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itsthesinbin · an hour ago
From afar (dateables + Luke edition)
A follow-up from this post, about how those who MC befriended (and loved) in Devildom continue to show their love from afar upon their return to the human world. Knowingly, and unknowingly.
cw: death mentions & references to hanging in Diavolo's section. Technically coercion/manipulation (of the non-sexual variety) in Simeon's (removal of free-will).
Diavolo (The Prince of Hell - dominion over his plane and others)
To say you don’t have a ‘green thumb’ is a bit of an understatement. It’s somewhat of a talent of yours to manage to kill any plant beyond any reasonable chance for revival. You’ve killed succulents, and those thrive on neglect. At least this time the massacre left of your houseplants isn’t entirely your fault - you didn’t have much warning before being abducted to Devildom for a year, after all.
You keep meaning to chuck out the remains of your plants, but you can’t bring yourself to be that proactive that soon after your return- Not when sleep calls to you so sweetly, not when it’s easier to do nothing at all - and honestly the withered remains are a great reflection for your own emotional state.
Which is why you’re confused when one of the dead plants sprouts anew. You leave it alone, assuming that a weed has maybe taken root, brought in from outside somehow. And yet… the sprout continues to grow, and eventually blossom.
A bright, red rose with petals that lighten towards the edges, giving you the impression of fire burning from the centre. It’s familiar. And comforting. It also seems to repel insects, as you notice a number of dead flies around the pot, so you decide its usefulness is another point towards keeping it.
This is not the only miraculous bloom, either. From dead and empty pots begin sprouting all manner of flowers. Lavender (but not quite), lilies (glowing slightly), and gerberas (freezing to the touch). You receive a lot of compliments from your very few house guests, and you even bequeath a cutting of the almost-not-quite lavender to your elderly neighbor. The plants begin to overtake your apartment, and you find it eases some of the homesickness.
You think maybe your plant luck has come to an end when a possum manages to get into your apartment one evening, presumably through the window you leave open for your crow visitors. Its pupils are pinpricks, and it’s teeth are bared and dripping with black, viscous liquid. You notice between its sharp (blood covered?) claws are the remains of some of your gerberas. There are deep gouges and scratches all over its body. Though you notice some of the flowers are missing, more have sprouted elsewhere, spreading like vines throughout your apartment.
You call pest control to come and take care of it because there is no way you’re getting close to that thing. The workers who arrive compliment you on the flowers blooming throughout the apartment before ensnaring the possum in their net and leaving with it. You overhear them muttering about how they’ve never seen a possum go rabid quite like this.
One day, you come home to an ambulance out the front of your building. You watch as the paramedics wheel out a covered stretcher. Following them is the tearful granddaughter of your elderly neighbour. Old age eventually takes us all, you think, trying not to imagine your own shuffling off that mortal coil. You attend the memorial service held for the community, and soon learn it was not her age, but rather, severe sleep deprivation that caused your neighbour’s passing. At the wake, you hear your neighbor’s family discussing the supposedly sudden onset of insomnia, how she hadn’t slept a wink in weeks before her heart and mind both gave out.
You leave a fiery red rose at her grave.
There’s a news report you never see about an attack at a local animal pound, where two of the workers allegedly turned on each other and the company, attacking with their bare hands and their teeth. They had reportedly gone rabid themselves, though experts remark that they’d never seen cases like this before.
Another report, this time of a groundskeeper who hung himself in the cemetery. There are lots of ghost stories that spawn from this, try as the funeral director might to discourage such tales.
Barbatos (Servant of Hell, Master of Time)
You really enjoy making tea, now that you’re back home. Drinking it is great and all, but the act of making, of turning on the kettle, filling up the pot, preparing your mug - that’s something soothing in and of itself.
The thing is, sometimes you just… forget halfway through the process. You’ll boil the kettle, walk away to do something else in the two intervening minutes, and then half an hour later realize that oh yeah, I put the kettle on. Sometimes you’ll get right up to pouring the water in, and then the same thing happens - you walk away, get distracted, and come back to tea that is way too over-steeped.
At least, that’s the way it happened before your trip to Devildom.
It honestly takes you a little while to notice something is different when you return. You enjoy your tea blends that you missed while in the other realm, and think that maybe that time away was exactly what you needed to get yourself in order when it comes to making tea - every cup has turned out perfectly.
