#nor was he born for lucifer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegayestmferintown · 2 months

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can you do an mc that cant remember anything? It might be simple at first, but it causes a lot of problems since they also forget abt their birthdays, events, and ofc, their anniversaries if they get with them

my writers block has left and I am giggling and kicking my feet

I'm not gonna say anymore because I will jinx it 😭

This Takes Place In The Original Timeline

Warnings ;; None, just fluff!

Relationship ;; Romantic

Type ;; Headcanons

LUCIFER ;; THE PRIDEFUL ELDEST

Now, Lucifer is actually pretty used to things like this.

With his brothers being, well, his brothers, it's common for them to forget things

He's pretty used to watching Mammon forget a textbook and bringing it with him because Mammon's already run off.

So, when he meets you, it's nothing new. He takes care of you he says it's because he has to but we all know that's not true and makes sure that he brings things to RAD that you forget.

He's not that bothered when you forget your anniversary, because he's used to your nature.

Don't think that he won't put anything together though. He most definitely will, despite your forgetfulness.

MAMMON ;; THE SCUMMY SECOND-BORN

Mammon's pretty forgetful himself, as stated previously.

He'll forget a textbook every now and again, but important dates are most definitely engraved into his greedy little brain.

When he meets you, he's a little taken aback because of your intense forgetfulness, but he honestly gets it.

He's only a tad bit bothered by the fact that you forgot, but it stops bothering him once he remembers just how forgetful you are.

Like Lucifer, He'll most definitely put something together. It might not be as well put together as Lucifer's may be, but he tries, and that's all that matters.

LEVIATHAN ;; THE OTAKU THIRD-BORN

Levi probably wouldn't notice. Given how little he cares for your existence in the beginning of the game, I doubt he'd really notice or care at first.

While Levi isn't as forgetful, He is a bit concerned with how much you forget things, if he does happen to notice.

You'd probably be playing a game and just.. straight-up forget how to play, I think he'd start to realize it from then on.

He probably isn't much bothered by you forgetting, but he would say a couple of negative things about him just being a "nasty, yucky otaku" (same)

He probably wouldn't put anything too big together, he'd simply pull up a couple games and you'd have a gaming session together.

SATAN ;; THE CYNICAL FOURTH BORN

Now, I'd oddly think that this would kind of annoy Satan.

I mean, he's Satan. The Avatar of Wrath. You expect him to not be irritated by something like that?

Of course, he would outwardly show you his annoyance once he first meets you. Later on though, as annoying as it still may be, he'll stop showing his annoyance and hide it as best he can.

If you forget your anniversary, he might be a tad bit disappointed, but it won't show, let alone will it be any noticable.

He, like Mammon and Lucifer, will put something together. Small, maybe a cat cafe where you can read or something.

ASMODEUS ;; THE NARCISSISTIC FIFTH-BORN

Asmo might be a little concerned, believe it or not. Both in the beginning, and after you two get together.

He will be entirely concerned on just how forgetful you are. He wouldn't be surprised if you barley remember your own name. (I don't even remember my own name half the time..)

He'd be so offended if you ever forgot his name or anything about him.

You can never tell if he's genuinely offended or not.

If you happen to forget your anniversary, surprisingly, he won't judge nor will he be upset.

Like Satan, Mammon, and Lucifer, he'll put something together. Despite it being well, Asmo, he will make it a small date at Hell's Kitchen, if that's what you'd like.

BEELZEBUB ;; THE FAMISHED SIXTH-BORN

Beel's definitely forgetful himself, but in his own himbo-y way.

He'll forget very small, tiny things.

But it does kind of take him off guard by how much you forget when you first meet.

He honestly feels kind of bad.

If you forget your anniversary, he literally will not care. Not in a bad way. He just won't be angry or upset if you forgot. He'd actually be very forgiving and kind about it.

He might ask you to cook something for him, but that's really it.

Unless you actually want to celebrate it, he'll do whatever you want. He'll follow your lead.

BELPHEGOR ;; THE CATNAPPING SEVENTH-BORN

Belphie completely despises you at first, and not just because of the whole you-being-a-human thing.

You get on every single nerve when you two first meet.

Once he gets to know you, he feels bad about hating you and eventually just.. stops.

He feels bad about the fact that you barely remember anything, but he won't say anything about it.

If you forget your anniversary, he'll pull you away from whatever you're doing to take you up to the attic to take a nap with him.

He'll only explain if you ask. He'll simply say, "it's our anniversary." Before falling asleep.

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devildomditzy · 1 year

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Pacts - Mammon x MC

part two of ?

haven’t read part one? start here!

done? finish the story here!

Tags: angst w/ eventual comfort, very small mention of blood/endangerment

author’s note + tag list at the end ❤️

——————————————————————————

“And so you see, that’s why it is vitally important that when practicing seductive speechcraft, you annunciate your words very clearly, and -

blah

blah-”

Mammon stopped listening to this lecture awhile ago. In fact, he wasn’t even listening to begin with, how could he? His mind was too focused on you - mainly the fact that no matter how hard he looked around the House of Lamentation, he couldn’t find you, no hide nor hair. After you ran off, he walked towards the house, decidely not running after you. Setting off at a slow pace, he figured he’d give you some distance, some time to cool off. Upon his arrival, he knew he’d be the last demon in this place you’d want to speak to, but nevertheless, you’re his responsibility.

“Oi! Mc! Open up! C‘mon we can’t be late, Lucifer will light both our asses up,” he chides, knocking at your door three times. He waits a bit, only to be met with silence. “MC, I know yer in there, c’mon!”, he raises his voice, annoyance rising with each word. Still, nothing. He sighs, swallowing his pride. He knows what he has to do-

“Listen, if this is ‘bout what I said earlier I…I didn’t mean..i mean..its just…h-how childish can ya be, huh? Not answerin’s gunna get us both in trouble! Now come out!”

-but try as he might, he can’t do it. Why apologize? To the human of all people? The one who had the audacity to do something that caused his pact mark to show up there. Musta done it to make me look stupid to the others, he thinks to himself. Their idea of a joke.

Tired of talking to himself, he reaches a hand towards the doorknob and twists, surprised to find it unlocked. The second born walks into the center of the room, shoving his hands in his pockets. “If yer hidin’, ya can come out now. I’m gettin’ real tired of this game!”

After a minute of no response, Mammon thinks he may really be alone in the house’s guest room. He bends down to peer under your bed, finding it just as empty as the rest of your room. He tried the wardrobe with similar results.

He peeks into your closet, only to find various outfits you had picked up when Lucifer made him take you to Majolish in your first days here. He spots a jacket hanging in the corner.

That stupid jacket. The one you looked great in but weren’t convinced yourself. The one you timidly asked for his opinion on. The one that brought out the color in your eyes and made you smile to yourself in the mirror and kind of matched his own. The one he told you looked as bland as the rest of the stuff in your arms and that you were taking up to much of his time with just by asking a question. He remembers the hurt on your face, it was the same face you made to him this morning. He stares at it a beat too long before making to leave the room. He begins to feel an unpleasant anxiety in his stomach, and he can only assume it’s thanks to your disappearance. ‘M used to them bein’ around is all. Gotta find em before Lucifer freaks.

Now if you had a human from another realm wearing a royal demon academy uniform possibly harboring negative feelings towards their great, all powerful and totally breathtaking bodyguard, where would you put them? Mammon continues to repeat this question in his mind as he searches through the HOL’s most trafficked hangouts. Unfortunately for him, there was no sight of you in the kitchen, the foyer, the library, the common area, any of the bathrooms, the conservatory, or anywhere for that matter.

Annoyed, he takes out his D.D.D. and clicks on your most recent text thread with him.

Mammon: This is stupid! Where ya at!

Mammon: You said you were commin’ back to HOL, so why ain’t ya here?

Hearing the unmistakable ding of your D.D.D notification sound, he whips around to see where the sound came from, before realizing the source of the noise sat abandoned in the backpack around his shoulders. Tch.

Wish this dumb pact worked both ways, he thought to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. Why’d they have to be so difficult…

Why’d I have to go n’ open my stupid mouth.

With no way to contact you and no idea where you could be, Mammon storms off back to R.A.D. If Lucifer was gonna kill him for losing his new brat, he wasn’t gonna give him another reason to revive and kill him again by not showing up to school.

Which brings him to now, nervously shaking his leg while hiding his phone under the table, just in case one of his brothers texts him about you, or says anything about you. It begins to hit him, as he hears his professor drone on, that you’re human. A stupidly soft, extremely fragile, totally marked as food by demons other than the council, human.

What if while you were running back towards HOL, you got lost? What if while you were running back towards HOL, someone took you? What if while you were running away from him because everything he wants to say comes out wrong, someone hurt you.

He can’t take it anymore. He abruptly stands, practically running out of the classroom. “Young man, where do you think you’re going?”, the professor calls out to him, but Mammon chooses to ignore them, slamming the classroom door behind him. He needs to find you, and fast. He needs to know that you’re okay. He needs to protect you, because Lucifer told him to. He needs to protect you, because he wants to protect you.

Pacing in the hallway, he knows what he has to do, but doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it. “Dammit!”, he mutters as he clicks on the chat on his phone that contains all his siblings minus Lucifer.

Mammon: Have any of ya seen the human?

Levi: Us? Weren’t you supposed to be watching them?

Asmo: Oh dear! Don’t tell me you ran them off already!

Satan: How did you manage to lose a whole creature, let alone one that can talk and communicate exactly alike us?

Levi: Lol

Beel: I haven’t seen them. I’ll let you know if I do.

Mammon: Thanks, Beel. At least one of ya are helpful.

Asmo: That’s sad! I was soooo hoping I’d get a turn to play with them <3

Mammon: Can it, Asmodeus!

Satan: Pulling out the full names? You must really be upset.

Levi: Can’t you just text them?

Mammon: I can’t. They...forgot their phone in their room like some idiot.

Satan: My my, stealing from the exchange student already, are we?

Mammon: I didn’t steal nothin’ from ‘em. They just don’t have their phone on them, okay!?

Levi: Have you checked purgatory hall?

Purgatory hall…

Purgatory hall!

How could he be so stupid! Of course! Where else would a human run to when demons have hurt them? To the angels!

He moves faster than he has in a long time, not since the fall, until he finds himself in front of the door to the angel’s and shady sorcerer’s shared dorm room.

A raises a fist to knock but before he can, the door creeks open to reveal a smiling Simeon. Damn angel intuition. Though he beams brightly, the smile does not reach his eyes. He looks a bit sad, and maybe even…disappointed? “Mammon. We’ve been expecting you.”, Simeon courteously bows his head.

“Yea yea hey to you too ‘n all that. Listen, is the human here?”, Mammon questions while nervously drumming his fingers against his thigh. Simeon’s expression softens at the mention of you. “Why yes, they are, but they have been in brighter moods before. Would you care to come in and speak with them?”

Mammon peers around Simeon’s form in the door frame to see you sitting on one of the common room’s couches next to Luke. The chihuahua pours you some more tea from a pot on the table as you wipe at your eyes. The puffy redness under them tells him all he needs to know. He’d made you cry.

In that moment, his mind screams at him. He was awful. He was a scumbag. He was every horrible thing his brothers and those money hungry witches called him combined and-

“Mammon?”, your small voice rings out. Simeon steps aside and gestures for him to enter the room. It takes his mind a minute to catch up to his movements, but after a brief stutter he enters, walking towards your hunched over frame.

Simeon is quick to follow him, calling out to Luke, “Why don’t we go see Barbatos? If he’s not busy, we can see about learning that new recipe you’ve been looking forward to?”

“Yeah!”, Luke excitedly cheers, face falling when he turns back to you, “But-but MC is so sad! We can’t just leave them like this! I swear when I find out who made them cry, I’m gonna give them the what for!”

You give a small chuckle at the little angel’s antics. It’s the same smile that makes Mammon’s stomach fill with butterflies. Gah!- He hates that feeling. He doesn’t know what to do about it. How to make it go away.

“I’m fine Luke, I swear. I just had a rough morning is all. Go with Simeon, I’ve got to get back to class anyway.”

Luke looks to you, then to Mammon, before landing on Simeon. “What’s he doing here?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, Chihuahua!”, Mammon laughs before ruffling Luke’s hat into his hair, much at the angel’s dismay.

“I am NOT a CHIHUAHUA!”, he yells, increasingly becoming more red in the face. Simeon brings a hand to his mouth to hold back a laugh.

“Come along Luke, let’s give them some space. Solomon’s out, so please lock the door behind you when you leave,” Simeon gracefully states while taking Luke’s hand, guiding him out of the room. Before he leaves, he turns and winks at Mammon in a not so secretively way, as you catch it too. The action makes Mammon growl, but pulls another giggle out of you. The sound makes the butterflies stronger.

Mammon awkwardly stands in front of you, almost willing you to speak, like he was the one owed an apology. He shuffles his weight side to side, from one foot to the other before cramming his hands into his pockets. You shyly look away from him, but still reach a hand out to pat the cushion next to you, motioning for him to sit down. Stupid human, still nice to me when ya supposed to be mad. Despite his thoughts, he takes your offer, tense as he carefully sits next to you like a statue.

You both sit in silence for awhile, basking in each other’s presences. He wants to say something, anything to break the suffocating atmosphere you’ve both created here, but he can’t find the words. How can he when every time he looks at you his mind goes blank and his heart yearns to spill.

“Listen, I-” “You know-”

“You go first, Mammon”, you yield, allowing the second born to continue.

“Runnin’ off like that in the middle of the Devildom is dangerous! It’s crazy for a lower level demon, let alone some ballsy human. What would I woulda done if all I found of ya was a pile of bones? A trail of yer blood? Huh?” I thought I lost you.

“I-I can handle myself just fin-”

“Clearly. Is that why you went and made a pact with a demon? One of hell’s lords? Cause ya can handle everything by yerself? Cause ya so big and strong by yerself?” I’m supposed to protect you.

“T-that’s not fair, Levi coerced me-”

“And then ya ran to the angels when you were upset? Whadda they have that we don’t? What can they do that we can’t?” What can they do for you that I can’t.

“You said our pact mark was a blemish-”

“It is! Who the hell would want the symbol of some good for nuthin’, money grubbin’ scumbag like me on their heart! It should be Lucifer’s, o-or Beel’s, or…someone else. Anyone else.” I’m not worthy of you.

“Mammon,” your voice shakes, but remains sickly sweet. You place a hand over top his. His face shoots up to meet your gaze. The butterflies are swarming like crazy.

