so it was empty, aside from the club manager. The floor was covered in cups and bottles and odd sticky patches that that Charles was sure to avoid. There was the odd condom on the floor; Charles turned his nose up at that.

He checked the books, make sure the money was in order. He swapped out the cash in the safe for the drugs that the club sold. "Get this shithole cleaned up," he commanded the club manager and left.

The second club was much the same. He inspected the books and swapped the money in the safe for the drugs. This club was somehow dirtier than the first one. Several of the stall doors in the bathroom had been kicked in (Charles wasn't happy about leaving money for such things).

The third club Charles knew it be Arthurs favourite.

It wasn't a night club, more like a lounge. The lighting was low, with tables covering the floor. Comfortable, cosy booths lined the walls and the tables in the middle of the of the floor looked equally as comfortable. The art on the wall was tasteful and the air didn't stink like beer and piss.

Soft piano music greeted him and Charles realised why this was Arthurs favourite club. It felt legit.

Charles looked to the piano on the stage at the back of the club. There was a spotlight pointed towards it, illuminating the instrument and the girl playing it. As he approached, Charles watched her fingers dance across the keys. The tune was soft and melodic, not something that he recognised.

She seemed to be the only person in the club. "One second, Arthur!" She called, not looking up from her piano.

Charles stopped short. "I'm sorry?" He called and the piano music stopped. "Are you always familiar with my brother?"

Her eyes were wide as she stood and closed the lid of her grand piano. "Shit," she hissed, but Charles still heard it. "I'm so sorry, Mr Leclerc. I was expecting your brother."

Charles stepped onto the stage. His presence alone was terrifying, a far cry from Arthur, who treated the pianist like an old friend. She couldn't stop her knees from buckling as he approached. "He got shot," Charles said as he sat at the piano. "He'll be back in action soon."

He lifted the lid of the piano and pressed a key. As a boy Chalres had loved the piano. His father had encouraged him to play, but he hadn't touched a piano since Hervé dad passed. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to play more than a few notes.

"Are you the manager here?" Charles asked, again shutting the piano lid. She shook her head, eyes looked towards the bar while he continued to stare at her. "You shouldn't be in here, then."

She sucked in a breath. The gun in his waistband had become apparent the moment he sat at the piano. "Uhm, Arthur gave me a key so that I could come in and practice," she said as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Charles let out something of a controlled huff and stood from the piano. He headed past the stage, to where the office was, and instantly began searching through the desk for the books.

The pianist followed him. "You shouldn't be in here," he said and pulled out the papers he needed. She was still standing in the doorway as he checked through it. "Seriously, get out."

"I'm sorry," she said, still leaning against the door frame. "I just... is Arthur okay?"

Charles stared at her for a moment before nodding his head, but he didn't look happy. "A minor gunshot wound," he said. "He's sleeping on our mouths couch at the moment."

Letting out a relieved breath, she walked away from the back office, allowing Charles to swap the money in the safe for drugs.

When he returned to the main floor, the piano was empty. The lid was open, but the pianist wasn't there. Charles didn't check for where she was.

He sat himself at the piano and pressed three keys in a specific tune. It was all so familiar to him, flooding back to him. It had been so long, but it was natural. It was right.

The pianist, Y/N, was at the bar, getting herself a glass of water. The moment she saw Charles walk to the piano she stopped and watched.

He was hesitant at first, allowing himself to get used to the keys. But it didn't take very long for him to get comfortable. Soon enough he was playing like it was the only thing he knew today.

It wasn't perfect, it was barely good, but it was full of heart and soul. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him as he sped up slightly, getting more and more comfortable. There was nothing in the world but him and the music.

Finishing up the song Charles sucked in and rolled his shoulders. He looked around the club, looked at the empty tables, at the art on the wall and at the bar.

He narrowed his eyes as he stood up and walked over. "Were you watching me?" He demanded and she quickly shook her head, looking down at the glass of water in her hands.

"Don't," he barked and marched out of the club.

Permanent taglist: @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @minkyungseokie @formulaal @darleneslane @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris

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ukrfeminism · 3 months

Text

Music colleges and conservatoires are deterring women and girls from playing “masculine instruments” such as drums and trumpets, a parliamentary report laying bare sexism in the music industry has revealed.

Female students are “cat-called in rehearsals”, held to a higher standard with “masculine” instruments and being told they cannot play properly if “they didn’t sit with their legs open”, the report states.

The Misogyny in Music report by parliament’s women and equalities committee found female musicians faced “endemic” discrimination in the industry which they described as a “boys’ club where sexual harassment and abuse is common”.

A series of female musicians and DJs including Annie Macmanus, Rebecca Ferguson and Katie Waissel gave evidence to the committee about discrimination and abuse they had witnessed or experienced.

Waissel, the former X Factor contestant, told the inquiry how “at the age of 16, she was grabbed by a much older man and placed on his lap in the recording studio while they were reviewing the track she was recording”.

The report found that many female performers who had been the victims of “discrimination, harassment and abuse” continued to be silenced through the widespread use of non-disclosure agreements (NDAs).

It said: “Women in the music industry have had their lives ruined and their careers destroyed by men who have never faced the consequences for their actions.

“People in the industry who attend award shows and parties currently do so sitting alongside sexual abusers who remain protected by the system and by colleagues.”

The report went on: “Much of the evidence we received has had to remain confidential, including commentary on television shows and household names.

“That is highly regrettable but demonstrates the extent of the use of NDAs and the culture of silence.”

The report outlined gender disparities throughout the industry. For example, less than 5 per cent of the producers or engineers on the top streamed tracks in 14 genres were female or non-binary, while of all the songwriters and composers who received a royalty in 2020, only one in six were female.

It also pointed out that the record label departments charged with finding new talent were dominated by men, concluding: “Women have significant additional barriers to pass to get a foothold in the music industry and must navigate acts of passive aggression, ridicule and misogyny to have a sustainable career.