There was one time when you went to make a cuppa before you left for an event in the evening, though once again you completely forgot about it while finishing up your makeup. By the time you return, in the early hours of the morning, you expect to have to deal with the black-as-ink, oversteeped tea you left on the bench. What you were not expecting, however, was the perfectly brewed hot tea waiting for you.
This trend continues. You go to make a cup of tea, sometimes as a way to procrastinate, and others just because you’re really craving it. Half the time you remember and actually finish making it. The other half… well. You always end up with a perfect cup regardless.
(When you return to Devildom, you thank Barbatos. He provides you with a little insight: “While the others may be more wanton in unwittingly throwing their power around, I do not have that luxury. Knowing I could still bring you comfort even indirectly was enough to stem some of my more… sinister impulses. My Lord Diavolo would be inconvenienced should I accidentally start a war with Heaven over a minor break in Time.”)
Simeon ("He hears your prayer")
You’ve learned a thing or two about confidence over your year away. It’s hard not to when you acquire several partners who are somewhat contractually obliged to bow to your whim. Even those you don’t have pacts with you found were very happy to accommodate you. It was a change in pace compared to your old life, the one before in which you struggled to be heard, often talked over and ignored.
Humans, you realize, are a lot easier to manage than demons, angels, and those in between. Say anything with enough confidence, be the first to make a decision, and you find that people quickly defer to you.
A group outing that culminates in umm’ing and ah’ing about where to eat? You bring up the local pizzeria, and everyone quickly agrees.Tension between two of your coworkers culminating in some mediation? ‘Talk it out and apologize’ you cut in, advice which is followed almost immediately.
You suggest a change in direction with your thesis, one that would undo the vast majority of work you had put in prior to your year away. Your supervisors are quick to agree without argument, which is odd, because your new topic would take it entirely out of their fields of expertise.
You moan and groan at your desk about needing caffeine just to be annoying, and not two minutes later one of your coworkers returns with a large quad-shot latte.
You ask your old friends to hang out, and they acquiesce, dropping all their previous plans. They assure you that they very much want to spend time with you but there’s a shard of ice in your heart that you know is doubt. What caused them to change their minds over the year away? You were never particularly close to begin with, and they didn’t seem too concerned by your spontaneous exchange trip.
It’s not until you get into a minor tiff with Solomon via text in which he opposes your opinion that the latest episode of Preternatural was good, actually, that you realize that literally everyone is agreeing with you.
That’s not a bad thing, though….right? Is it really so awful that everyone is agreeable? You’ve eliminated a lot of tension before it could even come to pass. Your confidence is through the roof knowing that no one can tell you no. You think, maybe, this is a good thing. You ignore the voice in the back of your head that reminds you that free will is not the choice to do something, but rather, the choice to not do it.
Solomon (The Old King - Wisdom granted by the divine)
You have two pieces of evidence in your life that remind you that your year away was more than just a wistful fever dream. The first is your DDD, its case bedazzled and a chocolate lizard charm hanging from the side. You occasionally receive all sorts of texts, and amusingly enough, Karasu’s spy add-on still seems to function.
The second piece of evidence that helps to ground you to reality is Solomon. Despite his immortality, he seems perfectly content to wander the mundane world. He told you once, during a quiet evening in Purgatory Hall, that he sees the protection of the human world as somewhat of a responsibility - especially against arcane and divine forces. You find yourself lucky enough to receive some of that responsibility personally.
He doesn’t stick to you like glue, though. You know he has thousands of years of history on this earth, and likely just as many acquaintances still alive or arcane phenomena to see.
He wasn’t there immediately upon your return either, taking a few weeks to himself to settle some loose ends. He sees you in the worst of your tired, sorrowful state, in those first few months. (You later learn it was his aid, his strength that helped you get out of bed. He reached out to Lucifer, to let him know of your clinging to the Seventh). After that, though he left for long periods each time, he never really left you alone.
The first was his contact info in your (ordinary, mundane, technological) phone. He starts sending you messages and memes before he even leaves your apartment. This becomes a constant, and there’s a large part of you that is very amused by the idea of Solomon, with all of his wisdom and age and experience, being obsessed with the benefits of marine biology.
When he returns the next time and sees the flowers growing throughout your apartment, his eyes widen. He asks permission to steal a few petals, and you grant it unconditionally. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but ten minutes later you stumble across him completing some kind of ritual at your threshold. To make sure your ever-growing, ever-willful garden doesn’t escape the boundaries of your home, he tells you. When he leaves again, he gives you a crown woven from those same flowers. It never wilts, and you wear it on the days you feel most alone.