“If you hate our pact that much, if you hate where the sigil formed that much, let’s ask Lord Diavolo how to break it-”

“NO!”, Mammon shoots up to his feet, running a hand through his hair to calm his nerves. He can hear a similar waver in his own voice. “No, no that’s not what I meant. Tch! Why doesn’t it ever come out right! I swear when it comes ta you i just-”, Mammon sighs, trying to calm himself down. His face is beet red, he just knows it and father, do you have to look at him like that? With a face full of kindness and concern and love for him, the expression that you only give him and none of his brothers and none of the angels and none of the royals and no one else but him.

“MC, do ya know what it means when a pact mark forms there?”

——————————————————————————

Author’s Note: Gaaaah!!! Thank you all so much for your response on this series! It’s been kinda insane! I’m really thankful for all your notes and I’ve read every tag that was left for me. You’re all so sweet! This should have at the very least one more part, so please let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list for part 3!

Taglist: @someoneunkownforyou @fandomhell97 @crocrafts @dragonageoregons @furblrwurblr @youaskedfurret @simpinginthecorner @astarotha @glitterandgoldfinds @liminalimmortal @bestblob @crow-charlie @hauntedcatnerd @aprilwallflower @ungodlywoes

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nevadancitizen · 9 days

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-> ATOM BOMB BABY!

synopsis: you're a nomadic survivor in a post-apocalyptic wasteland until you get transported to a strange, new world. these demons were obviously expecting a human that was softer, less spikes-and-thorns and more fluff-and-wool. how will they react and adapt?

word count: 3.3k (~530 each)

characters: lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor, post-apocalyptic! reader

trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, it's implied that the reader has killed before and will kill again lol

notes: new vegas and obey me! have been kicking me in the head repeatedly recently. so there are some allusions/references to new vegas in this one but you don't need to know jack about new vegas to understand this :) also mammon's is longer than everyone else's and he's pining hard for mc because i'm soooo in love with him it's not even funny and IGNORE that there's a lot of holes you could poke in this.. okay? okay <3

It had been a… a miscalculation, really. An embarrassing one. Diavolo had accounted for many things to ensure the success of the Exchange Program, but he failed to account for the most important thing: the fact that, at the end of the day, humans are better at killing than any other living thing.

Was it wrong for him to assume that things had been the same way they were two hundred years ago? Yes, of course. It was stupid not to check in on the human world, because if he had, he’d find that it was razed by nuclear bombs, the land and water still tainted with the fallout.

So, no, neither he nor the brothers know what to do when you quite literally fall out of the portal. They’re shocked when, instead of being confused and scared and fragile, you’re vile, scarred, spitting threats as if they came naturally. Wait – are you wearing riot armor? And – yeah, that’s a gun. Definitely a gun. A gun you’re currently pointing at them.

-> LUCIFER

Honestly, this is the last thing Lucifer needed: another fucking headache. He supports Diavolo with all that he is, but he can’t ignore the fact that he’s sometimes so careless that shit like this happens. He’s the one who talks some sense into you and gets you to holster your weapon, as he’s the only one with a level head in the room. (Well, Diavolo would be the other, but he’s… weirdly excited that this human is challenging and has so many thorns you’d think they were born in a briar bush!)

He’ll try his best to accommodate you, even if that means teaching you that yes, you have to shower at least once every two days if you’re to continue living in the House of Lamentation. And no, you cannot hoard food and water in your room. He knows it’s instinct for you at this point, but it causes problems with Beel.

He basically takes over teaching you how to be a regular, functioning member of polite society, kinda like how he did with Satan. (Really, he thought he’d never see the day where the Devildom was considered part of polite society, but after seeing snippets of the human world through you, he knows that this place is way better than the human world.) He teaches you how to use proper cutlery, how modern plumbing and refrigeration works, and how to solve your problems with words rather than bullets.

Lucifer is also… oddly patient when it comes to you. As much as he hates to admit it, he sees part of himself in you – the part that had just been cast out of the Celestial Realm, the part that took months to adjust to the world of the Devildom. He knows what it’s like to be subjected to new and confusing ideals – but instead of just a completely different way of life, you’re introduced to the same on top of an legit, organized education system that you’ve never encountered before.

And if that trigger finger of yours ever gets itchy, he’ll take you to go hunting. He’s inexperienced when it comes to hunting with guns instead of claws, but this is the only time he’ll set his pride aside, sit back, and learn. What better hunter to learn from than someone who’s hunted everything, from mutated creatures to fellow man?

If you ever take him to the human world, prepare for him to be silent and observant. He’ll be that way for a while, just looking over the rolling hills and plains that were once green, killed and turned brown by radiation. Then, slowly, softly, unsure if he’s speaking to himself, you, or his Father: “What a splendid world you ruined…”

-> MAMMON

When Mammon comes into the Student Council Room (because he was running late, as per usual) to find you, gun holstered but hackles still raised, his first instinct is to get the fuck out. He’s been in situations like these before, and he knows when to bounce.

But, of course, he’s still assigned as your guardian even though you clearly don’t need one. He thinks that your guns and knives are enough to deter any demon, honest! (Even though that doesn’t deter him from trying to pick your pocket. What really deters him is when you catch his wrist and hit him with the most threatening glare he’s ever seen on a human. Jeez, you honestly look like you’re about to clean his clock…!)

But still, since the Great Mammon was assigned as your guard, he’ll stick around. He doesn’t really mind, because you’re kinda cool anyways – not that he’ll ever say it to your face. But really, with the kinda armor that you’re wearing, plus the grime of the wasteland that doesn’t go away no matter how many times you wash… you’ve got a unique style, and that’s all he has to say, okay? If you really want, he guesses he can hook you up with a modeling gig – but only if you’re with him! Uh – only because he wants to make himself look better in comparison, y’know?

Yeah, even with someone from the wasteland, he’s still absolutely head over heels in puppy love. He’ll show you stuff he got from the Old World (as in, the pre-war human world) because, as much as he denies and deflects, he wants you to have some sense of normalcy. A place that isn’t filled with raiders and ghouls and slavers and someone trying to kill you at every other turn. He’s nice like that.

But he still really wants to know what the New World is like! You can’t get those Old World Blues if he’s just as enthusiastic about New World Hope, right? He asks about your weapons (and takes the spent bullet casings from your guns because they’re shiny), your occupation, your lifestyle – everything, honestly. He wants to know about your family – assuming they’re still alive – and your friends – again, assuming the same. He’s eager to know as much as you’re willing to share, even the more gruesome things you’ve seen or experienced.

He also wants to know about what… ahem, what affection is like. Surely you can’t trust easily when people are willing to kill one another over a sack of rotten vegetables, right? So he’ll be gracious and allow you to playfight and get rough with him, since that’s your weird human way of showing affection! What do you mean that’s not – that’s not how humans show affection now? Humans show affection in the New World the same way they did in the Old World? Well, he just assumed because you hadn’t been showering the Great Mammon in praises and loving touches and – ugh! Just drop it, okay?

Yes, he assumes a lot, mostly based on the apocalypse movies he’s seen. Unless you actually have a sit-down with him and talk about what life is really like in the wasteland, he’ll ride on these weird assumptions. Assumptions like the existence of radiation-riddled zombies, super-mutants and their variants, and other beings that would otherwise be labeled as supranatural if not for the complex and long-winded explanations Mammon comes up with.

If you ever take him to the human world, he’d be delighted to see what remains of Las Vegas – or is it called New Vegas now? Who cares! He’s all-too-excited to bust out whatever human world money he has and get those dice rolling! Sure, he knows that the deck is stacked and the dice are weighted and the games are rigged in every possible way, but it’s about having fun with his human, right? (That’s what he says until he’s forced to fold and cash out. Then it’s “no fun anyway,” and “a waste of time,” and he’s itching to check out the nearby towns and settlements. For something to steal? Hell, probably.)

-> LEVIATHAN

The first thought that crossed Levi’s mind is that you’re obviously cosplaying the main character from It’s a Federal Offense to Mess with the Mail, Man!: Tales of Gunslinging Wastelander Couriers Solving Convoluted Demon Family Drama’s way less popular spinoff, I was Doing Fine Scraping by as a Nomadic Wastelander, but Then I was Transported to Some Strange, New World with Seven Demonic Suitors who are Fighting Over Me as we Speak! Though, if that were the case, where was your convention badge? And that armor doesn’t look fake. It doesn’t really click until he hears the very real sound of you cocking your gun that you’re not playing pretend, nor are you fucking around in any capacity.

He so desperately wants to cement the fact in his mind that you’re a normie, you like doing normie things like cleaning your guns and knives and talking about the politics of the wasteland, which actually reminds him of this game he’s playing and you’d totally love it and –! Oh no. It’s true. You’re cool. Like, really cool. Like, not-a-normie-at-all cool!

Even though you’re not an otaku (and depending on where you’re from and your education, you might’ve never even heard of Japan), Levi will slowly come out of his shell and try to ask you questions about the wasteland. Like Mammon, he has a lot of assumptions based on the games he plays, but they would actually be more accurate. Instead of supranatural things, he thinks about the logistics of the world at large – blame the RPGs he plays.

But, this leads to him thinking he knows all there is to know about your life and how you live it. Depending on your temper, it may lead you to snap at him, telling him that your life isn’t a video game. This isn’t Grognak & the Ruby Ruins. The wasteland is grueling and cruel and unforgiving. You have seen starvation, debauchery, reignited fascism and misled democracy. You have seen people be crucified for not agreeing with the slavers putting them up on the cross. What you’ve lived through isn’t fun. It’s not a fucking game. You can’t respawn if someone gets a lucky hit. You die. And that’s it.

And of course it causes a blow to his ego, reinforcing the idea that he’s just a “yucky otaku” or some shit like that. You have to reassure him that you have nothing against him personally, it’s just that he was being kinda patronizing and acting as if he’d lived in the wasteland all his life instead of you. After some time alone to sulk, he eventually comes back around and realizes that you’re right, and that you’re really cool, and he wants to be friends with you, so after that brief period he apologizes.

Good luck trying to drag him to the human world! Levi’s a shut-in, and much prefers experiencing the wasteland through video games than real life. Though if you’re bound and determined, call him up on whatever the equivalent of facetime is on your DDD and talk him through what you’re doing while in the human world, even if you’re just walking along an abandoned highway. He really appreciates your effort and might even work up the confidence to travel the wasteland with you, but sticks to walking the desolate wastes as opposed to going into towns and… ugh, socializing.

-> SATAN

Satan immediately wants to laugh in Lucifer’s face because he fucked up so immensely. Seriously, how could you not know a nuclear war happened? (This is ignoring the fact that he didn’t know, either. He just thought that humans haven’t put out anything worth reading in a little while. He’s a demon, so two hundred years is… not a significant amount of time for him.)

He’s a hardcore nerd, so he wants to pick your brain about the politics, the logistics – everything about the wasteland. He’s kinda insensitive about it in the beginning, but will eventually turn and not treat the deaths of people close to you like a plot point in a book. He’s unashamed about it, too, and will ask you as soon as the question pops into his mind, lest he forgets it. This leads to weird topics of conversation over dinner, all spurred on by his question of “How many people would you say an average person has killed? Assuming they’re competent enough to kill, of course.”

Your weapons are another point of interest for him. Obviously big gun manufacturers aren’t around anymore, so where do you get your guns? Are there modifications on them? Are the mods homemade, or do you get them from a designated seller? Does the seller need a license, or is it a free-for-all? If it’s a free-for-all, how do you know the quality of the mods they’re selling? And other exhaustive lists of questions that leave you wishing that Mammon would just burst through the door with another stupid money-making scheme on the tip of his tongue.

He knows how overwhelming school can be, and organized education in the wasteland is sparse to none, so he takes up the title of being your tutor. You’re obviously frustrated with this new thing you don’t have a choice but to partake in, and Satan can sympathize. You’ve never even studied in your life, so he tries his best with trying out different studying techniques to help you form healthy habits that promote a healthy school-life balance.

If you ever take him to the human world, he’ll be elated. Not because of your trust in him to bring him to the wasteland, but because he can actually do a case study on humans! Not on anything in particular, he’s just curious. He takes soil and water samples to test the levels of residual radiation, talks with locals – both in small settlements and more populated areas – about their life experiences, their political opinions, their religious beliefs… basically everything under the sun, really. He comes back with a new appreciation for humans and a few books that have been published in the New World by doctors and the like.

-> ASMODEUS

Ew… what sewer did you crawl out of? Asmo respects people’s kinks and lifestyles and knows that someone’s yuck is someone else’s yum, but he holds the firm belief that it shouldn’t impact other people. And that blood on your boots and the… whatever that’s on your armor is seriously grossing him out. (Though the drop knife strap that’s hugging your thigh is really doing something for him. But that doesn’t make up for the fact you haven’t bathed in a week.)

At first, he distances himself a little because you distance yourself. You don’t want to be judged for something that’s considered normal in the human world. Purified water is a precious commodity, and people don’t want to waste it showering when they could be drinking it. A dip in the river – yes, the ones with the sediment and the radiation and the mutated fish – suffices for most.

Though after a while, he decides that it’s high time he’s bonded with the human that’s living under the same roof as him. Maybe you just need a makeover, then you’ll unleash your full potential as a scarred, gunslinging wastelander hottie? Some demons are into that.

So, with little to no warning, he decided it’s time for a shopping spree. Even though you’re uncomfortable wearing the “high fashion” that’s at Majolish (because it provides literally no protection, armor-wise), he’s able to compromise by getting you some loungewear that you won’t be going out in anyway. While you’re out with him, he drags you to a shop that sells soaps, perfumes, and the like. You’re obviously not used to things that smell good and it’s obviously overstimulating, so Asmo just picks some of his favorites and gets you out before you have a scent-induced breakdown.

Once you’re back at the House of Lamentation, he drops all the shopping bags in your room and drags you to his – it’s time for a makeover, because you’re in dire need of one! He gives you a nice manicure (and adds some nail polish if you’re okay with that) and breaks out the “Doctor Asmo” title to diagnose what kind of skin routine would work for you. If you take issue with the scars you’ve accumulated throughout your life in the wastes, he tries many gels and creams to heal the tissue and reduce the starkness of the scars (even if he thinks that it’s kinda futile because the scars have existed for so long or have been exposed to the sun too much).