“Female artists are routinely undervalued and undermined, endure a focus on their physical appearance in a way that men are not subjected to, and have to work far harder to get the recognition their ability merits. Despite increases in representation, discrimination and misogyny remain endemic.”

The committee also called for music colleges, conservatoires and other educational establishment “to do more to address the gendering of instruments, roles and genres.”

Its members heard that “in many cases women are discouraged from playing certain instruments at all’, with one witness saying: “There is this idea that if you’re a girl you can’t play the drums, or if you’re a girl you can’t play the trumpet really loudly because it will make you look ugly.”

The report said that the Musicians’ Union had described female students being “cat-called in rehearsals”, “made to feel uncomfortable by male lecturers” and being told “they couldn’t play their instrument properly if they didn’t sit with their legs open in orchestra rehearsals”.

Caroline Nokes, the Conservative MP who chairs the committee, said “endemic misogyny … has persisted for far too long within the music industry.”

She added: “A shift in the behaviour of men — and it is almost always men — at the heart of the music industry is the transformative change needed for talented women to quite literally have their voices heard and be both recognised and rewarded on equal terms.”

#Articles #community #mvawg

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amuseoffyre · 7 months

Text

I can't think of many shows that use both the original orchestrations and the songs with as ruthless and beautiful efficiency as pirates. I know a lot of shows who give it some of the focus, but it has been so solidly consistent across the board for every. frigging. episode of OFMD.

The songs they pick not only tie in perfectly, but the tone, style and mood carries across into the scene. And are even incorporated into the filming of the scene as well, to make sure they get exactly what they want.

The way they used The Chain is quite frankly mind-boggling, knowing that they filmed it with the music playing on the set at a higher speed, so when they slowed it down, they had pinned beat-by-beat every single shot of that scene to exactly the point they wanted in the song. The drumbeats matched up with the British drummers and having Frenchie on his lute knocked flat right as the guitar cuts off. It's just... AAAAAA.

And now we're in S2, they're doing the same brutally perfect scalpel work with the themes from the score for the first season. I've yelled about it before, but I will yell again about these three in particularly coming for my throat:

when Stede shows Ed around the Revenge and shows him all his cool things, there's a jaunty little harpsichord melody playing. That melody came back when Izzy showed Stede how to be a pirate and do cool pirate things

when Izzy crawls away from the crew, the solo cello notes that are part of the Blackbeard theme start playing

when Izzy opens his note from the crew, letting him know he belongs with them, he starts crying to the piece of music that plays over Ed's mum telling him "we're just not those kind of people"

It's such perfect understated parallel story-telling, demonstrating that something similar is happening to the characters without having to say a single word, and I am hoping against hope that we get either "Do You Concur?" or "Be a Lighthouse" back again in the next 3 episodes.

ohhhhhh if we get Ed and Stede doing a fuckery together with Lighthouse over it, I might actually cry. That is far and away my favourite piece on the entire OST because their signature instruments switch and alternate between harmony and melody and it's so perfectly them.

(However, if we get Ends Tonight again, I might bite someone)

#ofmd s2 #ofmd #music

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dorcas4meadowes · 3 months

Note

could you do a luke fic where an apollo kid reader teaches him how to play guitar?(and maybe sing together) also i love your works🫶

Taught Strums

Pairing - Luke Castellan x Apollo!reader

W/c - 1.5

Master list

A/n: you are so sweet ml <33

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

Attempting to engage a handful of demigod children proved to be tedious. It was more tempestuous than a quest ever could ever be. You were exceedingly grateful for your students' inherent abilities to produce music, but it sounded as pleasant as a group of seven could on untuned guitars.

This was the most demanding part of your mornings, seeking out gratitude amongst the ringing noises. You woke with the desire to teach and would leave feeling mildly accomplished, but mostly drained. You loved your siblings, but they had demonstrated to be rather difficult.

You moved your brother’s grip to grasp a chord and allowed a gentle note to caress your ears.

“When can I learn a song?” He asked, strumming gently against his instrument.

“You keep this up and maybe by the weekend.” You replied with a soft smile.

“Really!?” The small blonde you assisted, beaming at his success.

You wouldn’t admit to favourites amongst your siblings, but the Solace boy raised your spirits.

Your sister called for your assistance and you were once again whisked away to help, oblivious to the eyes that remained on your applicable frame.

Your boyfriend was at the dining pavilion playing a distracted game of cards, his gaze gently on you. He watched you lean forward, the beads around your neck slipping over your shirt, his sight set on an additional emblem that graced the thread around your neck and his. Few campers had nostalgic pieces adorned to their threads, Annabeth had her fathers college ring, a few of the demeter kids had resin pressed flowers, but you and Luke shared a small stone carving a Lyre. It represented your gift, your love and the ever dreamt of Elysium. The charm is a constant affirmation of who you belonged to and who he would seek out in the depths of Tartarus.

“Luke,” Chris gestured, having to repeat his name to gather his attention, “your play man.” He mindlessly set out a card and let his gaze return back to your attentive grasp, soaking in your warmth. He couldn’t help but dismiss the meaningless game when you were near, he was like a moth to a flame, your fire slowly making his other priorities melt.

“Dude just go.” Connor took the pile of cards back and began to shuffle them, a few of them floating on the ground.

Luke didn’t have to be told twice and let the invisible guide between you tug him to your presence, to your sweet smile and gentle hands. His inherent nature was dependent on you, he was forever reaching out.

“Hi Luke,” a few of your siblings chorused, your head turning at his arrival.

“Bad time?” He asked.

“Just a minute,” you replied, turning to your sister. While you assisted the girl your siblings instantly flocked to Luke, asking questions about swords and fighting, the real world and about anything that came to their small minds.

As to your promise you salvaged him from your pestering - loving - siblings, explaining that practice was to be finished later, leaving them with a guitar’s neck in your grasp.

“Where to, ‘Lucy Gray’?” he asked, his calloused hands finding yours.

“You’ll see.”