He sends you souvenirs from his travels. Sometimes books, sometimes baubles, always cursed. There’s something deep, primal in you that knows each of these objects are bad news. That they have connections to the darkest magics, the worst impulses of men. The curses do not do anything to you, as you’re more deeply tied to their sources than a curse could ever hope to replicate. They remind you of home.
When you ask where he disappears to, he tells you that he’s preparing. “There is a time in which one day you will be dust, and humans, angels, and demons will all have to deal with the fallout.” He hints at minor breaks in reality created by the children of the divine. When he talks about your inevitable end, he takes the same tone. You don’t want to think about what that means. He offers you a drink out of a flask that tastes like life itself, and you kindly pretend you don’t hear his arcane muttering as you swallow.
Luke (The Little Light)
The crows were one thing. The rabid possum is another. Somehow though you don’t think either of those are connected instances. Not like this.
There’s a dog park entrance at around the halfway point in your normal running route. Before your return, you’d occasionally get one or two of the more excitable and friendly dogs run up to greet you, to follow you on your run on their own side of the fence. Now, like you’ve thrown a ball for all of them to return, the entire park follows you on your run, their tails wagging, much to the confusion of their owners. They bark excitedly, and you feel like you almost understand them as they beckon you to come and play. You find it hard to ignore, the sound cutting in through and over the music in your headphones.
It’s like you have catnip in your pockets wherever you go. Strays constantly approach you, their meows growing ever louder and always pleading.
Soon, it’s more than cats and dogs and birds chirping, and the squeaking of mice and possums. There’s noise, wherever you go. The tree branches arc towards you, their old groaning you feel deep in your being. The grass crunches beneath your feet, and yet you still hear the scuttling, the quick back and forth, the high pitched singing rhythmic orders of the insects that inhabit it. The waves lap at the shore, and the water hitting the sand is simply an ostinato to the much louder, much larger singing howling screeching -
There’s so much noise, it’s so overwhelming, there’s no quiet the world is living and breathing and screaming and-
You take a deep breath. Focus.
You find things to distract you from that ever present sound. The Merchant of Venice is playing at your local theatre, and though by far not your favorite of Shakespeare’s plays, you remember liking the company that performs it. You regret it a little, as some of the themes make you uncomfortable, but in the final act, Lorenzo says: Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
The thing is, you can hear it - the Music of the Spheres, that is. That noise, that constant hum that is maybe singing, maybe screaming, you realize it now to be that resonance between souls, worlds, celestial bodies. You don’t know how though. You’ve never heard it before. You're not even sure it's something to be heard, and yet... The world seems to favour you, like it wants to show you all the bright, amazing, wonderful things. It sings for you, and you think it sounds fond.
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itsthesinbin · 7 hours ago
sterling do you fucking MIND
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itsthesinbin · 8 hours ago
I FORGOT TO FUCKIN MAKE THIS POST i dont remember the picrew i used so if someone sends it to me ill link it but
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itsthesinbin · 10 hours ago
so many posts about hating being perceived….. I love being perceived by people who love me
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itsthesinbin · 16 hours ago
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Most oddly named town in each US state.
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itsthesinbin · 17 hours ago
TIL of Tetris Syndrome, which is when you play a game too long and you start to dream about it, and hallucinate about it on the edges of your vision.
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itsthesinbin · a day ago
i love him i want to hit with my car he’s my best friend i will tear him from limb to limb i understand him i think he’s the worst person in the world i want to send him to therapy i will strap him to a table and dissect him like a frog i want to hug him i will cut off his parachute and throw him off a plane
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itsthesinbin · 2 days ago
doin a few commissions cause its the holidays and im poor and anxious
i will not draw: ns/fw, mecha/overly detailed designs, hate art
my specialties are feral ocs and feminine leaning ocs
standalone, transparent fullbodies, going for $20 each, examples here:
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itsthesinbin · 2 days ago
Y’all be like “I hate bts but this song is so good 🙈” and I go to listen to the song and it’s the worst song I ever heard in my life god bless
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itsthesinbin · 3 days ago
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my spotify wrapped thing
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itsthesinbin · 3 days ago
doin a few commissions cause its the holidays and im poor and anxious
i will not draw: ns/fw, mecha/overly detailed designs, hate art
my specialties are feral ocs and feminine leaning ocs
standalone, transparent fullbodies, going for $20 each, examples here:
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itsthesinbin · 3 days ago
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Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor UR+ card animations
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itsthesinbin · 4 days ago
Loving MC from afar
Ok so this is the first fic I've written in a long while and it's about a mobile otome game. I blame @demonfamilytherapist
Set (loosely) in between S1 and S2, after MC has returned to the human world. They might be separated from the brothers, but that does not stop the brothers from loving them from afar. A little look into how the brothers can subtly (and not so subtly) influence the world and MC themself in order to stay connected. (gn) MC-centric! This does cover all the brothers, though Lucifer/Pride is last for chronology reasons...
cw: Brief blood mention in Satan’s section. There are references to being lethargic and uninterested in life/hobbies that could very easily be read as depression in Belphie’s section. Definitely elements of manipulation and dubious morality throughout too.