Honestly, Asmo cringes at the thought of going to the human world after having you describe it to him. Even the slightest dosage of radiation that’s above the regular background levels can be really detrimental to your skin, and he doesn’t want to risk radiation poisoning – even at a minor level! Raiders can’t be stopped by his beauty alone, and he doesn’t want to chip his acrylics while handling a gun. Instead, he’ll get the human world in little doses through you.

-> BEELZEBUB

Not to sound rude, but when you first arrived, you smelled far too rank for Beel to eat. Yeah, he’s eaten inedible things before, but he knows when to suppress his hunger because eating something rancid will hurt more than it’ll help. But don’t worry, after you freshen up and bum some clothes off Mammon (because you didn’t bring any other outfit – obviously), Beel’s appetite is back! Good for you…?

He’s actually really excited to sample some New World food when it’s your turn to cook dinner. Even if you tell him it’s nothing to write home about, he’ll eagerly wait at the kitchen island, not-so-subtly sneaking tastes here and there while you cook. He’s not deterred by the weirder-sounding and even-weirder-looking foods like squirrel stew and coyote steak. If anything, that just makes him more excited!

If Mammon’s not attached to your hip while you’re walking the halls of RAD (and surely yapping your ear off all the while), Beel’s there. He mostly sticks around to see what snacks you can conjure up from things he never thought of eating before, like when you plucked a bug out of the air that was flying around the courtyard and snapped its head off before eating it. He stared at you for a second, just enough for you to start to fluster and get defensive, before doing the same. Protein is protein, after all.

He also wants to introduce you to fangol! From what you’ve shared, he’s deduced that sports aren’t really a thing in the wasteland – you can’t waste your energy playing when you need it for your continued survival. But you’ve got a lot of energy from being cooped up in the House of Lamentation, so he can help you in a way that benefits both you and Beel: you get rid of your excess energy, and he gets to practice. Practice with someone who’s very inexperienced, yes, but still – it’s practice!

And if you ever itch to get a hint of your old wanderer lifestyle back, he’s all-too-happy to take you on a hike or to go camping with you. Even if it’s purely on a whim with no preparation whatsoever, he’ll grab whatever he can carry from the fridge, stuff it in a backpack, and, after sending a text to Lucifer detailing where you and he are heading, be ready at the front door, all within ten minutes. The food he brought won’t be enough, surely, but he can strip the leaves off a tree like an elephant if needed.

If you ever take him to the human world, make sure to pack ample food for him because, if pushed, he will strip the nearby towns and settlements of their food supply that was meant to last the next three months. Yes, he’ll pay them for the food, but still – it’s a shock for the wastelanders to see this towering figure push a bunch of money in their hands without even counting it and rattling off what he wants like he’s ordering at a restaurant.

-> BELPHEGOR

He’s in the attic and a wastelander like you has enough common sense to not trust him. Good ending he stays locked in the attic forever lol goodbye twat

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cherrieflavouredheadcanons · 1 year

Text

Oh memories

Getting sent back in time hurts even more if the person you love has no memories of you, yet you remember everything.

Warnings: Emotional hurt, No comfort, crying, you basically go through your phone and remember sweet moments with your boyfriend you can’t have anymore.

Auhtors note: So as Satan is my favourite character, and Nightbringer is making me sad with some of the moments. I decided how to better cope that than with writing a small one shot. Also english is not my first language nor have I written for Obey me before but I hope you all enjoy this anyway!

You were lying in your bed in Cacytus hall, wide awake during the middle of the night scrolling through your camera roll.

It held pictures that now were more dear to you than ever before.

Whenever night came your thoughts were flooded with memories of the past, or rather the future, the time which you are originally from.

Solomon did his best to distract you during the evenings the two of you spend together.

He often offered you that he would take over the cooking so you could enjoy the evening after a stressful day of being a demon babysitter, luckily you always convinced him to either let yourself cook or to just order food, him still not catching onto the fact that you are doing everything in your power to hinder him from cooking.

The small smile that had begun to form on your face at that thought quickly fell as you scrolled to the next photo on your phone. It was a candid shot Asmo had taken of you and Satan as you were cuddling in the blondes room.

He had one arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to him, a book in his other hand, though his grip on it was loose as he had fallen asleep along with you. His head was resting on yours, a content smile on both of your faces.

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you quickly scrolled further, though that only made it worse.

It was a selfie you and Satan took together, both of you had fake cat ears on your heads. You were smiling brightly in the camera, while he looked at you with a look on his face as if you had hung the stars upon the night sky.

Scrolling one more time, the photo now was one you took of him. He was gently holding a cat in his arms, cooing at the small ball of fur. You still remembered this day well. The two of you went to a cat cafe, and basically fell in love with a small black and white kitten that had a black nose. It was the one Satan was holding in the picture. It was so cute both of you couldn't help but to try and take it to the House of Lamentation with you. Sadly you were caught by Lucifer when your jacket began meowing.

Tears were now streaming down your face you wondered if you and Satan would ever be like this again? Now whenever he looked at anyone he was full of rage and anger, a look you only saw a few times before, and it had never been directed at you ever since the two of you had started dating. Now it was directed at everyone he came across, be it Lucifer, Asmodeus or you.

Of course you understood that he had basically been just born. He was confused and angry about his own existence, afterall he was the manifestation of someone elses emotions.

You weren’t upset or disappointed with him for acting like this towards you, how could you? He only knows this one emotion and can not control it yet, nor does he even know what other emotions felt like.

Though you did wonder, would you really be able to form a pact with him like this, so you could go back to the Satan you knew and called yours?

Would you even be able to get close to Satan like this? You may seem like a demon to everyone else, but you were still just a human. And Solomon never taught you a “Calm a wrath demon down so you can form a pact” spell.

Putting your phone aside you hugged one of your pillows close to your chest.

If you were in the present you’d now be snuggled against Satan as he holds you close and reads to you so you could fall asleep.

Burying your face in the pillow you were holding you began to sob. You missed these moments with Satan so much. You just wanted him to hold you again and tell you everything will be okay and that he is here for you.

You really hoped you would be able to somehow work all this out as fast as you can, so you can stop being a demon attendant and go back to your time, and back to your Satan.

Your hand unconsciously went to rub the place where Satan’s pact mark used to be, somehow the action still can provide you with a certain sense of calm, despite the mark and pact being gone and having to be reforged.

Closing your eyes as you were starting to fall asleep you hoped that at least tonight you wouldn’t have nightmares of failing your task and Satan never loving you again.

Though just like every other night since travelling back in time, you would be bound to have nightmares, only to have to pretend to be fine in the morning when you had to take care of the seven brothers.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me x reader #obey me nightbringer x reader #obey me satan #obey me swd satan #om satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x you #obey me satan x mc #obey me angst #obey me satan angst #satan obey me #satan angst #obey me one shot

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kittievampire · 1 year

Note

So long/odd request but hear me out

Mc and Lucifer are in a sugar-rotting relationship and brothers and undatebles react

Lucifer spoils Mc so much like…mammon gets in trouble he gets hung from the ceiling Mc does the same thing they get away scot-free Satan has been begging for a cat for eons nope! but Mc wants one of course. He gets them tons of expensive gifts and if Mc ever wants something they only have to bat their eyes at him. It's not like Mc is using him though they dot on him a bunch too. And whenever they get in a fight loud moans are followed within a few minutes (if you know what I mean) but feel free to ignore 💙

I was in the middle of class when I read this and I was WHEEZING

I am a firm believer in Lucifer spoiling the MC rotten and leaving his brothers to fend for them damn selves but denying any sort of favoritism

I only did the brothers this time, I hope that's okay 😭😭😭

Sorry this took so fooking long to make 🥲

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Warnings: Very suggestive, jealous bros lmao L

Enjoy.

You and Lucifer had been dating for a few months now. Though, one would think you'd just gotten together with the way the two of you treated eachother. Or maybe that you were newlyweds in your honeymoon phase.

Lucifer treated you like a goddess. There was constant praise and worship, he'd drop everything if you asked, and he'd spoil you rotten with his love. You would return the favor, of course. Every now and then you'd surprise him with a new cursed vinyl, which he'd listen to all night if not spending it with you.

However, the brothers believe that you're getting totally unfair treatment.

Mammon

Baby boy was spending a lot more money than usual

He was playing a new gambling game he'd downloaded on his D.D.D.

When Lucifer got home, he immediately scolded the second-born for a solid 45 minutes

He announced that Mammon was on "lock-down" and wasn't allowed to ask anything of anyone, nor was he allowed to spend money

He was hung from the ceiling

And Goldie was taken away, too

Mammon was pissed the fuck off

So, when he noticed you were spending a lot more money, he did tease you for being greedy

"Oi, human, ain't splurgin' on shopping supposed to be mine and Asmo's thing? Lucifer's gonna be on yer ass if ya spend too much. Just be careful."

He says this and is genuinely a little worried that he'd see you hung from the ceiling as well

Lucifer confronts you about it in front of Mammon

"My Love, may I know why you've been spending so much grimm recently?"

First off, Mammon didn't like how he started that

How come you got that sweet conversation starter?

What he got was, "Mammon, what have you been wasting your money on this time?!"

Though, he still suspected it'd go downhill, and that he'd need to jump in to protect you at some point

"Oh, just some things... I can't tell you what they are, but I promise this is a rare occasion, Luci." You said, gifting him a kiss on his cheek

Lucifer smiled at you. "Alright, as long as you're being responsible, I trust you."

...

WHAT?!

"WHAT?!" Mammon shouted, earning a slight jolt from you and a look of annoyance from Lucifer

"What, Mammon?"

The Avatar of Greed froze. "I-I-! Y-You—" He paused before letting out a small groan

"Nevermind. Forget about it, yeah?"

Leviathan

Snekboi missed roughly a week of school and wasn't attending his online classes

He was grinding this new game he got so he could keep his spot as one of the top players!

He just couldn't afford to take his attention off of his D.D.D. for a second, the price would be too high!

Of course, Levi ended up being scolded by Lucifer

"Your priority must be your studies, Levi, do you intend on dragging Diavolo's name through the mud?"

How Diavolo was relevant was beyond him

But, Levi still had to sit through a lecture

He also got his D.D.D. taken away from him for a week

Not only did he lose top-spot, but he lost a majority of his self-esteem as well

So, he was obviously worried when you started skipping as well

"Uhh, MC, I'm not sure you should stay home today. Lucifer's not too kind to those who slack off."

But, his warnings fell upon deaf ears

You decided to take a few days off, deciding that you just really didn't feel like going to RAD

You woke up with a migraine one day, couldn't get sufficient sleep the other, and you just took another day to catch up on sleep and what work you had

Leviathan actually tried to stop Lucifer when he saw him outside of your room

"Lucifer, maybe they were feeling really bad or something, I don't think punishing them is a good idea, please show mercy! They're just a human!"

"Quit your whining, Levi. Or do you want to be given the Mammon treatment?"

This made Levi yelp and cower behind him, watching as Lucifer knocked on your door

You answered it, and Leviathan bit his nails nervously

"Hey, Luci," You said, greeting him with a small kiss to the cheek

"My Love," He started softly. "Are you feeling alright? You haven't been attending your classes. Is something wrong?" He asked, a hand reaching up to caress your cheek.

Error 404 not found

Leviathan.exe has stopped working

You smile sweetly. "I'm okay, Lucifer, I just really wasn't feeling up for RAD these past couple of days. It's nothing to worry about, promise!" You say, quite enthusiastically.

...

NANI THE FUCK?!

Levi SWORE you were about to get bodied

But, no

Lucifer just smiled, chuckled softly, and left with an "Alright, take care of yourself, Love."

Bullshit

You're fucking hacking

Satan

Satan wanted to bring a cat into the HoL

Lucifer reminded him of how he brought more cats than were allowed and "turned the House of Lamentation into the House of Cats"

Very fucking salty about it, but ultimately got over it (for the most part)

He saw you bring a little feline home and immediately rushed to your side to help you take care of it

It was a stray with a few wounds from other cats

He helped you bandage it and feed it, all the goods

"MC, I must warn you that Lucifer isn't exactly fond of pets... Let alone cats," Satan said, stern gaze meeting yours

You tilted your head in confusion. "Why is that?"

Satan was a bit hesitant to tell you, so he gave you the shortened and sweet version

"We had a bit of a cat problem a while back, he just really doesn't like cats. Dog people, am I right?" He scoffed

"Satan, what did I say about bringing in cats?"

Satan lowkey jumped a bit and turned his head

The fuck did he come from, bro is teleporting or some shit

You immediately hold the kitty close to your arms, looking up at Lucifer with doe eyes

"Luci, I'm sorry! I was the one who took in the cat, but he was hurt! Please, can we just keep it for a little while, at the very least?" You begged, the black cat in your arms meowing at Lucifer

Satan sighed. He was about to tell you that it was no use, that Lucifer couldn't be bought or reasoned with on this topic. That may have been his fault and he was sorry, but there was absolutely no way Lucifer would budge on this-

"Fine."

...

What

Satan sat there dumbfoundedly before the two of you as you continued to converse, trying to process the events that had just taken place

Lucifer said yes

To you

For a cat?

Huh...

He was upset for a mere moment, but then a light bulb went off in his mind

Perhaps he could use this to an advantage

Satan's definitely going to try and get you to be a wild card whenever him and Belphie are pulling pranks on Lucifer

Just so the eldest will be a little more lenient

Now he knew Lucifer's weakspot

He found himself laughing maniacally in his mind as he realized just how much him and Belphegor could do with you as a cushion whenever they'd get in trouble

Asmodeus

"But, Lucifer, all of products in my favorite cosmetic brand are going on sale today! I have to get every single one of them or else I'll be..." Asmodeus gasped

"Trashy!!" He cried out, practically leeching off of Lucifer's arm as he continued to beg

"Asmodeus, no! You and Mammon are both on lockdown for the rest of the month! Now, get off of me!"

Lucifer managed to pry his younger brother off of him and slammed ether door shut to his office, leaving a near-on sobbing Asmodeus in the library

That's when he heard you

"Lucifer, must you always be so rough on your siblings?" He heard you ask, making him gasp and sigh dreamily. "Oh, darling, you always come to my rescue when I need it!" He said, his voice not loud enough to penetrate the door

"MC, I suggest staying out of my family matters. They have nothing to do with you."

Asmodeus could tell from the other side of the door that an argument was likely about to ensue

However, when the two of you started raising your voices, he could also sense some... Arousal?

"Oh!"

"Oh."