The sun followed wherever your feet trailed, an ever glowing halo making your skin warm to the touch, Luke forever in the palm of your hand. You led him towards the lake, just to where the stones met the lush grass and blanketed at the base of an Oak tree, a seat woven from the flora and roots.

The plants saved you from your troubles and moulded around you, sculpting against your body and Luke’s alike, your guitar resting in your lap. Your eyes flickered to the splash of Naiads who retreaded under the rush of waves, the women’s tails snapping against the tension of the water, and letting it ripple against the tide. You turned your gaze to Luke, who’s never left yours. Your boyfriend had a tendency to stare, his mind would buzz and his head would tilt a little, but you couldn’t sustain contact for as long as he could, so you turned to your instrument.

The notes your fingers strum were pure and resonant and echoed through the stillness. Your fingers pulled across the strings with ease while you let a soft hum leave your lips, a whisper to the passing breeze.

You had a gift, distinguishable from your siblings. Children of Apollo had a tendency to lean towards the liberal arts, but you could manipulate sound like none of your siblings. The gift came after a rather uneventful evening in Olympus, Apollo was feeling bored and after your generous offerings he decided to grant you with the ability to hypnotise through your music. Your art tempted people, it made them forget their own names, it was a temporary trip from their troubles and had them craving your sound, fumbling under your voice.

Luke was not immune to your gifts and he adored them greatly. With you beside him he could appreciate his surroundings, the music pushing his stresses into the background.

“Can you sing?” He asked, his tone gentle. This was his request any time an instrument was in reach.

You smiled at his question, he still made you feel needed after years of people’s pleading. Your fingers smoothly eased between chords and began to play a song which plagued your mind, the lullaby which kept you at ease and proved your love is yours, all yours.

Moon a hole of light

Through the big top tent up high

Shinin’ down on me

The words rolled off your tongue with ease and were sent directly to Luke, slipping through his entire body. You fingers continued to toy with the strings and he continued to lean towards your presence, becoming completely in awe with you once again.

My baby, here on earth

Showed me what my heart was worth

So, when it comes to be my turn

He felt as if the words were crafted for him, each strum and pluck had him in mind, that the choreography of your fingers embraced him. It felt that way at least.

'Cause my love is mine, all mine

I love mine, mine, mine

Nothing in the world belongs to me

You lingered on the last note and then changed your grip and speed, confusing the brunette. Your hands trailed up the instrument then stopped looking over to him, setting the guitar beside you and nearing closer to him, resting your legs over his and pulling the instrument into your grip once more. You pushed the head in his direction which he graciously took then plucked at one of the strings, a painful sound from his flicking.

“Here.” You took his hand and settled it above the strings, his arm resting against the pure wood waiting for instruction. Your fingers climbed over his and delicately plucked at the string closest to him, pulling at it in a repeated manner. Once he grasped it you leant over to his other hand to linger between a few frets, the pattern continuous and difficult for his feeble fingers.

“Mhm, just like that,” you praised, your words lightening his view. He continued to pluck the strings and move his other hand, occasionally forgetting his next move which he picked up easily.

Once he became comfortable with the pattern he noticed your hands underneath his, playing a more complex tune. The two sounds - out of time - familiar to him.

You had shifted so you were practically in his lap and spoke “Ready?” To which he nodded, he would always be ready for you. You started, him following sourly after you, you slowed a little gaining motion with him.

“What is it?” He asked, his fingers messing up, his lips letting out a soft hum.

In your response you sung the chorus in time lowly.

I heard he lives down a river somewhere

With six cars and a grizzly bear

He's got eyes, but he can't see

Well he talks like an angel, but he looks like me

He smiled sweetly, still out of pace, but his dimples showed for your accomplished work. His soft curls fell over his gaze, obstructing him slightly, but he didn’t mind, he enjoyed the simple pleasures as your hands brushed against one another, his lips buzzing a soft sound.

I heard you sold the Amazon

To show the country that you're from

Is where the world should want to be

You both choked out verses and let your voice guide his. He was not a child of Apollo - his voice cracks were questionable - but it was sweet being amongst one another with no other priorities.

When Luke’s fingers became numb he relaxed into your side, his curls tickling your neck and soft breath hitting your skin. You continued to toy at the strings and drifted between a piece you’ve been working on and trying to memorise.

You were a ballad and he was dyslexic, your relationship was a constant blur.

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

Tag-list

@prettyinsatiable @daisydark @creamsweets @auttumnsayshi @ashr0 @y0urm0m12 @2hiigh2cry @niktwazny303

#luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #pjo x you #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #riawrites

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many-shades-of-violence · 4 months

Text

as your college roommate(s)

✢ content warnings: none

✢ characters: Smoker, Law, Corazon, Doflamingo, Shachi & Penguin

Smoker, majoring in Criminal Justice, embodies the essence of a "no-nonsense roommate," maintaining a room that reflects military precision in its impeccable organization and strict "no clutter" policy. Unleashing his wrath is not advised.

A punctual roommate, Smoker is always on time for everything, from classes to laundry, showcasing his commitment to discipline and order.

Beyond his room's physical discipline, Smoker takes on the role of the de facto organizer of the shared home. His talent for planning and coordination extends to home logistics and meticulously planned road trips.

During finals, Smoker transforms into a reliable study partner, demonstrating a disciplined approach that proves invaluable for those seeking constructive criticism during group study sessions and exam preparations.

Law

Law, the quiet and mysterious roommate, immerses himself in his own world surrounded by medical textbooks and anatomy diagrams, reflecting his major in Medicine.

A go-to person for minor injuries and health concerns, Law's medical knowledge becomes particularly appreciated during stressful exam seasons or, for some, PMS woes.

Law's hidden quirky sense of humor occasionally surfaces, catching roommates off guard with unexpected jokes and sarcastic comments, often shared in passing in the kitchen.

While Law may not actively organize study sessions, his room remains a haven for consultations, offering a quiet space for focused discussions despite the closed door.