Mammon (Greed - to collect and covet material objects and goods)
There’s a knock on your window just after you wake up. It’s been happening for a few days now, but you never catch who’s doing it. The window itself is quite high up, and if it’s someone throwing rocks on a regular basis, well, they’ve got very good aim.
On a whim, you leave a camera rolling overnight. The following morning, you hear the knock again, and this time, you’re ready. The batteries are almost dead but thankfully the camera managed to catch the last few moments before winking off. Plugging it into your laptop, you scrub through the entire night so you can catch the early morning. And - well. It’s not what you were expecting.
In the hour just before you go to sleep, you notice a crow land in the branches across from the window, its eyes glinting gold through the lens of the camera. It doesn’t move all night. It doesn’t even sleep. In the morning, about the time you guess you woke, it flies up to the window, pecking the glass once with its beak, and then it flaps away into the brisk air.
You set the camera up the following evening, just to check if it was a fluke. Yet again, the crow lands, watching over you as you sleep before flying off in the morning after you wake.
Odd, but honestly not the weirdest thing you’ve experienced by far.
The next evening you leave your window open. There’s no knock in the morning, and for a brief moment you feel sad. Did you scare away your new friend? But - a glint catches your eye - sitting on the windowsill is a shard of broken glass - a light amber color, likely from a broken bottle.
It becomes a habit. Each evening, the crow perches on the branch outside, and the following morning, it leaves a small trinket on your windowsill. You’ve now collected a few bottle caps, some coins (though, oddly, in different currencies), glass of varying colours, and even a random key. The quality of the items the crow brings seems to increase every visit. You start leaving out pieces of fruit and occasionally strips of meat, which are always taken at some point during the night. It’s all fun and games - until it starts bringing you valuables.
Emeralds, sapphires, golden rings, diamonds; you start a collection that would make Tiffany’s seem like a children’s costume jewelry store. You know some of it definitely belongs to real people, because the news is reporting a ‘string of high-profile thefts’ across the entire fucking world.
You entertain the idea of reporting the valuables as stolen and have a minor breakdown about how to explain ‘it wasn’t me - it was this crow!’
You never bring yourself to do it, though. Finders, keepers, and all that.
There’s something comforting about this crow’s presence. The golden glint in its eyes shines impossibly as you go to sleep, and in that moment you feel treasured.
Leviathan (Envy - an insatiable desire for the unattainable, that which does not belong to you)
When you first return to the human world (after your very much warranted ‘mourning’ period, of course) you decide to go and visit one of your favourite places from your childhood - a beach that’s little more than a cove a few minutes walk from your home. Upon arriving, however, you notice the place is packed, and there’s a pang in your chest when you realize that this isn’t just your place anymore. You snap a picture regardless, and send it to one of the group chats on your DDD.
You continue to return though, hoping to catch a time when the beach is quieter. You have more luck in the mornings than the evenings, and slowly you force yourself to wake earlier and earlier just to catch a moment of peace.
At some point, you mention heading down to the beach to one of your friends. Their face sours, and for a moment you think you said something wrong. Perhaps it was the mention of the early start?
Over the coming weeks and months the beach becomes quieter and quieter; the early risers, joggers, and dog walkers slowly petering off until you’re the sole visitor down by the shore. Sometimes you think you see a glint of bright scales out in the ocean, though it’s far bigger than any fish you know to inhabit the nearby waters.
You continue to bring up the beach to your friends, excited about the return to your quiet, safe solitude. Every time you do so, they close off and regard you coldly.
There’s new owners, they say, no one is allowed down at the cove. They kick out anyone not on the approved list.
Well. That’s bizarre. You haven’t encountered any resistance during your many visits, you tell them. Of course you don’t is the response, and you think you’re maybe imagining the bitterness in their voice.