It wasn't long before he could hear your moans and whimpers from the other side of the door, lewd slapping noises making him step back a bit

Asmodeus couldn't help but giggle a little

He honestly didn't mind this as much as his brothers did, he found it really entertaining that the two of you endulged in his sin after such a heated argument

Asmodeus approves 👍💖

Beelzebub

Poor baby gets scolded so often for raiding the fridge, especially late at night

He's usually told to go to bed, and that these late-night trips to the fridge aren't good for him, all that

He couldn't help it, it was his sin! That was no fair!

Lucifer ended up putting him on lockdown after 11pm, meaning no trips outside of his room whatsoever

Beelzebub would usually try to get some snacks into his room before that time, but he usually ran out rather quickly and was left with a rumbling stomach

That's when you came in, holding two arm-fulls of snacks

Quietly, you pushed the door closed with your foot

You knew Belphegor was a heavy sleeper, but you still wanted to be quiet anyway, so as not to wake the Avatar of Sloth

You saw the gluttonous ginger perk up when he saw you

"MC?"

You smiled, dropping down the snacks before him

"Lucifer didn't say I couldn't raid the kitchen. I figured you'd be hungry, so I got you some snacks."

Bro bear-hugs you

He lowkey almost breaks your spine with how tight he holds you

"Thank you, MC! Can I call you sister, please? Get married to him quick so I can call you sister!"

You blushed at this comment, chuckling softly

"I'm working on it, I guess," You choked playfully, patting his back

"Beel, I need to breathe."

Not really all too jealous

A bit sad, but he gets over it when you bring him food

Lucifer never says anything about it tho when he finds out you're the one who's causing such a snack shortage

Belphegor

He was constantly scolded for pulling all kinds of pranks on Lucifer

There was that time he threw his D.D.D. in the trash, lit his coat on fire

All harmless things

So, when he catches you attaching a can of whipped cream to... Something in the fridge, he immediately raises a brow at you

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Ahhh, just setting up a little surprise," You chuckled out

At first, he thinks it's for Beelzebub, but Asmodeus had taken him shopping with him earlier with the promise of free food afterward

"For..." Belphie trailed off, hearing footsteps nearing the kitchen

Immediately you close the fridge and take your seat in front of a plate of food you'd made yourself earlier. "Sit down," You whispered to the Avatar of Sloth

As he shuffled to a seat next to you, he realized what you were up to and put a hand over his mouth

Lucifer walked into the kitchen, greeting you and the youngest with a smile and a "Good morning."

You picked up a piece of the pancakes in front of you with a fork, putting it in your mouth and humming to yourself. "Luci? Could you pass me the butter?" You asked softly

Lucifer nodded, turning and opening the fridge

Immediately, whipped cream sprayed all over his face, some falling onto his chest

Belphegor bursted into a fit of laughter, immediately giving you a high-five and wiping a tear from his eye as he clutched his stomach

"Oh, that was good!" He choked out in between laughs

Lucifer turned to look at the youngest, wiping off a large portion of the whipped cream on his face

"Belphegor, did you do this?"

You snickered beside him, looking up at Lucifer

"I thought you'd like a snack, Luci~" You hummed out, giggling softly

Belphegor mentally prepared himself for a 45 minute lecture

There was a pause, making him shift a bit in his seat as his laughter died down

Suddenly, Lucifer began to laugh

It started out small

Then, his laughter boomed in the room, bouncing off of the walls

"Huh,"

This confused the fuck out of Belphie

Like, ummmm what

"You've gotten me, MC, well done. I needed that laugh." He said, walking over to you and wiping some whipped cream off of him, putting it on your nose

He dismissed himself, saying he was going to wash this off of him

Belphegor was silent for a moment

"Hm?"

"You get laughter and boops after pranks and I get lectures and scoldings... Favoritism at it's finest. The Anti-Lucifer League could make use of this."

He'd explain more, but he was getting too sleepy

Shit was fun asf to write, thanks for requesting

I hope you enjoyed this, anon!

#obey me mc #obey me #lucifer obey me #obey me hcs #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer hcs #lucifer swd #obey me mc x lucifer #obey me lucifer fluff #obey me fluff

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midnightsunnyday · 2 months

Text

And One Day He'll Be Known As... ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

➠ word count: 1564 ➠ characters: Lucifer/Reader, Lucifer & Reader ➠ cw: none, yet read at your own discretion. ➠ a/n: will there ever be a day I don't write a story about this man? No, not really. Also, not really sure what this is, but I wrote it during lunch break on my phone at work after reading through a "particular book." Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Before the day could even be called day, a light was born in a formless, empty world.

The light had no name, no shape, but it was conscious and very, very hot. In that moment, a great fear overtook it, for the light did not know these feelings it possessed, nor why it was brought forth. It then cried out into the void and from its cries, came many other lights and shapes that spiraled and crashed and split apart. It was then a voice rang out:

“Do not fear, for I am your Father, and all things that come from me are good, and from you, good things have formed."

The light then stilled, knowing that he was not alone here, and saw that these “good things” that formed were called stars and planets. And while the light was still scared, it knew that it was “good” and continued to help make good things.

For many, many, many days, the light sat and watched as the Father worked through all his creation. It saw the void split in two, and learned that the brightness would be called “day” and the darkness “night.” Its home was now above the waters, which sat atop creation, and below it, the land, the sea, and its creatures. The Father would call this little blue ball “Earth,” and was very pleased with it. And while the light did not understand, it found it…so.

Soon after, the light was given a “brother,” and that brother would help lead the Father’s children beyond the firmament. By then, the light was now “he” and given a form that pleased him, with many wings and eyes as red as fire. He even had a name, “light-bearer" and like his sibling, a purpose: to watch over creation as its guides and judges.

One day, the light-bearer stood from above, looking down upon the Earth. Despite the passage of time, there were still many things he did not understand. If all the Father’s things were “good,” then why were some things “not good?” Why did beasts of land eat the smaller beasts? Why did the moths mistake the flame for light? Why did the birds fly themselves to death? And why did humans, who’d been given eternal life, forsake it to wander the wilderness? And these strange beings with horns and wings that stalked the night and preyed upon the humans. Are they a part of the plan? Because of these questions, the light-bearer couldn’t help but ask:

“Why is it all so…flawed?”

From above, his brother--now Michael--heard him and rang out.

“What do you mean, brother?”

“To be given life is a blessing," the light-bearer said. "Yet they do nothing but die and kill things, yet Father still finds them worthy of his creation. Why?”

It was not like one of the Father’s angels to question His creation, yet the light-bearer was not like other angels. He possessed a will far greater than most, and a mouth just as harsh. He was also very beautiful, yet such things did not concern him.

Michael laughed, admiring the way his brother bathed in the light. “An ant learns to find a path over the water when another drowns to cross it. Those things that are flawed give others the knowledge to do better.”

Lucifer pondered his own creation. He himself was created, not born. “So does that mean we have no flaws?”

“The Father did not intend for us to be flawed."

"Yet how do we have the knowledge to do better if we do not learn from our mistakes?"

"We were born righteous,” Michael answered. “And those things born righteous cannot make mistakes, as we already know our path and roles within it.”

“I see.” Lucifer gazed down at the vivid blue. Despite its size, it’d all seemed so boundless, stretching on forever. These creatures, not tied by what is good or not, had been given a choice. To choose one’s path and live with the mistakes within it. Such beings would be flawed, yes, but beyond that…

“I suppose I can see the beauty in it.”

And within him grew a feeling he could not yet explain.

Of course, he did not know it then. But one day the light-bearer would come to know humanity very well. By then, he’d be known by a different name. One that the entire world would know. Not for all the good and light it helped create, but for all the evils that plagued it. A name known only as--

“—Oh, Luuucy!”

Lucifer knew of only one person who’d be polite enough to knock in this house and foolhardy to use such an embarrassing nickname. Admittedly, he found it refreshing.

“I know you can heeeere me!” You sung beyond the door.

Though if not a bit exasperating.

It was only natural that you came to him, as you did with all his brothers. You were kind, to the point of absurdity, yet it was a part of you he found charming. You entered—without answer, he’d add—holding a cup of his favorite tea, a clear means to soften the inevitable interrogation as to why, for the past several days, he hadn’t left his office. His brothers, having known the consequences of doing so, allowed him his peace. Yet you on the other hand, knew nothing of minding one’s own.

"We miss you at the table," your voice was low, biting your cheek as if to consider your next words. “How have you—"

"—I'm fine," Lucifer said, still pretending to scan through his paperwork. His response was simple. Pointed. And by your startled reaction, that should’ve been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

"I figured as much,” you said as you trotted carefully towards his desk. “Mammon said this was "normal" for you." You’d sat the cup beside him. The smell hit him with a bitter, floral odor, brewed extra strong to his liking. Your eyes lightened as you waited to see if he reached for it. He hadn’t. You inched it closer, smiling.

Lucifer removed his glasses, messaging his forehead. “Is there something that you need.”

You hummed as you tilted your head. “Not particularly.”

“So in other words, you’ve come to annoy me.” He sighed. “Wonderful.”

“Don’t think of it as an annoyance.” You plopped down into one of the chairs he kept in front of his desk. “More like helpful company.”

He hardened his gaze, yet your eyes refused to falter. Neither of you spoke, locked in a vicious game of eye-to-eye combat.

“You’re good at this,” you said. “What are you, the eye staring master?”

Lucifer tightened his lips. “I’m not playing a game.”

“That’s not what your face says.”

The grin you held continued to grow, until breaking into a fit of giggles. Without realizing, Lucifer snorted. It was small and he corrected himself immediately after, but it was too late. You’d taken his reaction as an admission of defeat, nodding your head in smug satisfaction for having managed to make the great Lucifer smile for once in his life.

“You’re truly a nuisance,” he said. He could feel his face heating. “A thorn in my side.”

“But I made you laugh, so I can’t be that bad, right?”

They were correct. But he’d never admit it. Not then, at least.

“But seriously, I don’t like seeing you cooped up doing nothing but work without break,” you said. “Maybe you’re used to it, but it’s not healthy. Even for a demon and you know…” You plucked at the skin of your fingers, a nervous tick not helped by your current predicament. “If something is wrong, you shouldn't hold it in. It's better to speak to people you love and trust."

"Oh?" He leaned forward, smiling. "And who might those people be? The ones that I love and trust?"

"Your family. Maybe Lord Diavolo," there was a brief pause, your fingers twiddling themselves together as if trying to solve a puzzle. "Or maybe you'd like...to talk to me?"

"That so? Tell me, which one do you think you’d fall into?”

“Oh.” You sat there, silent, your eyes pleading with the floor to swallow you whole. “Well you know I…it’s uh, you see—“

“—You’re right,” he spoke gently, reaching for his tea. “It would be nice to speak with someone I love and trust. Please, stay. And if you’re still interested in being helpful…” he tossed a stack of folders in front of you.

“Boo, paperwork?”

“Boo, paperwork.” He sipped his tea. Delicious, and admittedly, needed.

You pouted, yet accepted the stack nonetheless. In the silence he could feel your joy, the light dancing from your aura. It shined, almost as bright as they say his own. It’s also why, unlike anyone else that he couldn’t help but…

Well, such words were for another time, but for now…

“Thank you, for helping me,” he said.

A squeal, muffled by a cough. You were never good at hiding your emotions. “I mean, it’s no problem, really! Honestly, what would any of you do without me?”

“What would we indeed?”

How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! Or however said verse went. Yet clearly he wasn’t so low if he was still capable of a love such as this.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer x reader #midnightsunnyday writes

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hyperfixat · 1 year

Text

beelzebub in the main timeline wondering where you went :( he’s so upset when the realization that you’re missing, you’re gone, and no one can find you sinks in he dives into his vice.

he eats and eats, its nothing new, although the rotting tupperwares and ziplocks with your favorites meals lay untouched. beel has taken a hoard of food that he knows you love, growls at anyone who tries to take the (biohazard) stale food away. you’ll be back and he needs to provide for you when you return.

not lucifer nor belphie can sway him to dispose of the food, even as it rots away. he just can’t even if you can’t eat it he needs to have it for you. beel wakes up early in the morning to make what should be your breakfast, holding his ravenous nature aside as he bags it up for your return; he makes you lunch at noon, and dinner at night.

the stench of rotten food follows the sixth born where ever he goes. he just misses the human okay ☹️

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me x reader #beel x reader #obey me beel x reader #nightbringer angst #idk i just love him

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doublekanble · 3 months

Text

sibling

Lucifer-reader (gnc)

platonic

word count: 3.5k

the reason i dont write for women is because i would die doing so, anyway, im celebrating my first non-al fic with sleeping on time.

You have a brother. Not by blood. No. Never. You’re not Adam, nor are you or Lilith, with skin the tone of light ivory and body defined by the dust of earth and dirt. You two are not bound by blood, nor are you bound by the particles that encapsulate the vast universe beyond the haven you both resides in. Not even to the vessels you were born into, or the similar structure of your souls, the basis for all angels. None of those means will ever be enough to define the bond you have.

(“Hey! Over here!” He laugh and called out your name, you laugh and follow his voice.)

Lucifer is a dreamer, an idealist and a mischievous soul. All in heaven knows of his name, and almost all of them have less than beautiful word about the tiny Archangel. Looked down and frowned upon, Lucifer’s jokes and games are less than entertainment to most. No matter how many duty he filled out by hands, they will never look at him as anything more than a simple trouble-maker (let alone the fact the duty itself is utterly useless in your eyes, but you digressed).

His voice too loud, too grating on one’s ears. His jokes too immature and too brazen to another. His handwritten letters crinkled at the corner, his smiles too bright and wide. His footstep too loud, his eating too messy, his stand too proud and his ideals too dangerous and downright blasphemous.

At some point, your brother’s face, molded, heated, sculpted and paint by Father’s hands himself, once so bright and perfect, one that supposed to never aged, aged.

(He pulls you by the wrist and guide you both from Heaven, down and down to the Garden itself. Lucifer is the fastest angel (Archangel) you know, but you also know he like flying by your side, so you pull yourself forward a bit and take your time despite your own circumstance.

“What are you trying to show me brother?” you smile, pretending to be exasperated by his antics. “We’ve already seen the four corners of this endless place. What ever is there to be excited about?”

“Oh-ho-ho. You’ll see when we get there~!” )

In everyone else’s eyes, your brother is nothing but a blight at worst, an annoyance at best. But to you, he’s your older brother, who took you by the hand and shows you magic tricks and sing silly songs to you when you first met; determined to distract you from your crooked left wing bleeding gold (that too, he fixed for you). Ever since then, the once-dutiful you spent your free days floating by his side, and before anyone can say anything about it, you two were inseparable.