Corazon

In university, Corazon studies art, transforming the room into a mini art gallery with his side adorned with paintings, sketches, and various craft projects.

Hosting small gatherings for art sessions, Corazon's free-spirited nature influences roommates to discover their own creative sides, fostering an atmosphere of self-expression.

Corazon assumes the role of peacemaker within the roommate group, mediating conflicts and promoting a harmonious living environment.

During exam season, Corazon's calming presence transforms the room into a serene space. As a sought-after study companion, he breaks down complex topics and, if unable to assist with content, ensures study breaks are accompanied by snacks.

Doflamingo

Doflamingo, majoring in performing arts, infuses the room with his flamboyance, turning it into a vibrant and bold space with colorful decorations and ever-changing styles.

The eccentric and flamboyant roommate, Doflamingo's outgoing personality doesn't overshadow his surprising focus when tackling studies, often burning the midnight oil on ambitious projects.

The room becomes a hub for extravagant parties, establishing it as the go-to spot for social gatherings on campus.

Doffy's unconventional study methods include impromptu motivational speeches and mnemonic devices. Those who can't handle the drama are advised to steer clear to save themselves from potential headaches.

Shachi and Penguin

Shachi and Penguin, nursing majors and childhood friends, bring a laid-back and easygoing vibe to the living space, filling their rooms with comics, CDs, and musical instruments.

The dynamic duo turns mundane activities into adventures, infusing a playful energy into everything from grocery shopping to doing laundry.

Despite their carefree demeanor, Shachi and Penguin are incredibly supportive friends, always ready to assist with assignments or lend an ear during late-night chats.

Their laid-back attitude extends to studying, making the experience enjoyable. With Shachi's logical approach complementing Penguin's creative thinking, they offer a well-rounded study experience as deadlines approach.

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gowonminajxx · 10 months

Text

— hobie brown and his smutty tendencies

:: A HC LIST. can be gn!reader but mainly for f!reader <3

++ me just blurting out all this shit LOL.

// CWs :: slight and extreme smut, smoking, hobie being flirty af 🤷‍♀️, author has terrible writing for british characters

— X = sfw

— XX = suggestive

— XXX = blatant smut

pick up lines are a no-go. hobie jst is smooth like that (X)

didn’t know hobie had that DAWG in him!

thinking about how hobie probably would never use those cheesy pick up lines someone like miles would use — or even peter b. hobie let’s it play out, hints being thrown everywhere about how he cares for you and wants to develop a further relationship with you (aka dating!!)

often calls you those pet names such as “doll” “bee” and other playful / dating ones even if you aren’t in a relationship. if you don’t like them, he teases you with them even more.

hobie brown and his lil smoking sessions with you (if you want to obviously) (XX)

thinking about how hobie will always insist on smoking with you. whether it’s plain old cigs or you and him are rolling papers together, getting high as hell in his own home.

if it was your first time, he’d teach you how to smoke it (simply.)

“just roll your pretty lips around the cig, and take a big breath. alright, doll?” he’d lean in just so you could hear, his breath grazing across your neck.

his intricate ways of touching you and finding excuses to touch you (XX)

hobie will always find some way to wrap his hand around your shoulders, place them there or place them .. in other places.

he often finds himself starved for your touch or some sort of physical contact between you two. his hand always glides from your shoulder to your waist, then a little higher, then a little lower, until he’s practically massaging your side.

once you two are further into your relationship, he always finds a way to touch you in more private places (such as your ass, hips or chest.)

if you two were in private or no one could see you, he’d wrap his hands right across your hips or your chest and give a little squeeze before pecking your neck with a soft kiss.

in public?? FO’ SURE .. (XXX)

thinking about how hobie enjoys seeing you squirm in public especially if he’s groping you somehow or whispering seductively in your ear.

he’d definitely be the type to pull you aside in the middle of something and fuck your brains out! for sure. ramming you against a bathroom stall? FOR SURE.

oh yeah, and taking you aside before or after a concert of his and seeing how willing you are to give him the juiciest head he’s ever had in his life. your lips forming around his length so sweetly, he couldn’t help but groan so loudly even if there’s people around checking themselves out in the mirror.

would he be the type to stick a vibrator in you and make you walk around? that’s up to you 🤷‍♀️……. he’d probably get a laugh out of it yk yk

musical instruments (X)

thinking about how hobie would teach you all his favorite songs on his guitar, while you sit in his lap. he guides your fingers gently, making you strum each string on perfect tune.

if you didn’t get it right, he’d help you and demonstrate for you, holding you close to his in the process.

his chin would be nudging into your neck the whole time while you play. no wonder you were messing up!

musical instruments and fingers (XXX)

thinking about how hobie teaching you how to play his favorite songs turns into him slamming 3 fingers inside of your entrance, causing you to let out loud cries.

the fact he takes off his rings to help you play already sets a tick off in your head. thinkin like .. damn is he gonna finger me?? you get a little excited at the thought even, giggling as his eyebrow raises.

“what’s so funny, doll?” he’d ask if you started giggling.

JSJSJJSS and just thinking about how hobie couldn’t get past one practice with you without turning it into a whole make out session + sex. his ass would NOTT stop thinking abt all those dirty thoughts the two of you share.

that’s all!!!! might update sooner or later thanks for reading my tiny little thoughts

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sleepingangelmusic · 7 months

Video

youtube

Lekato wireless guitar system

#youtube #lekato #enya ukulele #hugh tracey karimba #hugh tracey kalimba #roland tr-6s drum machine #stylophone #beat and bass #cobalt 5s #modal electronics #positive grid #positive grid go #musical instrument demonstration

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zegrasdrysdale · 4 months

Note

I wanted to send in a request for cole :)

Reader does yoga every morning and he wants her to teach him. It’s just something silly and cute

[ zen ] c. caufield

paring : Cole Caufield x fem!reader

summary : Cole finds (Y/N) one morning doing her yoga routine and he decides he wants her to teach him some yoga

warning(s) : some suggestive comments, but a lot of flirting

author’s note : this has been sitting in my inbox since i started the christmas fic marathon and i feel bad bc i wanted to focus on that … anon, hope you enjoy :)

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One of her favorite things about the day is the beginning of the day. She finds it incredibly relaxing to stretch out and do some yoga before she gets her day started. It puts her in the best mood, and she never misses a day.