It’s a pattern you begin to notice - exclusive venues in which you’re always on the invite-list. Priority and pre-sale tickets to the hottest events arriving in your inbox. Every time, garnering the bitter eyes of your relatives and acquaintances. It’s exciting, special, to be the one experiencing all this. Made even more so, knowing that so many desire what you have.
You realize that beach was just the start, though it's definitely your favourite of the lot. It’s become a place just for you. You snap a picture of the sun rising over the waves. This one, you post to your instagram, with a single orange heart.
(You also notice that your luck in the gashapons at the arcade has become insanely good. It could be a coincidence, but…)
Satan (Wrath - to seek vengeance; impatience and revenge)
To be fair, you don’t make it a habit of confronting every person who slights you. You’ve had enough drama in the last year to last you a lifetime, and the last thing you want is to go and create more. You’re typically more of a let bygones be bygones type anyway. (Forgive and forget).
It’s not like your life in the human world has a surplus of people trying to wrong you. Occasionally you’ll be cut off while driving and it annoys you, but you continue on with your day. Sometimes your packages will be delivered to your neighbour, and it takes them a few days to let you know, letting you stew in your anxiety about their apparent arrival in the interim. (Forgive and forget).
Over the next few weeks you start to notice more and more coincidences pop up around the more annoying and troublesome people you interact with. A follower who commented something uncomplimentary in response to one of your posts has their account banned and deleted. The annoying neighbor who often parks in your space has their car totaled the day after you try to ask them again to move their damn vehicle. The professor who uncharitably graded your assignment a low pass because he didn’t like your attitude is now under review and has lost his tenure. (Forgive and ████).
It all comes to a head when you’re passing by one of your neighbours as they move their stuff out of the apartment. There’s an eviction notice pinned to their door. It’s not much of a loss - after all, they were the ones who’d keep your mail long past the point of helpfulness. They snark at you as you pass, making a comment about your somewhat smug air, warning you’ll be next.
You don’t even get the chance to respond before there’s a yell from above, and something is falling and - wow. Who knew a falling flower pot could draw so much blood. That’s definitely going to be a pain to get out of your light shirt. It’s with this annoyance that you ring the emergency services to come and save your unconscious (ex)neighbour from bleeding out. (████ ██ ████)
From that moment on, you’re definitely more aware of the karmic coincidences, for lack of a better term. While you avoid provoking people outright, there is a small part of you that revels in satisfaction when those that inconvenience you are inconvenienced themselves. The severity of these coincidences seems to scale to the impact the other person’s actions have on you. If you take advantage of this sometimes, well. Who could prove any of it?
(Retaliate. Remember.)
Asmodeus (Lust - an intense longing; unbridled sexual or amorous desire)
Sure, you have social media. You’re no luddite, and it was your one tether to the human world while you were stuck in Devildom. You quickly learnt that human memes and demon memes were very much not the same (except for a few bizarre crossovers. Both seem to be obsessed with Orbs).
You never really had a huge following though. You had maybe a couple hundred followers across twitter and instagram, averaging maybe 20 likes and similar interactions per post. That is, until recently.
Seemingly overnight, your follower account on all platforms (including your anonymous tumblr account) has skyrocketed. There’s even a notification in your emails from twitter about verification. Just…. What?
You open your accounts to see if maybe it was a specific mention or throwaway meme that somehow caught the attention of the internet at large. Your latest post was a cute pic taken by Asmo during your final week in Devildom. It’s you from behind, gazing out at the twinkling lake by Dia’s castle. It was posted a few days ago, though - and yet the like counter just keeps ticking up and up. The comments on instagram are nonsensical - lots of hearts and starry eyes and a few more suggestive strings of emoji. Your phone continuously buzzes with notifications, and it’s starting to get overwhelming - so you turn on do-not-disturb.
As a bit of an experiment, you decide to post a quick snap of your bewildered face, captioned “so… did y’all mean to follow me or is this some kind of prank?” - no tags, no emoji.
The effect is pretty much instantaneous. Immediately the notification counters tick up and up and up. There’s a few flattering comments (and a few not-so-flattering ones), and just as many hearts as your previous post. One comment, from an account you don’t know, stands out to you: “Imagine being *this* attractive but also so humble it hurts. Your fave could never.”