If someone finds you by a tree somewhere, they would find you with a lyre in your lap, strumming away a tune you knew by heart while your brother sang a song with no rhythm. If they were to find him by a once-white wall, they’ll find that you’re right there with him holding paint and brushes in your hand as he drew crude and unrecognized shapes. He walks and you follow. Where you can find one, it’ll never be without the other.

Those songs, the makeshift pieces of art, your good papers that he kept stealing and his paint that always stained the corner of each and every single one of your robes. Those are the happiest days you have and will ever live in your eternal life.

“Is this the surprise...?” You look around the breathtaking space you’re standing in, trying to sound as casual as you can while Lucifer blanched and turns from one end to the other. Sunlight streaming through the leaves as distant chirps of birds reverberate. Heaven is beautiful, but Eden is perfect. If only you can spend more time here right now, but you need to be back by Sera’s side in thirty minutes, like it or not. “I mean, this is always a welcoming sight, but-“

“Wait please hold on! This was NOT supposed to play out like this, she should’ve been here- Imeanuhhhhh nothing um I was not supposed to say that-“ he groaned and run his free hand over his face. “Just- Lemme go look for her- you hold on right there I promised it won’t be long I’ll-”

Patting the hand that was still holding onto your wrist gently, you smile. “Luci, it’s no problem to me, really.” It is, but you’re not going to let him know, “Whatever it is you want to show me, it’ll be perfect. You just tripped a little, that’s-oof!”

He all but crushed you in his arms, six wings encasing you in a hug so tight, you feel like being wedged in between the crust of the earth and the sea. But you still try to pat his back before he pulls away and fly off with a quick “Just a sec!” and then you’re left alone, still processing whatever he was saying. Whoever this “she” can be, you trusted Lucifer, if only he could be a bit faster. You pull a watch from your right front pocket and flip its casing open.

He have twenty-five minutes, you sigh, whatever the new surprise maybe, it’s surely giving him a run for his life. Just then, a bird suddenly came into view, it’s beautiful long feathers dance in the air as it pranced over to you, graceful and poised.

“Hello there friend…What a delightful little thing like you doing here?” lowering onto your knees, you hastily shove your watch back into its place and open your arms to the bird. The thing settled in your embrace, right at home as you rock it back and forth and sing it’s praises. “Such a friendly thing…”

He have about eighteen minutes to show you whatever he wants to. You really hope you can go back soon. But as you’re recounting a story to the bird about a problem the Elders were fighting over, some silly dispute about making another human for one of the first, you hear a faraway voice calling your name. Quickly, he closed the distance.

“There you are!” looking beyond disheveled, your brother re-emerges behind a bush at the twelve-minute mark – smiles akin to the sun as he collected his breath, “Ok, so before we do this, you’ll need to promise me something first. You have to keep this a secret. For now. I think…” you raised an eyebrow as you swept his hair back into place, he sputtered “-It’s not anything bad! I swear! Butttt I’m pretty sure we’ll get intotroubleifanyoneelsefoundoutsoplease-“

“Brother, I promise.” You laugh, bouncing the bird a bit, you hope whoever it is, they’ll get along well. “Now, what was it you wanted to show me so badly you pulled me from lunch break and then came back to me looking like this?”

He hissed with a slightly embarrassed smile, but quickly recovered. As he straighten up, Lucifer waves his hand over the tree next to the bush he just came from, calling out to it in a tone you’ve never heard from him before, calling out to her. The bird suddenly stir in your arms as it fling itself to the sky and pulled your attention from them, your eyes following the bird in dismayed. And when you turn back, you feel the air leaving your lungs as you stare at the most beautiful person you’ll ever see.

“Ta-da! Surprise! Wha-za!” Lucifer struck several ridiculous poses as she laugh gently, covering her mouth. But her attention quickly turns back to you, who stand frozen like a new born fawn with mouth half open. When she smile at you, you immediately understand just why Lilith the human was so beloved by Father despite her rebellious attitude, and wondered if Adam also is as breath-taking as her.

“…”

“Um, Heaven to you? You there~?” He knows what’s going on in your head. You know he knows, so you hit his arm and almost growl at him for the first time.

“Hello there. You must be Lucifer’s sibling.” Her voice like the wind. Her eyes the color of light violet. You immediately recalled the beautiful Chrysanthemums you took from the garden some days back, petals just as lovely, if not less, than hers.

“…Hi…” you breathe, and then jolted back awake. “I mean- uh- greetings. Miss Lilith. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.”

Her expression change just a bit, and you kick yourself down for it. “Please don’t be so courteous. Lilith is fine!” She walks forward and held onto your hands; you feel faint. “Lucifer told me so much about you. I’m glad I finally get to put a face to the name.”

“I hoped I’m fitted to your expectations, miss-“ she glares at you, you’re convinced the beating of your own heart weakened your resolve. “Lilith. Lilith.”

At this, she gives you a pleasant smile. “That would take time for me to know, now wouldn’t it?”

Lilith was merciful enough to let go of your right hand as she calls to Lucifer, who was smiling with utter glee in his eyes. But you can’t properly register anything at the time, completely defenseless and left to the mercy of Lilith as your brother ignores your bewitched state. You wondered just why does people also look down on Lilith. Everything about her screams utter beauty and grace. That is, until you came to and realizing they were both grinning at each other.

Lilith expression, though still fair and utterly lovely, was foreign to you. Your brother’s, however, help you realizing there’s no way in Father’s name you can go back to Sera with the time you have left.

Only ever seeing her from afar, you now find yourself drawn to her in the same way your brother was. As beauty is to the beholder, you would be more than glad to say that Lilith is the pinnacle of beauty. No, not just that, she must be the definition.

“-I don’t know how long I can hold this-“

“You’ll be fine Luci~” he groaned as Lilith turns to you and whispered “How long did you say he can stay like that for?”

You know he can hear you both despite her effort, so you look at him in the eyes and pretend to ponders.

“Hm~ At least two hours is needed for me to made the paint-“ you can do it in seconds if you choose to, “and my hands are so unsteady…” you can draw a circle, not perfect, but you don’t need perfection in your work, until today that is, “So… my dearest, strongest, most wonderful and amazing brother can stay like that until we’re done.”

She pulls you into her arms, laughing and aggreging with you as Lucifer seethes and curse under his breath. It wouldn’t take as long as he dreaded, he gives up half way through and opted to show you two some trick he learned instead. But it certainly was enough for him to weaponized it for the next 6 days. Lilith distracted you two from your sibling rivalry all the while.

You would’ve love to gawk and hand-pick each and every trait she have to write songs and poems about, but were you to truly do that, you’ll have to pick all of dear Lilith apart. Father’s skills and love truly shines through her appearance in every way. And yet, so distinctly, she’s not the same as everything else Father made.

As you observed the way Lilith would dance with Lucifer, you realized just how similar their souls are, despite being made from different molds and materials. Lilith brough to Lucifer a certain charm, a place for him to hang about as he falls. Lucifer in turns, brought a wave of chaos to her, one that she handled with utter grace and would indulge in. Her towering figure holding onto him as she brings him from the river they fell into, her lyre playing the oddest of tunes that somehow compliments his terrible singing. The faces he painted on the rocks in the garden are followed right behind with her own piece of art, just as terrible as his and just as lovely. All a lovely and gentle and beloved kind of love, but one where you suddenly feels like the garden isn’t a place for you anymore, despite them always calling your name and laughing with you.

And in the midst of it, you soon realized you can’t find the trace of paint handmade by your brother on your robes anymore, and none of your good papers ever disappeared with a mischievous grin hiding behind it. But as always, you followed after him when he offers his hand. And then one day Sera gives you an off-handed praise about finally distancing yourself from Lucifer, and suddenly, it hit you that it’s been a month since he draped himself across your desk and pull you away to play some games he came up with that day. Time passes quickly for those who do not live, and it passed by even quicker for dreamers living in happy days.

Unbecoming of yourself, you would fallen ill for three days and two night, not the kind where you would lie in bed and barely move. It’s the kind where you move with a fervor, unable to think for anything except from tearing everything in your room open and breaking every other thing that can’t be torn. Immortal beings cannot handled the concept of non-eternal love. It hurts all the more that the two souls you want to direct this anger at is the two you will readily die for. You grappled with the possibility of feeling betrayed and abandoned by people who never leave in the first place by punching at the walls until your knuckles tore open to the bones. How do you mourn people who never die. You do not know. So for those three days and two nights, you learned how to.

But jealousy is an unsightly trait of an angel, and honestly is applauded. So afterward, you turn to Sera and asked her for guidance, seeking the inner peace and order she and the Elders have been preaching all this time before you can let yourself find out what happened to angels who let the unsightly takes them. So that you wouldn’t ever know what happened to angels who let the unsightly into their room, yours was cleaned of all the broken and torn.

But forever, your heart still turned towards your older brother and his new love. Every time you open your eyes after a restful sleep, your thoughts are filled with them. And despite Sera’s advices, you would still seek them out just to listen to their songs, and as they dance across the Garden, you learned and made peace with simply watching on. Soon, a small seed, like that of an apple tree was planted in your heart and it grows every time they smile, with or without you, and slowly you find in you a sense of tranquility. Because by Lilith side, your brother’s once tired visage soon grow a new life, one better than you can ever hope to give him. And by Lucifer side, she glows with something you can’t ever put a finger on, as if being born anew every moment. So one day, you held onto her hand while Lucifer flies off to catch a duck by the pond.

“Are you happy by Lucifer’s side?”

Her graceful and sharp expression broke with a smile, so bright and gentle, just like your brother.

“As happy as I can ever be.”

Your own face, reflecting in her light violet eyes, akin to beautiful blooming Chrysanthemums, is one filled to the brim with mirth. You would embrace her in your arms for the last time as you bid the two goodbye and leave. From then on, you forbid yourself from ever entering Eden, even as your brother would beg you at times. You only send Lilith gifts and letters you wrote by hand, afraid of encroaching onto their garden, it’s no longer a space that belongs to you.

Far until the day you woke up and wondering what you’ll have for dessert. It hits you that life have returns to its state of normalcy, one where you think about Lilith and Lucifer having fun and one where you hoped they're laughing as loud as they can; for Lucifer is your dearest older brother, and Lilith your beloved older sister, not bounded by blood, not tied by soul. You hope he can get Lilith and himself out of Heaven’s grasp one day. Such a rigid place can never be enough for them.

Their yelling was so, so loud. Half of you hope to be anywhere else at all, and the other half hope you can go back to being a speck of dust in the galaxy. But you’re standing in the court of the Elders as they fought over your life, unable to wish and pray yourself away from here (it’s unbecoming for an angel to wish) and unable to process a single word they’re saying as you poured over the details.

(“Surely it knows! You can’t see it by anyone else’s side except from him!” “You’re the closest to that vile snake! You must’ve plotted together with him?!”

“Throw it down too! We can’t risk another one!”)

Your eyes flitting across the documents and fucking transcripts that was made over the days of the event and what happened after. Although their every motion finally written in clear ink, you can’t help but focus on one thing.

They took from the apple tree and dare gave it to Eve, Adam’s new bride. More-or-less tricking her and causing the downfall of humanity, the papers all-but stated.

(“I begged of you, they surely do not. For all this time, they have been by my side! For the past week, they haven’t even saw him!”

“How are you so sure?!”

“Are you saying I’m blind, Elder?”

“How dare you talk back! You wretched-“

A hand reach out, silencing the court. A single Elder stand with their eyes watching your hunched form. You were a particularly hard-working angel, despite your association and your actions at time.)

It was unanimously agreed that Lucifer and Lilith will be cast down to Hell, a palace made of misery just for them. Their thought crimes might've turned to outright blasphemy, but there is mercy in the arms of Father. Eve’s fate however, remained unknown. They’ll have a court session about her tomorrow, to be entice or to let yourself be enticed, a rock and a hard place. There’s talk and whispers in the walls, of casting her to the same fate as your brother and his lover the moment her soul leave her newly-made body. Your grief is with Lucifer and Lilith, fully aware of the real punishment.

(“Then will you, Oh Honored Seraphim, swear with your eternal life that this one won’t fall like he did?”)

Being able to escaped Heaven and the judging eyes of others would’ve been a dream for them. Somewhere where white and black rules and golden rigid structures won’t tie down their dreams of freedom and love. What better ways to break them than to let them watch the consequences of their blasted dreams.

“…”

She held onto your hand, as you finally collapsed on the stand and weep openly for all to see. They turn and discussed amongst themselves as you feel your breath gets taken away all over again.

“Honored Seraphim?”

“I swear to our Father, and to my eternal life.”

Sera grips on you is strong and firm even as she leads you from the court and back to your room, all cozy and warm and so unlike your burning heart and freezing body. She sat on your bed and held onto your shivering form, wide-eye and as terrified as the day you were born.

“From now on, their eyes are on you.”

You catches the glimpse on her face, miserable and heavy, masked behind a tough front. You wondered whether she knew this would’ve happened. You wondered if she’s doubting herself for trusting you. Your life now tied to her hand.

“From now on, you have no brother. You must stay strong.”

From now on, you both have no sibling. As you cry yourself into the dark, you briefly remembers Lilith gentle hand holding onto yours when you doze off, Lucifer sing a lullaby you can’t recalled, his voice normal and lovely. Now so far away from them, you wondered if there’s any meaning at all to dreams.

You once had a brother and a sister, not by blood, if only you could be bound to them by blood. Unlike the blessed humans, your regrets and sorrow cannot end in a single night and nothing in the world can ever take your ghastly form away. Your soul is made by hand, plucked from the infinite of the world; body melts in mold, sculpted from stardust instead of dirt. If only you too, were made of dirt. Instead, you now watch over the misshapen sculpted clays and dirt that made it to the pearly gates and take care of them as best you could. Jealousy is unbecoming of an angel, but you no longer care about knowing what happened to the one that fell.

You once had a brother and a sister, once. And ever since you haven’t, you’ve been dutifully and restlessly waiting until they can come back home.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #luficer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #x reader #hazbin hotel oneshot #tumblr rlllly hates the banner on this one for some reason

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loversofthegrave · 5 months

Text

teenage sammy grappling with his intolerable attachment to his big brother one shot<3

1998, South Carolina

Summer hits full on like a hammer, shrivelling the last spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. John has them situated this time in South Carolina in the middle of a buttfuck nowhere trailer park. Sam huffs out a whoosh wafting a strand of his shaggy, greasy hair and scuffs his knock-off beat up converse into the dry dirt, the path leading up into their new home for the next week or two.