Today is no different.

She walks into the garage gym that she and Cole have in their Montreal home with her yoga mat, her phone, and her AirPods in her hands. The sun has just started to rise so the sky is a beautiful mix of blue, purple, and orange. There's a light haze in the air so it's the perfect vibe for a morning yoga session.

She puts on some calming instrumental music and begins to stretch out so she doesn't pull anything while she's doing some yoga.

(Y/N) takes a minute to do some deep breathing exercises before she begins her session. She feels her muscles comfortably stretch as she goes through her usual yoga poses and stretches.

It feels so good to stretch out and do some morning yoga, especially after a good night's sleep. All her tight muscles get loose, and she keeps her breathing under control.

She's in a downward dog pose when she hears the garage door open and close. She turns her head to see her boyfriend in the doorway. His eyes aren't on her face though.

"Hey, my eyes are over here, Caufield," she comments as she slowly comes out of the pose. "You're never up this early, and you usually aren't here if you are."

Cole's eyes shift to her face. "I just woke up," he replies. "I think in more than one way." (Y/N) raises her eyebrows. "Anyway, can I join in? I keep trying to and I always miss your morning sessions. I want to learn how to do yoga. The trainer keeps telling me that my muscles are too tight."

Then he smiles that Cole Caufield smile and she suddenly doesn't know how to say no. She never knows how to say no when he flashes that smile at him.

"Fine," she replies. "No funny business though."

"No idea what you mean."

She playfully rolls her eyes and disconnects her AirPods so the two of them can hear the music. The instrumental music comes from her phone, which sits between them.

Cole grabs an extra yoga mat and sets up camp beside his girlfriend. She stands beside him on her own mat and says, "Follow my lead. I'm going to pick up where I left off when you interrupted me."

He smiles and she goes back down into downward dog. Cole takes it in and mirrors what she is doing. She looks over at him and sees that he's doing it wrong. "Oh my God, Cole," she sighs. "You have to put your feet flat on the ground and straighten your legs."

When he looks over at her confused, she comes out of the pose and turns to Cole. She straightens his knees and moves his legs in so his feet are flat on the mat. She presses her hands into his lower back so his back is straight.

"Yoga is so hard, (Y/N)," Cole tell her. It sounds like he's holding in his breath.

"You need to breathe, baby," she retorts. "I can tell you aren't breathing. Deep breaths. In and out. It keeps you relaxed and will help you loosen your muscles."

She hears Cole take a deep breath in. She smiles and watches him look up at her. He mirrors her smile. “Am I doing a good job?” he asks.

(Y/N) laughs and nods. “Yeah,” she tells him. “Move into the Cobra pose like this.” She demonstrates and Cole watches her intently.

When she’s pushing her upper body up with her legs flat on the ground, Cole tries his best to mirror what she did to get to the Cobra pose.

“Push your chest out and keep your arms slightly bent,” she orders him. Cole bends his stiff arms and pushes his chest out like she told him to. “Good job, Coley.”

Cole flushes and smiles. “I have a good teacher,” he says. (Y/N) laughs and shakes her head.

“Such a flatterer,” she retorts. “Push up into downward dog then push yourself up to your feet. Time for the next pose.”

He does what she says and they both push themselves up to their feet. Cole looks over at her with his eyebrows raised like he’s asking “what’s next?” “What do you have us doing next, Miss (L/N)?” Cole asks.

“Triangle.”

“What the fuck is triangle?”

(Y/N) laughs and walks over to her boyfriend. She kicks his feet a little wider than shoulder width apart, which brings him down to her height.

Cole smiles when he meets her eyes. “Hi, baby,” he says.

“Hi, my love,” she replies with a mirrored smile. (Y/N) leans in and presses a small kiss to his lips.

They get a little distracted for a few seconds when Cole deepens the kiss. His hands come up to cup her jaw and she lets her hands fall to his waist.

She mumbles, “We’re not done yet, Coley.”

“Can’t we go do yoga in bed?” he questions as he pulls away. Not very far though because his lips still touch hers when he talks. “I know a couple of poses that’ll stretch us out really good.”

The innuendo makes her laugh and shake her head. “You know I have to finish my routine,” she tells him. “You said you wanted to join me and learn yoga. Now, bend right at the waist. Put one hand on the ground next to your right foot and put your left arm facing the sky.”

He groans and listens to her. “I’m starting to dislike yoga, (Y/N),” he pants.

“Breathe, Cole,” she reminds him. He inhales deeply and exhales.

There are a few more poses then they’re done. Cole gets all happy.

“That was actually really fun,” he tells her. “I feel loose.”

As (Y/N) rolls up her mat, she says, “You should join me on the days you are here in the morning.”

Cole blinks at her and rolls up his own mat. “That’s okay,” he replies. “It’s more of an every so often thing for me. I am really glad you found something you like and can do all the time.”

She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck. “I really enjoyed doing yoga with you so you can come here any time you want,” she states. “Maybe I’ll teach you some more poses.”

“I think I’d like that,” Cole says with a smile. “Now, can we please go take care of my little problem? Because you don’t know how much I really liked seeing you in your yoga outfit.”

With a laugh, she grabs his hand and leads him into the main house.

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MASTERLIST

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#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield fluff #zegrasdrysdale request

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finn-writes-stuff · 6 months

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Jack of All Trades (pt 2)

A follow-up to -this- post, with the rest of the party. The Original Request: Hello. If you're willing and have the time, I jumbly request a TLOVM headcannon for the team having an s/o who steals their weapons and tries to figure out to use them. What would their reactions be and would they/how would they teach them to use the weapons?

Percy, Vax, Scanlan & Grog x Reader

Fandom: The Legend of Vox Machina/ Critical Role

Format: Headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

Some credit to my lovely partner for giving me accurate info about their specific weapons. As well as a discussion on whether or not you can say Percy or Orthax invented Guns. -Finn

Percy

With anyone else in the party, there's a good chance you may have used a weapon like theirs before. But not Percy and his guns. These are his own inventions, new to Tal'Dorei completely.

They are also powered by exploding gunpowder. He is a little bit worried about letting you handle them.

Hearing a gunshot when he isn't causing it is a deep cause of concern for him, please don't steal his guns, just ask.

Percy will absolutely teach you! It's a chance to have his arms around you as he steadies your aim and stance.

He's a very...specific teacher. You have to make sure he doesn't get too wrapped up in the fine details. Keep him on track with how to shoot and he won't get way into the actual mechanics of the hammer of the gun.

Let him watch you shoot after you get the hang of it. He'll start to understand why you like watching him so much.

Vax

This man owns so many knives. He has a full-out collection of daggers. Hugging him is a dangerous prospect because you never know where one is hiding.

And with all the different daggers, it can't be that hard to steal one or two of them. How could he even notice?

Stealing them proves to be surprisingly hard. He doesn't store many of them, they always seem to be on his person.

But once you manage it, it's quite a lot of fun to handle a truly well-made dagger. In a fantasy world like this, every adventurer has held a dagger, but Vax turns it into an art and his tools reflect that.

They are also insanely sharp. Don't get too cocky with them.

He swipes them out of your hands when he finds you with them, and it's obvious just how experienced he is with handling knives. He can twist and spin them without a glance or a nick.

"Well, well, someone's got sticky fingers, hey love?"

He'll teach you how to throw them accurately and how to spin them without hitting your fingers. He will also tease you while you practice before you get the hang of it.

Scanlan

Scanlan doesn't particularly use a weapon! He's fairly strictly a spellcaster.

That being said, his instruments are likely the next best thing, particularly his lute. And that is his baby, best of luck stealing it.

If you ask him, he'll let you play it and he'll teach you during downtime. He will also serenade you for demonstrations.

He'll be annoyed if you take it without asking though. His music is a source of safety for him as much as a source of joy.

Let him teach you songs around the fire at night and serenade him in return. He won't stop smiling for ages.

Grog

Grog has had some...questionable weapons. Perhaps don't borrow Craven's Edge.

But borrowing his axe or his gauntlets is a world of fun. Even if they might not be well weighted for anyone who isn't as strong as he is.

You will quickly realize how much work goes into swinging his axe and it puts his effortless attacks into a very different light for you.

Grog laughs out loud when he sees you using his weapons, but it's full of fondness and affection.

Even if he isn't exactly academically clever, this is his skill set, he knows how to fight and he does it well. So he's a really good teacher as he corrects your stance and grip.

His teaching method also includes encouraging you to just swing at him, so you'll need a bit of courage and faith that you won't hurt him.

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hibiscusfairys · 9 months

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image !!

🍂 draco malfoy ; unrequited love, part 3 (hufflepuff fem reader)

♪ lover, you should come over : jeff buckley

part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5

♡ warnings: angst

tagged: @miawastakens @watercolorskyy

☆

It was the night of the Yule Ball.

You examined your hopeless reflection, the dress you wore draping straight over your figure. The puffed sleeves were decorated with lace and the silk of the dress fell to your feet.

You clasped your fingers together.

The Yule Ball is a dance, and you were going to be dancing with Adrian Pucey.

There was no doubt that Pucey wasn’t a bad looker. But you felt so empty. You both treated each other as a last resort, knowing that it would be difficult to grasp another date if you even tried. So you settled with him, unsatisfied with what you had.

With one final re-adjustment of your hair, you lifted your dress above your ankles, and walked down the stairway by yourself. The walls were calmly lit with candles.

You could hear ongoing chatter of people inside of the ballroom, eagerness emitting from the crowd. Dread snaked your stomach as you saw Adrian Pucey stood infront of the doorway, awaiting your arrival. You could sense his feeling from a mile away — his expression reeked terribly of discomfort as you approached. It wasn’t one sided, either.

“Please, let us get this over with,” He said, a laugh slightly escaping from his lips. “I only waited so I could confirm I wouldn’t get stood up.”

“You and me both don’t want this, Pucey.” You said, your gaze softening onto him. “You can separate yourself from me until the dance.”

“Then.. I’ll be off.” His eyes flickered to your dress and then your face. He raised his hand to wave, as he cautiously backed away.

Your vision followed his figure stray from you as you were alone, yet again.

You stood alone, mindless in front of the doorway. But you couldn’t stay forever.

You walk towards the stairs that led you down to the ballroom, scanning the room for the one you had anticipated seeing all evening. And there he was, laughing away, a glass held delicate in his pale hand. His arm snaked around Astoria’s back as he pulled her closer, gifting her his pearly smile that you dreamt he would, one day, give you.

The music pounded in your ears as you watched your steps. The insecurity you felt was major despite the attention you wanted from him had focused elsewhere.

“You look beautiful,” Susan Bones, a friend of yours, whispered to you as she leant in. “Did you go with Pucey?”

“Yes.” You replied, hiding your disappointment. “He’s elsewhere.”

“He should really be with you..” Susan said as she sipped her lemonade. “It’s unfair.”

You shook your head. “Actually, it was me.”

“You want to be by yourself? But why?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Because the one I wanted to ask has sadly not complied. So I’m here miserable.” You joked, even though you were upset too.

She softly tapped your shoulder. “There, there.”

You watched the crowd meddle and blend together. The band blared their music loudly through their instruments before it was time for Professor McGonagall to officially announce the dance, the one you had been fearing. The thoughts of Adrian Pucey’s hands on your waist made you grimace so severely that you even debated with yourself to pull out. But you were brave, and you were going to put your problems of jealousy and unrequited love aside for the moment. You didn’t want to ruin this for him either, after all. It would be so selfish.