John recites his customary speech, Dean nods, ‘Yes sir’ as Dean always does. He’s John more often than dad these days. John gave Sam a name when he was born then left, like a background actor in a movie, cut from the film roll. The rumble of the impala and he’s gone.

Spider plants hang from pots on the wide trailer porch. Chipped ceramic ornaments of butterflies and lizards were placed outside. Inside, the shabby floral wallpaper and checkered armchair. The tattered cotton curtains blowing gently, and the cross hung on the wall, wonky. It was like a polaroid from the 70s, all orange hues and clashing patterns.

“What a dump,” he said gritting his teeth.

“It’s not so bad,” Dean shrugs “Kinda cozy,”

Dean’s eyes like hawks observing their new home, finding quick exits, salting the windows and doors. Safety first, look out for Sammy, like the good toy solider that he is.

Sam knows Dean can’t help it, the urgency, the attentiveness, to keep safe, guard his little brother. Sam would be lying if he said he wouldn’t want it any other way, he hopes it’s a two-way street.

Truth is, being in each other's pocket is all they’ve ever known. Dean is Sam’s brother as much as he is his only friend, his father, his mother, all rolled into one. Dean's hands being a caress and a fumbling worry of a mother’s. Dean who changed Sam’s diapers, who soothed teething pains with nimble fingers, tender rocking's and forgiving scoldings. It was all him, not a woman with satin blonde hair and porcelain skin nor the man with the grief-stricken furrowed brows and whiskey sighs. No, it was the kid with the goofy grin and the shoulders weighed down heavy with more liability than a kid should ever know, now turned leather jackets and calloused hands, felon fingers, summers caress dotted upon the bridge of a nose. Summer has always been extra generous to him, he thought, kind of face that weighs heavy on a teenage boys heart.

Looking at Dean is like hallucinating like looking through the lenses of kaleidoscope, soft orange and pink hues from the sun dipping into the horizon of the late summer dusk framing his head like an angel but an angel in the flames. An angel that could be Gabriel but an angel that could be Lucifer too, like he would readily delve into the deep, dark hell as he would fly up to the lofty, illuminated places. And Dean would for Sam.

Dean was Sam’s first everything, and it’s no surprise Sam would want that forevermore.

Sam can’t help it, this craving, it’s insatiable, like an itch irritating him under new stretched teenage skin. If he itches and itches, scratches with blunt anxious bitten nails until he draws blood. But the blood he revels in, the curving, cutting and slaughtering himself to fit into the groove of Dean’s heart, he would do anything, and he knows Dean would do the same but not in the ways Sam yearns for. Sam knows, he knows it’s twisted, he knew as soon as he was enrolled in school and how not everyone else feels that way about brothers. But he doesn’t care, not when Dean is the only grace he was given in his world of destruction and ruin, his pure drop in an ocean of chaos. Damn it if the lord doesn’t forgive him, heaven and hell are just words to a hopeless boy like Sam. When his brother looks at him, he decides to wage holy war.

But Dean doesn’t know, not really, he knows Sam loves him but no more, no less, too frightful Sam would scare him fiercely, that he would leave Sam here, loose his grace, and what is Sam without his grace? Just an empty vessel, an angel damned from heaven, forever. Think he’s sick, corrupt, disgusting. Only Sam can be the one to know this about himself, swallow the key if he must. He tries his best to shelter away these parts from Dean, distancing ever so slightly, it just makes the craving worst, he thinks, withdrawal.

So, he lives with Dean, in his shadow. Watches him, envies him, wants to be him, wants to be with him, under him. Watches him waltzing around the kitchen with sultry hips after this week's easy fuck. Probably some white trash bimbo Sam thinks harshly, doesn’t know what it truly means to have him, a boy, a man, like Dean. He goes for anything with legs and a mouth in a 1-mile radius, puts it out to anything, anyone but Sam.

“You stink Dean,” Sam mumbles under his breath

“That’s the smell of champions Sammy” Dean grins, easy and careless, throwing a wink over his shoulder. Sam shoots daggers into his back.

This is their dance, Dad goes on a hunt for a couple of weeks, Dean and Sam are holed up in a shack and they pretend that this is their normal, habit, but it’s not, they we’re and forever born in motion. Dean enrols Sam into the local (another) high school, Dean gets a short-term job working with his hands to hold them over until Dad gets back, this time at the garage. They make small talk with strangers when necessarily and act according to their roles, relocates the suspicious eyes on Sam’s stitched up hand me down t-shirts and Deans violet blooming bruises from training and hunts, keeps social services off their back. But they fit in OK around this truckers town so Sam holds it rigid, this vexation, lewdness, this jealousy brimming. Puberty is fucked, Sam likes to blame it on that.

It’s Friday, the shutters of the trailer are open and wide. Sam’s in makeshift shorts that were once jeans that he cut at the knees one town ago. The radio is static, and The Mama’s & The Papa’s is being carried through the thick-cut air, ‘you've got everything I need, and nobody can please like you, you baby and who believes that my wildest dreams and my craziest schemes will come true?’

Sam’s growth spurt mixed with food stamp fed spindly legs are propped up on the coffee table barefoot, toes wiggling, as he shovels spoonfuls of store brand cornflake knock offs in his mouth. Dean comes in wafting of oil and summer sweat after being outside tinkering with the ford pick-up truck Dad sorted out with a local hunter before he briskly left. He slaps the bottom of Sam’s foot with his greasy rag. Sam grunts.

"Up and at 'em or you're gonna be late" Dean lectures, parenting.

Sam rucks on an old 1975 Black Sabbath tour shirt that used to be Dean's that used to be Dads, now faded grey and bobbling. Pokes his feet into socks with his right toe sticking out of the hole, laces up his shoes and climbs into the passenger seat of the pick-up. Dean drops Sam off at the Pine Springs High and told him he'd pick him up, told him to ‘give ‘em hell’.

Pine Springs High was full of scraggy kids, Beavis and Butt-head boys, girls busty and leggy. Sam befriends one friend, a skinny freckled boy with thick rimmed glasses. His name is Davey. They were sat next to each other in science, dissecting a frog. Sam figures cutting open this frog is harder than the ghouls they slaughter. What did this frog ever do to anyone? Davey was informing Sam on the anatomy, pointed out the chambers of the heart, the ventricle. He seemed interested in trying to impress Sam with how smart he was. "You know a lot," stated Sam.

He smiled. He was a boy who wanted to be seen. Sam suspects with certainty he’s not in these careless halls of teenagers reeking of hormones and wariness of social status.

High school is not as gentle with kids like Sam and Davey. But Sam can tackle it, give as good as he gets. That’s what he’s been trained to do, what their dad trained him to do, those sparring sessions with Dean every other day doesn’t go to waste, as much as Sam likes to grumble and whine. The decomposition ghost of a girl in a tatty white dress with fine needlepoint lace trimmings from the 1820’s has more oomph in her thump than any of these teenagers.

Even in a Gas-mart town like this one full of greasy kids with dirty fingernails Sam still is stared at by clusters of kids. Maybe it’s the adequate collection of bruising on his body from said sparring and Victorian decomposition, or maybe it’s the fact he’s an outsider (he’s always the outsider) but Sam doesn’t mind. Cleanliness and godliness are deceptive, he’d rather wear his wounds, his ugliness. No fooling, he was torn and stitched.

Dean picks Sam up, sees the mop of brown hair and downcast face amongst the sea of chattering high-spirited kids. It reminds Dean of when he encouraged him to go to a classmate's birthday party in kindergarten, timid little Sammy protested but Dean encouraged his little brother to go, nervy on all he was missing out growing up. When Dean went to pick him up at McDonald's he spotted him, dejected, eyes glazed over. Other children around him screaming and sliding into pits filled with coloured balls. It splintered Dean to his core.

When Sam is in arm reach Dean tousles Sam's hair, and he gets a whack of the hand and a gruff in response.

“How’d it go Sammy?” Dean asks, hefting himself up into the driver's seat.

“Fine.” Sam replies, quick, sharp. “And it’s Sam,” he stresses.

Dean doesn’t know what it is these days but there’s a slight ache, a gnawing. Sam used to look at Dean like he hung the stars just for him. That Dean was God’s own reflection but now there’s a distance, an interspace and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. At first, he thought maybe it’s teenage hormones or pheromones or whatever the fuck, but Dean never remembers being that sulky as a teenager. Maybe he never got the chance. When he tries to touch Sam, he flinches, scurries away like he just spooked a rodent. Used to revel in it, they practically grew up in each other's arms. Was still sharing a bed in the motels until two years ago.

Dean would never admit it out loud to him, but he misses Sam. Misses that constant comfort of touch and affection.

They stop off at a local diner on their way back to the trailer park, Sam questions if they have enough money for the month to eat out, Dean tells him not to worry. All wooden panels, red and white checkered table clothes, a sign that reads, ‘lumber jack pancake special for $5.95!’ Dean eyes it up, breakfast at dinnertime, their lives never have rhythm or reason anyways. They slide into a booth of worn leather, Sam on one side, Dean on the other.

Sam orders a panini with ham and cheese and fries, Dean the lumber jack pancakes. When they arrive by a shy petite waitress with inky dark eyes and blushing blotted cheeks, Dean swipes a fry off Sam’s plate just to receive another swat. Any touch is better than no touch, bad attention better than none.

Sam doesn’t miss the way the waitresses' eyes linger on Dean’s profile. If he shoots a frosty glare her way Dean doesn’t have to know.

The sun with no forgiveness, a parched sky, the hillsides with purple wilting drifts of milkweed, dotting the cracks of the gas-station and garage. It was Saturday, Sam was at the garage while Dean worked. Tucked in a corner sheltered from the suns ruthless beat with his library copy of Catcher In The Rye he couldn’t return when John dragged them out of the motel inn at dawn a town back. Sam said he felt guilty, Dean told him to stop being such a law-abiding citizen.

He gazed at Dean, could smell his sweat, sharp and strong, a man, Sam’s brain applied helpfully. He was wearing overalls, wiping workman sweat from his forehead. Sam wanted to lick him, taste the salt and summer kissed skin. He knows he’s disgusting. At this rate Sam thinks he should stab his eyes out, so he can’t look. Burn his skin off, so he can’t touch.

The next Sunday, Sam sleeps in late. He finds Dean slouched on the floral couch, stretched out like a housecat watching TV. It’s always a rarity to see him in a relaxed stance, undisturbed, a recess to the constant chaos of their lives. It settles something steady and peaceful within Sam with just a hint of sadness. He mumbles a drowsy good morning and trudges to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He pisses in the toilet, sluggish, holds himself up steady with a hand against the tiles. The splash of his piss hitting the water too loud in the quiet murmur of their trailer.

Washing his hands, he moseys around in the medicine cabinet above the sink. Inside, aimless trinkets left behind by previous owners. Tweezers with a single gemstone on them, antibiotic ointment, outdated eyedrops.

Sam finds a small capsule behind an empty bottle of aspirin. He reaches for it, revealing a lipstick, the cheap kind you pick-up at Walmart for $5.

He holds it in his hand, stares. Turns it in his palm, opens the lid with a subtle click and rotates the base.

The lipstick itself is a cherry red, obscene kind of red. The type he sees on hookers lingering around the corners at motels when he slips out at dusk to buy Dr Peppers from the vending machine with the quarters Dean made him pocket.

The garish fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, whirring like insects as he watches them showcasing their chests and unveiled legs. They always look cold, Sam thinks.

Sam looks up and scans his face in the mirror, holds the lipstick close to his nose, sniffs it. It smells like wax and chemicals, half suspected it to smell like strawberries and an angel's kiss or something, screws his nose up.

Without much reflection he smears the cherry red lipstick onto his lips, it's messy and askew not as neat as he sees on the girls in Dean's skin mags. He sets down the lipstick onto the sink and looks at himself, really looks.

The glaring red on such a boyish face like Sam's feels lewd and indecent. He feels slightly silly, embarrassed, his cheeks stain a weak scarlet. He wonders what others would think of him like this, Dean, his dad.

God, dad would probably be appalled, call him a sissy, punish him by making him do triple the training. Make him run for miles under the blazing sun.

But Dean, what would Dean think of his little brother like this? If Sam just waltzed right out of the bathroom now and stood dead in the line of Dean's vision. Would he stammer? Get all flustered and struck-dumb? Would he look at Sam and think of him as those girls he promenades to the impala, the motel room when he thinks Sam's asleep and not hanging onto every grunt and sigh coming from Dean's throat. Stores them in the hollow of his heart, imprinted on it just as sacred as the Holy Bible is to a priest.

Would he want to tenderly caress the shape of his mouth, smear the lipstick, make Sam looked wrecked? He inspects the long plains of his body, like scorched landscape, bronzed from June’s boldness.

Sam’s been trying to get used to it, his recasting body. Finally losing his baby fat, almost catching up to Dean in height much to Dean’s dismay. Just he doesn’t carry the newly stretched limbs well, feels like a puppet and someone else is yanking the strings. He hasn’t thought about it much, how others perceive him, how Dean perceives him.

Sure, Sam’s had his first kiss and fumbled under a girl's shirt in Indiana last year, let him touch her boobs. She wore lots of eyeliner, wore black bulky boots and liked Alice In Chains. Sam creamed his pants as soon as he got a soft plump handful, she didn’t seem to mind so he tried not to feel too embarrassed. He couldn’t wait to tell Dean (lied to a reasonable measure) for him to be proud of him. Dean let Sam have his first beer after he told him, “Since you’re a man now,” Dean announced, “Don’t tell Dad,” He winked. Sam never tells John their secrets.

But other than that, he’s a bit clueless, still bashful when girls look his way. Isn’t fabricated like Dean, heavied bottom lip into effortless grin that make’s girls drop and fractures their porcelain hearts, little unconsciously brutal but never intentional to be so. Sam would let Dean smash him into smithereens, shards of broken ceramic all over the tiles, if he’d wanted.

He thinks about the woman who supposedly left the lipstick here, he decides it’s an older woman, barefoot in a simple dress in the tail end of summer, her feet and the palms of her hands showed pale pink against her sunburnt skin, looked ornamental. He decided she had many lovers, wore it for them, wonders if Dean would be one. Wonders what she would think finding out a gawky teenage boy was trying on her bygone lipstick.

Wonders what it would be like to wear this for Dean, his lover.