A tap on a glass turned the people silent as the dance commenced. First, the Tri-Wizard champions poured onto the dancefloor first, demonstrating their first dance. You could only watch in awe at the way Cedric Diggory admired Cho Chang, envy bleeding through you like ink. No matter, no matter…

Now, you needed to focus on dancing. And not ruining your partners night.

Pucey awkwardly walked up to you, stood infront of you like a narrow stick. You grinned comfortably as you let him take your waist, directing you through the dance as Bonnie Raitt played on the large gramophone.

You didn’t actually feel too uncomfortable. That didn’t mean you enjoyed it.

Every so often, your gaze directed helplessly to the bobbing head of the blonde twirling his ‘missus’ elegantly with grace. Even the way she danced was beautiful.

You could hold in the tears, sure you can. But how long would it be until you’d finally break?

You also noticed Adrian becoming just as detached. Was he also thinking of someone else?

After the official dance had ended, it was time to really celebrate. Many people split from their counterpart and decided to create smaller clustered groups, dancing away to the music. Romantic ballads, pop, rock, and disco were echoing from the gramophone.

You sat hunched by yourself, a glass of punch cupped in your palm.

You looked up and saw Malfoy there, as if he was spotlighted. And he was looking at you. But not with the usual, condescending gaze that he always did. It appeared more desperate, and more sad. More remorseful, and more guilty.

You were absorbed into his vision.

Your longing for him grew immensely the more your eyes locked together. He could sense the love you held for him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He was torn between a feeling of love or guilt. There was no obvious answer to him. And he didn’t know what to make of it. Was he ashamed? Or was he also longing for you?

His gaze was soft on you. You couldn’t help but relish in it. Finally, the one shard of attention he had shed on you tonight.

But when he looked away, it was like the connection between you in that moment that had pulled you together, suddenly snapped.

Astoria seemed like a wonder to him.

The way his eyes lit when he saw her agonised you the most. The way he only looked at you with neutrality or negativity provoked it even more.

Because in the end, you knew there was an obvious choice for him, no matter how much you fed your beliefs that there was a chance.

☆

ILL MAKE A PART FOURR because i want a happy ending so bad im telling you :((

#harry potter #angst #draco angst #draco imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco x female reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x reader #harry potter fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco x muggleborn

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months

Note

Hi! I've been really curious, besides the Light Music Club members, who are the characters who can play an instrument on canon timeline? Thank you for answering my question^^

Mmm, I’m not sure what you mean by “canon timeline”?? If you mean the main story, there are few, if any, times where characters mention they play instruments (just because it isn’t relevant to what’s happening). Most instances appear in vignettes or event stories (which are considered “part of canon” but not always happening in the same timeline as the main story).

Off the top of my head, I recall:

The Light Music Club does play instruments as part of their activities! More specifically, Kalim is usually on drums, Cater plays guitar, and Lilia the electric bass.

Lilia is actually said to be able to play multiple instruments, including the bagpipes. We can see many instruments in the corner of his bedroom.

Kalim can also play the oud.

Malleus has a talent with string instruments (violin, cello, etc). However, this talent is limited to classical instruments and not electric ones. He once tried to play an electric guitar and almost killed poor Cater’s ears 😂

The Octatrio used to be in a band in middle school. Azul played piano, Floyd played drums, and Jade played the double bass (NOT the electric bass; those are two totally different instruments).

Jade plays a flute in the Harveston event. Epel shows that he can play a concertina (which is an accordion-like instrument).

Sebek and Idia try playing a violin in the same event. Idia doesn’t really try to play, he just does the motions and plays an actually competent player’s performance via his phone. Sebek sucks at the violin, but his lung capacity makes him good for playing woodwinds (though he lacks the skill for it). He refuses to keep playing on the flute because Malleus is not one for woodwinds.

Marja (Epel’s grandma) and Malleus can play the pipe organ; the latter does it during Endless Halloween Night.

Grim can make a racket on cymbals and the castanets!

Rook and Ruggie play the trumpet in Port Breeze Fest! Floyd demonstrates his skill with the saxophone. Jack also plays flute here. The event rhythmic/twistunes shows us the boys banging on various items like drums.

In White Rabbit Fest, Epel, Ortho, Deuce, and Silver attempt playing bugles but none of them are very good at it.

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greenthena · 5 months

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The Eldritch Ball or Aziraphale's Macabre Danse

I'm a huge sucker for dark classical music (I'm using the term "classical" broadly, not referring to the specific period. Music-y folks, please forgive.) As such, Saint-Saëns's "Danse Macabre" is one of my all time favorite pieces. It's spooky. It's intentionally dissonant. It's even got a jump scare! Like, literally, the perfect piece of music.

youtube

The story behind "Danse Macabre" goes like this: Each Halloween at midnight, Death enters the graveyard with a fiddle. As he plays, the skeletons rise from the ground and dance through the cemetery, resurrected by Death's power and possessed by his instrument.

In S2 E3, the Bentley plays "Danse Macabre" as Aziraphale drives up to Edinburgh. "What do we do? We play classical music that stays classical music." (And the Bentley listens to him! Because the Bentley is an expression of Crowley's subconscious and wants to please him and make him happy...and I'm sure you can find lots of excellent metas to that end. Or maybe you have another theory about why the Bentley is so pliant toward the angel? I'd love to hear it. But that's not what I'm talking about right now. I'm just getting distracted.)

Why is this song so perfect for a bit of subtle foreshadowing and repeated metaphor? So glad you asked. I have reasons. And evidence. Please, peruse my wares.