Dean compulsive, gluttonous with the want of Sam, gushing his hands over the sides of his body, the pull of his rutting teenage hips. The neediness he sometimes gets in that platonic brotherly way bordering on hysteria whenever Sam’s hurt. All his senses submerged entirely by Dean Dean Dean, his touch, his smell, his hot breath.

Sam shoves a frantic hand down his pyjama pants and briefs, wrenches his dick with crazed tugs. Comes that exact same time there’s rough banging on the door, Dean shouting, “Come on Sam, you’ve been in there forever!” rattling the door with his presence.

Sam leaps, grimacing at the mess he made in his pants, swiping a towel and cleaning himself up in rapid motions. Rubs off the lipstick with the back of his hand, scouring his mouth.

“You jerking off in their little brother?” Dean calls out, muffled slightly through the thick wood of the bathroom door, amusement laced in his tone.

When Sam is sure he’s cleansed himself of any misdemeanours and removed all crucial evidence he swings the door open and shoulders past Dean muttering, “No Dean, I wasn’t jerking off.” How much of that Dean believes is out of his control. He pockets the lipstick.

#I wrote a wincest thing #teenchesters #should i write more #i did write a whole story to this like 13k words but I didnt like it much in the end but #here is a snippet #sammy pov figuring his feelings for his brother out #wincest #wincest one shot #weecest #weecest one shot #wincest fanfic #supernatural #spn #sam/dean #sam winchester #dean winchester #pre series sam/dean

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featherdusterbelphie · 3 months

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A Clingy Boy Sticking For 15 Centuries

(not really but he's a demon so)

A/n: something possessed me the other night and I came back to an old idea of mine. BTW, I did not know how to end this lmao...oh well ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭

CW: Satan angst. MC is dead in this fic. If you know the song, you know what's coming. Also includes blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of Nightbringer.

Word count: 1.8k words total.

Satan was one of those who did not cry at your funeral. No matter how much his heart clenched or his throat tightened, he didn't utter a single word or shed a single tear. Not even as they all watched your coffin slowly get lowered down into the ground, not when it gets buried in dirt, not when they finally attach the gravestone with your name on it.

No, Satan wouldn't weep upon your death. He had a reputation to keep, and he will not cry even in the presence of his brothers. Even when he finds himself all alone in the Human World, blankly staring down at your gravestone as if willing it to not exist.

Because try as he might to deny it, Satan had as much of Lucifer's pride in him as the eldest had as much of his wrath. He wanted to be strong for you, to be like his older brother. He knew you didn't want him crying on your behalf, knew beforehand that you wanted him to prosper when you died. To move on and be happy.

And he tried.

He tried so hard, but no matter what he did, there just seem to be some horrible creature eating away at his chest, baring his heart for all to see. Tugging at his chest like a heavy anchor, making every single day feel like wading through deep mud, and all he can do is try his best not to sink and drown. None of his hobbies or interests seemed to fill this emptiness in him, especially since everything reminded him of you. His wrath gets even easier to trigger as well, his mood becoming more erratic and unpredictable as time passed.

He can't go on much longer like this.

So he decided to go for a more healthier approach to coping for your death. He decided to write. He researched and found that none of the known healthy coping mechanisms applied to him nor interested him. Some he already tried and some he didn't even want to consider. He searched some more and found that journaling is a good way of letting out heavy emotions and thoughts, but that seemed far too mundane and cliche for his taste. He wanted to do something more, something special.

So he decided to write poetry about you instead.

At first, he was skeptical and hesitant, afraid that the words he'll write won't be able to capture you, his feelings, everything. Afraid that this won't work and he'll have to find a different way to cope. But what if there isn't any? What if he can't cope with your death that he begins to be consumed by his own grief? No, he can't have that. He'll push through with this, see if this works first. He'll think about other strategies when he gets there.

He started writing once a week, just small things to get some stuff off his chest. He forced himself to keep with this schedule of dedicating a time each week just to write about you, or about his day if thinking about you seemed far too difficult at the time. Slowly, it would turn into a regular habit for him, and he would begin writing more. Expressing his thoughts on paper as his chest feels lighter, and his mood gets better.

Soon, he has enough poetry about you to compose his own anthology book.

He doesn't know how but at some point, Asmo found out about his poetry about you and begged over and over again to let him post it. To share it with the others. Satan wanted none of that at first, he wanted to keep them to himself. These were his poetry about you and his feelings, why would he ever let anyone else see them?

But Asmo was relentless. Day and night, every hour he could get with the fourth-born was spent pleading and begging, going so far as to convince their other brothers to help him when he told them about Satan's writings. This irked Satan, of course, because this was the closest thing to an act of betrayal that Asmo could've done.

He knew how much his brothers cared about you. Knew that they loved you just as much as he did. So he knew how selfish he was acting at the moment, and how easily Asmo guilt-tripped and peer-pressured him. So he decided to compromise with Asmo and the others about posting one of his poetry-- but nothing more. Mammon tried to argue about the unfairness of that limitation but one glare from Satan quickly shut him up.

That evening, he decided to post something more light. Something that showcased you and his love but doesn't intrude on both of your privacy, doesn't relay the extent of your relationship, unlike the others of its kind. He pressed that post button right before he went to sleep, turning his DDD off to rest.

When he turned his DDD on the next morning, he gets blasted with tons of notifications from demons praising his work and sharing it all around. As one of the Seven Lords, which is practically a celebrity title at this point, Satan was used to getting praise and likes on his Devilgram posts from his fans. But this is something a bit different. This isn't some random picture of an adorable cat he found on the street and decided to post about, or a selfie of himself to keep up appearances-- no. These were his feelings, albeit vaguely written. This was the most honest he could ever get with strangers, with his so-called fans. And they were praising him, asking for more.

They enjoyed his work. And he did, too.

Throughout the years, Satan found himself growing a steady fanbase that are loyal to him and his work as he continued to post his poetry on his blog. They would constantly praise him and prompt him to share more, allowing himself a way to cope. Eventually, he posted enough to make his own book, one of his 'friends' offering to publish his poetry into his own anthology book, as a gift for becoming Satan's fan.

Ah, but they were nothing to you, of course. Sure, they praised him and gave him gifts but no one could ever compare to you. They were all just pawns to help him move on, nothing more. Besides, he would reap the benefits for now and deal with the consequences later (not that there would be much, since he's become extremely influential).

But just like VY2, good things don't last forever. He would soon be hit with a devastating curse that left him reverted back to what he used to be. A prank on Lucifer backfired and he found himself confused, scared and angry. He doesn't remember much of anything. Who are these people? What is he? Who is he? And why does he have this heavy feeling in his chest?

Similar to the one in Nightbringer, this amnesiac Satan is violent, prone to outbursts and is uncontrollable. His brothers don't know what to do with him, especially since he can't seem to remember anything at all.

Everyday was a new way to trigger him, to unknowingly cause the destruction of a part of the House of Lamentation. It got so bad that Lucifer had to house arrest him so he couldn't cause trouble at RAD and worst, hurt himself.

When he wasn't causing destruction and burning everything around him, Satan spent his days locked up in his room (either because Lucifer locked him in there or he himself refused to come out). He would cry himself to sleep, he would destroy his room, throw his books, burn the walls and scream until he couldn't. Anything and everything just to make this heavy feeling in his chest go away.

Eventually, he finds a (miraculously intact) copy of his book of poetry written about you and he starts to remember. Bit by bit, day by day, his memories start to come back to him. Slowly, he would start becoming the Satan everyone knew him to be again, the Avatar of Wrath, one of the Seven Lords, but there's something wrong. He can't remember you apart from your name and the fact that he loves you. Where even are you?

When he asks his brothers about you, they either give him a sad look or avoid his question entirely. Sometimes they would even go out of their way to change the subject.

He doesn't understand why they keep acting like this. Or why he has this awful feeling at the back of his head, a bitter taste at the tip of his tongue. Did something happen with you and his brothers that he hasn't remembered yet? Why do they keep referring to you with past tenses?

When Lucifer deemed him healthy and capable enough to go back to school, Satan acts like his normal self. No one bats an eye at his sudden disappearance, why his poetry blog has gone silent for a while. Everything was back the way it was, as much as it did with that nagging feeling still at the back of Satan's mind.

Eventually, he did find out why everyone seemed to be acting weird about you, why no one would talk about you as if you are a taboo they would not dare curse upon.

He found a portrait of you in the Council Room. After a long and boring meeting discussing the coming Halloween event held at RAD, Satan's curiosity piqued when he saw a wall dedicated to you in the room just beside Diavolo's portrait.

As he gets closer, he sees your name written in the golden plaque placed on the bottom of the frame. But what's that message underneath it? His mind blanks at the words he suddenly can't comprehend.

No, this can't be. What does, 'You were beloved and we will miss you dearly. May you find peace wherever you may be. We will always cherish the time we spent with you. We love you MC.' mean?!

He can't believe this, outright refuses to. You can't be dead, can you?! After all, he knows you. You were the exchange student, only second to Solomon in magical prowess and beloved by all of the Devildom. You had a pact with his brothers. He wrote poetry about you and was planning on delivering them to you back to the Human World. They loved you. He loved you-

It clicked on him then. It suddenly made sense why everyone talks about you as if you were a past, something that happened, someone they had to part with. It explains this heaviness in his chest, the faded tear stains in his old poetry drafts, why his own words seem to hold a strange melancholy in them. You were dead, he finally remembered. He almost wished he didn't.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me mc #obey me angst #satan x reader #satan x mc #though it could be platonic imo #my stuff

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restinpeacedarthsonic · 4 months

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Further Guardian Angel AU Ideas

So the original post is doing some numbers, so fuck it! Let’s do a few more!

1) The Seven Deadly Sins were once known as the Seven Great Freedoms. Other than Samael, who was already an Archangel, the other five were Seraphim and Ophanim given a portion of Lucifer’s power, making them pseudo-Archangels. While Heaven didn’t approve of this, God vetoed them and decided to let Lucifer cook (because that deity had PLANS, and you can bet your bottom dollar that he intended for the eight of them, including Lilith, to rule Hell one day… just not as early as it ended up happening). Other than Samael, I don’t currently feel like scouring the Internet for proper Angel names for the rest of the Deadly Sins, so I’m just gonna use their Demon names. Samael/Satan was the Freedom of Defense. Asmodeus was the Freedom of Pleasure. Mammon was the Freedom of Wealth (because Wealth can indeed bring great freedom). Beezlebub was the Freedom of Fulfillment (in this case the fulfillment of basic needs; one can not be free if they are starving and thirsty). Leviathan was the Freedom of Ambition. Belphagor was the Freedom of Rest. And Lucifer and Lilith… were still Pride! But in this case it was a healthy Pride in one’s good works, and not the sort of Pride that came before the Fall.

2) When Eve started her relationship with Lucifer and Lilith, she basically asked them to step on her. They both initially objected to this, saying that this was merely what Eve was PROGRAMMED to want. However, Eve shot this down by saying “Yes, I was born this way! Everything on Earth and Heaven was born a certain way! What matters is if I have a choice in how I fulfill my natural desires. I never choose to be Adam’s submissive wife, even though I enjoy it shamefully. I CHOOSE to be your submissive wife, shamelessly!” And so, Lilith and Lucifer would eventually invent BDSM to fulfill Eve’s increasingly kinky desires. If you’re wondering HOW a bunch of naked savages who haven’t even invented the house yet could possibly invent BDSM. Simple: Lucifer and his PURE ANGELIC POOOWWWAAAAHHH!!! He just snaps whatever they need into existence. Raphael would later tell Lute about this new BDSM thing. She greatly appreciated this, as sex was starting to get a bit dull.

3) As implied above, Lute was also fairly submissive in—- well, I was about to say the bedroom, but those hadn’t been invented yet! However, neither Lute nor Adam were even remotely as clever as Lucifer and Lilith, so the idea of adding whips and chains to spice up their sexy times just never occurred to either of them (despite the fact that, as an Angel, Lute knew of all these things). Their fun times consisted of a lot of manhandling. Lots of stepping on Lute’s face. When Raphael approached Lute after the Fall and after her and Adam started fucking again with this whole BDSM thing Luci and Lilly invented, she was stoked to try this out.

4) Raphael also kept Lute and Adam getting back together a secret, though unlike Eve’s relationship with Lucifer and Lilith (remember, Adam had no idea Eve cheated on him until the Battle of the Hazbin Hotel), this secret was eventually uncovered.

5) As stated previously, this resulted in Lute being stripped of her rank as an Archangel, reducing her to a mere Ishim. And yes, this does mean cutting off four of her wings, leaving her with just two. Let’s just say that cutting off Vaggie’s wings was pretty cathartic for Lute.

6) While this never really had a chance to manifest fully during her time in Eden, seeing how at the time Adam literally only knew three women (Lute included), Lute would eventually come to find that seeing Adam plow other women REALLY got her off. Her first hints of this was how she would kinda enjoy watching Adam and Eve have sex, though in this case the pleasure would be GREATLY outweighed by her sheer envy of the woman. Once Lute knew Adam was hers though and Eve was out of the picture (down in Hell and slowly mutating into an Eldritch Abomination)… well, then the fun really started! This is how Adam can be both in a committed, ten millennia long relationship and be a promiscuous bastard at the same time. She initially sat in the corner and watched, but when this started to creep out Adam’s conquests, she instead decided to use a secret viewing window. In the modern day she uses security cameras to get her sex tapes. And yes, to make this incredibly obvious, I am saying both Lute and Adam deserve to be in Hell. Adam exemplifies all Seven Deadly Sins, and Lute is both incredibly Lustful and Wrathful.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #lucifer hazbin hotel #guitarspear #lilith hazbin hotel #lucifer x lilith #forbidden fruit #eve hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #lute hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #guardian angel au #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel angels

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oceanlipgloss · 6 months

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MEPHISTOPHELES

introductory note: this post has been in my drafts for quite some time, slowly and objectively getting spoon-fed with important things I learn about Mephistopheles; and now that the newest lesson is out, I'm happy I decided to wait to put it up. It's going to be lengthy, but it's categorised with titles, so navigation should be fairly easy.

⭑⭑⭑´ˎ˗

To begin with, it's upsetting enough when someone is misunderstood and treated in an unjust manner as a result; but when there aren't even any attempts made to understand them, that's truly not tolerable. At all. Even if that someone is only a compound of pixels.

Besides the prejudice, such behaviour says something about its people and portrays how they may deal with individuals (similar to the characters they're hating on) in real life. This is something that's horribly common in fandoms, but it's in no way whatsoever acceptable or right.

It's also so strange how some characters are excused, accepted, tolerated and swooned over when/if they do similar/worse/horrid things, while others are blatantly blamed. So I ask: why the hypocrisy?

This is something forgotten by many: loving a character is a package that includes accepting their mistakes and shortcomings, but loving them neither means that they're perfect, nor makes a mistake they make acceptable just because they're the ones who made it. A mistake is a mistake, and a shortcoming is a shortcoming.

Mephistopheles is one of my all-time favourite characters, and my favourite in the franchise as well. I love him so, so much. However, that's just one reason as to why it hurts to see how misunderstood and disliked he is; the sheer hatred directed at his character and shallow understanding of his person are so unfair and, quite frankly, very ill-based.

He may behave like an arrogant, rude and traditional aristocrat most of the time, but numerous reasons and factors stand behind his behaviour and viewpoints (even though they aren't always entirely right).

But: he's mostly painted in negative tones, as it's normally ignored or forgotten how, in reality, he's sweet, awkward, honest and kind; his actions tend to go against the mean things or claims he might say, and reflect who he is on the inside instead.

More importantly, he's lonely and deeply hurt—rightfully and understandably so—that is an undeniable fact which he himself admitted.

THE HERITAGE

Numerous times throughout the story, Mephistopheles says that—for generation upon generation—his family has been serving the royal one, whether it be as knights or otherwise, and he, no different, was raised to do just that. He was born to do just that.

However, an additional objective was added to his agenda: he was not only to serve the demon king or prince, but also become the latter's friend.

Mephistopheles was, quite literally, brought up to be Diavolo's friend; and as he apparently seems to keep to himself and doesn't talk about any other friends or even acquaintances (so far), I suspect that means Diavolo is—was—his sole friend.

As per the royals' wishes, the two children grew up together—one became the heir to the throne, while the other became that heir's right hand man.

Again, Mephistopheles is not merely a member of the demonic aristocracy; the family he comes from is explicitly dedicated to serving and protecting the royal family, and it has been for thousands of centuries. It's very important to keep this in mind, because that ancient heritage most likely founded many of his viewpoints, beliefs, and opinions (like his thoughts on humans and fallen angels).

With such heritage comes the burden of a great responsibility, as well as immense pride and honor. So, by becoming Diavolo's right hand man, Mephistopheles was able to fulfill his role—and hence his destiny—as well as respect his family's golden heritage and treasure his honor.

However, when Lucifer—a newcomer, and a fallen angel nonetheless—came into the picture, everything took a drastic turn for Mephistopheles. He lost his (possibly only) friend. He lost his position. And since he was the first member of his family to be released from the duty of directly serving the royal family, there was an unexpected stutter in his own family's continuous heritage (of tending to the royals). This, in turn, hurt not only his feelings, but also wounded his pride and injured his honor (as well as his family's).

As such, what Mephistopheles is feeling doesn't just stem from something as simple as jealousy. On the contrary, Mephistopheles feels as though his honor and pride have been marred, his self-esteem and worth have gotten cracked, his family has been disgraced, and that's all because he was robbed of his position—meaning his very purpose in life—due to the prince's friendship with a stranger, a fallen angel.

His destiny to benefit the prince (which had been decided for him even before his birth) was broken right before his eyes, yet he could do nothing but watch from afar, because he was raised to follow the royal family's every command, accept their every whim and go through with their every desire. These proprieties are a law that flows in his blood and was carved into his very bones.

All he could do was try to prove himself, his skills and his very worth to Diavolo again and again and again.

THE MINDSET

As aforementioned: seeing as Mephistopheles descends from a family whose entire bloodline has been dedicated to the royal one, his mindset was formed by that family's old traditions; and he believes in those traditions, which is why, in his mind, a fallen angel and a demon are not equals.

Prior to Diavolo's reign, no Demon King had made any attempt to form friendly relations and harmony between the three realms. This means that, up until that point, angels and demons (as well as humans) still held on to their own beliefs, believed that each of them is superior to the other, had no interest in communication or so much as considering the other party's views, and still gave their own interests importance over those of others/humans (more so in the case of demons).

This animosity portrays itself clearly in Lucifer's severe reactions to Diavolo and his views on demons from back when he was still a seraph. Even the way other angels talked about demons shows a certain coldness. And the same goes for demons; they all viewed Lucifer and his brothers as fallen angels—absolutely unwelcome outcasts—and the shopkeepers of those were not even willing to let them into their stores; rather, they made a point to force and kick them out, like they did to Mammon.

This tension between the realms encouraged Diavolo to found RAD and put together the exchange program (even though at that point, he himself still believed humans were inferior in a sense).

Some demons, however, still clutched their traditional views close and were unwilling to let them go. Mephistopheles is one of those demons; he berates Lucifer and his brothers for being fallen angels, and looks down on MC for being a 'lowly' human. There's much more to his opinions than some people think (and nobility played its part in forming them), but behaving as he did, of course, was not quite the right thing to do.

Now, families such as the one Mephistopheles comes from are founded on particular, timeless traditions—traditions that Diavolo revolted against, if you will, and began to change through the exchange program by focusing on angel, demon and human interaction. This was hard for even lower-level demons to adjust to, so it must have been much, much harder for someone like Mephistopheles.

And considering his family's status, Mephistopheles has always lived in an atmosphere of political views and is always aware of all the 'national' news and occurences in the Devildom. All this made him patriotic, and that's a reason why he believes that the Devildom is for demons and demons alone, and yet another reason that feeds his scorn for Lucifer and his disdain for the avatar's brothers.

THE FALLEN ANGELS

Lucifer being a fallen angel is not the sole reason as to why Mephistopheles hates him.

Mephistopheles does not hate the brothers simply for their backgrounds or even just for being close to Diavolo, because there's also how he also considers them a threat to his homeland.

He thinks of them as lethal weapons. He blames them for the fear and anxiety hanging over the Devildom. He worries that his homeland would be destroyed due to their presence.

What happened to the brothers was hard, and it wasn't their fault that they had nowhere else to go, but in a way, he's right, because by giving the seven demons a home in the Devildom, Diavolo put the entire land at a risk much too grand, and the lives of his subjects at the mercy of the Celestial Realm.

THE PRINCE

When Diavolo met Lucifer, the celebrated seraph piqued his interest in such away that Lucifer almost became an obsession of his (not in a romantic context, but rather in a more 'exotic and interesting' one). Which is to say, Lucifer was not only a different species, but the most beautiful of that species, and to Diavolo he was a just that—a rare jewel, a dazzling novelty; with him came new experiences, too (i.e. talking to an angel for the first time ever).

Lucifer was one of the two greatest angels of the Celestial Realm, and Diavolo had lead a sheltered life, but no one had not heard about the prideful angel, and the demon prince was no exception. So, when the two finally met and conversed, Diavolo's interest skyrocketed and he wished for them to be friends.

What truly made friendship with Lucifer a necessity to Diavolo, though, was Lucifer's bold attitude and daring mannerisms. Mephistopheles had always treated Diavolo as a prince—formal and careful—but Lucifer treated him more like a friend.

Mephistopheles asks for permission before giving Diavolo his opinions, while Lucifer is not afraid to speak his mind—and that's what Diavolo wants: a fearless friend, not a reluctant advisor. And even when Mephistopheles voices his honest thoughts, Diavolo doesn't like what he hears, because his childhood friend becomes too intense as he clings to his beliefs and opposes affiliation with other species.

In the end, when Lucifer fell from grace, he and Diavolo came to spend a lot of time together, so much so that they became best friends; and as that friendship grew, Mephistopheles suddenly found himself being pushed out of Diavolo's circle—away from his childhood friend's side and away from his life, slowly but surely. That hurt him a lot and set alight within him hatred towards Lucifer, which is understandable; Lucifer had never meant to inflict pain on Mephistopheles, but he had indeed hurt him by 'taking' his rank and his friend—that's a fact. And, honestly, he sometimes does tend to needle him, which is really mean, but demons will be demons. I can appreciate the realism, at least.

Diavolo's mistake lies not in wanting to be friends with Lucifer, but in how he treated Mephistopheles as he formed that friendship. He began to spend little time with him and more time with Lucifer. He started to leave him out. He talked to him less and less. Eventually, it got to a point in which they only met up once in a blue moon (mentioned by Lucifer himself), and Mephistopheles either wouldn't even know about the latest occurences, or was the last to learn about them (even worse: sometimes he got to know thanks to humans, the outsiders).

The following statement(s) may be offensive to some, even though they've been shown or at least implied in both games so far; but if everything Mephistopheles was put through wasn't enough, Diavolo doesn't really seem to care much for Mephistopheles's constant efforts to display his skillset, or even respect his feelings whatsoever (i.e. inviting Lucifer and MC to join him and Mephistopheles for a dinner they were supposed to have together, even though he knows how Mephistopheles feels about Lucifer).

When one's childhood friend—who's most likely their only friend, too—treats them so heartlessly, pushes them away for the sake of someone new, and doesn't take their feelings into consideration, how are they not supposed to get severely hurt and upset?

THE EFFECTS

By orchestrating Mephistopheles's replacement, Diavolo delivered a huge blow not only to the latter's honor and pride, but also to his self-confidence.

Even if he usually boasts his bloodline and makes fun of Lucifer, deeming him unworthy, even if many think that he's pompous and suffers of no such thing as a mottled ego, the truth is, he probably does.

Why else would he ask Diavolo if he thinks Lucifer is better than he is? Why else is he always trying to prove himself to Diavolo and pounces at any chance he gets to do so? Why would he be happy once he got leeway to demonstrate his skills to the prince? Why would he force himself to work in journalism when he had no interest in the field if it were not to showcase his worth? It's not just about catering to the prince's wishes.

Of course, there is also the hint of a challenge towards Lucifer—the usual 'I'm better than you and I will prove it'—but that doesn't really compare to his other feelings.

He's lonely, and he really needs someone to talk to—someone who can listen to him and understand him without being insensitive or making a joke out of his thoughts, reactions and feelings. That shows in how, even when he had earlier avoided so much as greeting Solomon on the street, he immediately started pouring his heart out to him when the latter prodded him with an understanding statement.

He may constantly voice his objections and disapproval of Lucifer, but he could not truly object in the tangible sense. All he could do was try once and again to prove himself to Diavolo, in the hopes that the prince would see his talents and skills, perhaps choose him over Lucifer, and give him not his position as right hand man back, but rather his place as the trusted friend he can once again rely on.

THE NICE THINGS

Mephistopheles is genuine, sensitive and emotional. He doesn't beat around the bush. He just expresses how and what he's feeling—whether emotions born in the heat of the moment or lurking inside for quite some time—and if he doesn't talk about it, it shows in his silence and on his face. He's like Mammon that way; they both don't know how to lie or hide their true thoughts and feelings (even if they horribly want to). If they're upset, it shows. If they're happy, it shows. If they're hiding something, it shows.

He's innocent and soft-hearted. It's so easy for him to back down and waver if he's met with proper treatment (i.e. compensating him with a bottle of rare Demonus was enough to get his help), a certain reaction (i.e. MC giving him an upset look, so he found himself barely able to refuse dinner with Lucifer himself), or a cute situation (i.e. he was displeased when Raphael made him carry Luke, but all it took for him to melt was one look at Luke's sleeping face).

Despite his prestigious background (and the likely gatherings and meetings that come with it), he seems to be awkward. He would rather not greet someone he's merely acquainted with but doesn't know well even if they glimpsed one another on the street.

There's also how he loves his little brother so much. He always babies him and gets him presents, like sweets and clothes.

And what about how much he cares for Luke? What about how he was the only one who risked his life to save him? Even Luke, who always nitpicks the faults of demons, came to love and respect him for what he did. Doesn't that say something? In addition, he helps Luke whenever he can and gives him lots of encouragement, like when he complimented the quality of his desserts and told him that it always amazed him.

Also, he understands how MC feels about wanting to go back home and confronts Lucifer about it, coming to MC's defense as he did. While he may have warmed up to MC a little, the real reason for his actions lies in how he is willing to put his personal feelings aside to do the right thing and be fair and righteous.

He does things for others and helps them—saving them from possible injuries in the process—yet genuinely believes that it's something he doesn't need to be thanked for doing because he thinks 'anyone else would have done the same thing,' which is not true at all.

He doesn't let his personal feelings interfere with and stop him from doing the right thing (i.e. he first used to refer to MC as 'the lowly human exchange student' (original game), but when MC was about to tumble and fall, he came to the rescue and said it was not something he should be thanked for; and in the current game—and despite how he feels about humans and other races—he says that MC can go back to the Devildom whenever, so there's no need to worry about leaving. He doesn't adopt a 'I don't want non-demons to be here, so you should go home and never come back' attitude. Also, he played a huge part in encouraging the brothers to rescue Lucifer when he saw that they were plagued by fear and doubts).

He has no issue giving those he doesn't like credit (i.e. when he told the brothers that he had underestimated them).

Despite his viewpoints, Mephistopheles is not malicious. He never actively tries to inflict serious harm (i.e. unlike demons who treated the brothers cruelly and kicked them out of shops, he readily cooperates with his 'enemies' and the 'lowlives' when needed, like when he and MC solved one of the 666 Mysteries of RAD together).

His pet salamander constantly tries to burn the curtains, but he finds him so cute that he just can't stay angry with him.

He pours a whole pot of sugar into his teacup so he can sweeten his tea! Meaning, he has a sweet tooth, and that's so damn adorable.

He's a main maker/designer of the Prince Lucifer and Princess Diavolo stickers!

LAST BUT NOT LEAST, the first thing I want from NTT once they give Mephistopheles his own intimacy bar is to let MC be there for him; to listen to him, talk to him, encourage him to enjoy his own life, away from Diavolo's shadow and wishes; to let him be kinder to himself, give him the chance to mend his confidence, and a wake-up call to realise that neither Diavolo nor anyone else determines his worth; help him out of his fixation on the fallen angel and the prince and the desire to prove himself worthy; see that he understands he's not a genie forced to grant whatever his Lord wishes for, that he can speak his mind without concern; make him realise that he wasn't born to live life for Diavolo, that he's not a puppet crafted to serve the prince. He's so much more than that. He's alive and breathing, and he deserves so much more than the dreary, painful life he's walking the path of.

⭑⭑⭑´ˎ˗

ending note: NTT, please, please, please add him already. Pretty please.

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#obey me mephisto #obey me mephistopheles #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me swd #shall we date? obey me!#om! shall we date #om! swd #obmswd #obmnb #obey me shall we date

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