In the A Plot of this episode, Aziraphale travels to Scotland to visit a pub called The Resurrectionist. (Ya know, like Death? Like how Death resurrects people in the song? Okay, just wanted to really hit that nail into the coffin.) The pub is, of course, named for a certain Mr. (not Dr., he's a surgeon) Dalrymple, whom Crowley and Aziraphale meet in the accompanying flashback minisode entitled (you'll never guess) "The Resurrectionist." The minisode plot involves Crowley and his the angel encountering young Elspeth, a grave robber who, like Death, releases the bodies of the deceased from their earthly bonds of soil and stone. My interpretation is that Elspeth becomes Death incarnate, first in the process of using her instrument (her shovel) to resurrect the dead, and later when she inadvertently brings about the literal death of her partner, Wee Morag. Rather than allow Wee Morag's body to turn to dust in the ground, Elspeth "resurrects" her, selling her body to Dr. Dalrymple (sorry, Mr. Dalrymple, he's a surgeon, not a doctor), who will use Wee Morag's body for research, which will in turn save the lives of countless others by furthering the field of medicine. A form of resurrection, indeed. There's also the plot thread of Crowley and Aziraphale providing Elspeth with a nest egg to escape the cycle of poverty into which she has been born. This, too, is another form of re-birth. Or, say it with me, resurrection. Alright, you're getting it now.

Okay, now I get to delve into the fun stuff. Let's talk about that cotillion ball, shall we? You know, that danse party where Aziraphale persuades all the shopkeepers on Whickber street to attend a Jane Austen-style ball?

I personally refer to this whole fiasco experience as the Eldritch Ball. On the surface, it seems fairly innocent. The shopkeepers need a little bit of encouragement to attend the Whickber Street monthly meeting, but the angel manages to convince everyone to join with the help of some coercion-via-bribery. When they show up, they're transmuted into Austen-esque characters, from their clothes, to their speech patterns, even to some extent, their perception of reality. This is where it starts to get a little uncomfortable if you peel back the layers. Mrs. Sandwich can't talk about what she does for a living, which is a great comedy bit, but also demonstrates that her speech is being significantly censored and altered by an outside force. With the exception of Mr. Brown (hidden agendas here, Neil? I honestly don't know), all the shopkeepers find themselves in new, slightly-period-appropriate garments. What's really weird, though, is that no one notices the changes. When the dancing begins, to the music of Mr. Anderson's piano and an accompanying string quartet (strings...as in violins...as in fiddles. Remember Death's fiddle?), Nina appears to be the only one who realizes that something is off.

Maggie: This is something new.

Nina: This is something completely bonkers. Are we...? Why is everyone talking like they've escaped from Pride and Prejudice?

Maggie: Just getting into the spirit of things, I suppose.

Nina: The spirit of what things? This is meant to be the shopkeeper association monthly meeting.

Maggie: Hmm. Yes. Now that you put it like that...

Nina: Are we dancing?

Maggie: Yes.

Nina: Did you ever learn the steps to this dance?

Maggie: It's just what we do, isn't it?

Nina: No. No, it isn't. This is something mad. This is their [Crowley & Azirapahle's] fault. They're doing this.

Something is definitely mad. One might even say it's macabre. Aziraphale has become Death the Resurrectionist. He has lured the shopkeepers of Whickber Street through a portal (as Death leads his flock from the world of the dead to the world of the living.) Aziraphale's instrument is his clipboard and pen, held almost as one might hold a fiddle and bow, as he invites the various shopkeepers to the monthly meeting. Once they all arrive, he miraculously gives them new clothes (as Death knits together the bones of the dead), and then proceeds to control their bodies and minds, as though they are merely marionettes. They dance and speak in the way Aziraphale imagines, fulfilling his fantasy of a perfect Jane Austen-style ball (quite literally, the Danse Macabre.)

The shopkeepers have become the dead and Aziraphale controls them until the spell is broken--or rather until the window is broken.

To be honest, I don't think Aziraphale is really aware of how much he is able to transfigure his environment, including the humans who happen to be close by. Or, at least, I don't believe he does any of this with ill intent. He's just a bit blind to anything outside his fixation of wooing Crowley, at the moment. As a result, he creates a situation that is profoundly problematic and unnatural. Just like the dead in the graveyard have no agency when Death plays his fiddle, the Whickber Street shopkeepers are possessed by Aziraphale's intricate romantic fantasy and must dance as long as the music plays.

It is, in fact, only when the music stops, that the shopkeepers begin to realize that something is most certainly weird. The diagetic music (Mr. Anderson & Co.) abruptly cuts off when an approaching demon horde tosses a brick through the bookshop window. Now the spell, or in this case, miracle, begins to break down. While the shopkeepers still appear to be somewhat under the influence of Aziraphale's persuasive aura, a few of them glance down at their clothes in confusion and look around the bookshop, as though waking from a dream. And at this point, after a little finagling, Crowley escorts the humans out of the bookshop and out of Aziraphale's Danse Macabre.

Once the demons attack the bookshop Aziraphale's influence on his surroundings really starts to deteriorate. Throughout the season, he's been able to structure and manipulate reality (sometimes with Crowley's help) to suit his needs: protecting Gabriel, altering the Bentley, organizing the Ball, etc. But once the bookshop, his safe space, has been breached, he loses control of the situation. From this point in the narrative, nothing goes according to Aziraphale's plan. Aziraphale wants to protect Jimbriel, but the former archangel insists on giving himself over to the demons. Crowley leaves and Aziraphale has to defend the bookshop on his own, when he'd expected Crowley to come right back and save him. While defending the bookshop, Aziraphale reaches his "last" resort not once, but twice: first allowing Nina and Maggie to use his books (!!!) as weapons and then blowing up his halo in a last ditch effort to fend off the invaders. This was not on the agenda for today!

Things just continue to go downhill from there, Aziraphale losing all control of the situation. And by the time the Final Fifteen wraps up, the angel has lost his bookshop and possibly his most important relationship. By the end of the season, Aziraphale is no longer Death the Resurrectionist, the manipulator and puppeteer. Now the angel has become the puppet, dancing to Heaven's music.

#good omens #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #go metas #good omens meta #danse macabre #camille saint saëns #the bentley #nina and maggie #eldritch ball #elspeth #wee morag #dark music #Youtube

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