Over the next few weeks you continue to post - from selfies to scenic shots to random shower ideas to your thoughts about Succession and why you think cousin Greg is endgame. No matter what you post, it always seems to be a hit. Even that incomprehensible keysmash you accidentally posted to twitter as you fell asleep. There’s even Buzzfeed listicles (“27 times MC stole our hearts with a smile”). Asking your followers doesn’t help either - it seems like overnight you have lodged yourself in the public consciousness as a desirable figure. They all clamor to get your acknowledgement, and you quickly find even the simple act of liking someone else’s post can be cause enough for others to become jealous.
It’s flattering. Really. It's doing wonders for your self-image, getting all these compliments on your photos and selfies. You definitely find yourself starting a few trends here and there, and hey, you're just doing your job to make the world that much more aesthetically desirable.
(Out of your thousands of followers, only one stands out to you. The first to like every post, to comment “YESSSSSS MY LOVE!!”: Asm♥deus.)
Beelzebub (Gluttony - to overindulge and over-consume to the point of wastefulness)
You were pleasantly surprised to find your pantry fully stocked upon your return to the human world. You were expecting to have to clean out the stuff that had inevitably staled in your year away, and restock from scratch. Except, no, you don’t have to because absolutely everything you could ever want is currently filling your kitchen to the point of overflowing. Everything from fine, artisanal products to cheap junk food. It keeps you fed for so long that you find yourself having to chuck out a few fruits, vegetables, and breads that have gone off because you didn’t eat them in time.
You keep expecting to have to go out and replenish the supplies for yourself, but no, the pantry is ever-full. Fresh produce seems to appear out of nowhere, and you never find yourself short of an ingredient when it comes time to start cooking. There’s always just slightly too much - your garbage is often full with uneaten food-waste.
This inexplicable phenomenon continues, and impossibly escalates. There’s random food deliveries during the week on the nights you’re too tired to cook for yourself. Your cravings are instantly satisfied by the appearance of precisely what you were longing for. You think maybe it’s some kind of magic - it’s not out of the question, especially with your powerful friends and lovers. You try not to think about the cost - monetary, or otherwise…
As you’re walking past your favorite bakery, you hear a woman complain that they never seem to have their famous macarons anymore. You overhear the server apologize, and try to explain that the lot are often bought right out of the oven. With a jolt, you realize that those very same macarons are the ones that are stacked up beside your fridge, way more than you could possibly want or eat.
With a guilty jolt, you realize that it hasn’t occurred to you until this point that you could just give away some of the food. There’s no reason for it to sit in your kitchen until it goes off - there’s plenty of people who could appreciate it, after all. And yet…
You don’t approach the woman, or offer any of the macarons. You continue to hoard your food until it goes off. You appreciate the rich, tasty ingredients, and especially enjoy doing things like chucking A-grade marbled steaks haphazardly into the pan for a quick sear, none of the careful preparation it would normally merit.
This is your food. And no one can tell you how to manage it. Nor should they
Belphegor (Sloth - the forgoing of responsibility, to be disinclined towards effort or exertion)
A soft, warm hand cups your face, while another plays with the ends of your hair. Breath, not your own, fans over your lips as he leans in close. “Stay with me, my human.” You crack open your eyes, and for a brief moment, you get a glimpse of a soft, sleepy smile before you feel yourself falling through nothing and you - wake up.
Though you’re not the type to really remember your dreams, you know that they’ve been especially sweet since returning. The fragments that you do remember feel warmer, safer, and more loving than anything you’ve felt while in the human world.
You were already a bit of a homebody before your trip, leaving social engagements early to go home and rest, but now you don’t even bother going out. Not while sleep is calling to you so sweetly.
You find yourself sleeping through your alarms more and more often. Not even the brightest, sunniest day - the type you missed while down in Devildom - could stir within you the interest or energy to be active, to enjoy the fresh air.
None of this matters. In your dreams, you’re with them, with him. The longer you sleep, the more you remember.
Your breath is slow and deep, and you nestle your head into the warm, living pillow. His hands ghost over your sides and you hear him hum in contentment. You try to lean into his touch, to feel him. “Lucifer told me that I need to stop doing this,” he says, and you shudder. That’s not right - you don’t want him to stop. You don’t want to lose him. You feel his smile against your forehead. “He says you need more than just sleep. That you’re wasting away.” You try to tell him that Lucifer is wrong, you’re fine, you just need more sleep. But even now, in this place of dreams, the energy doesn’t come to you. All you’re able to do is sink into him even more. “That wouldn’t be so bad, though. You’ll become mine forever. No one could make you leave.”
You wake after that dream feeling like you haven’t slept at all. There’s a tiredness in your very being, and all you want to do is roll over on your pillow and return to him. What job, what, school, what hobbies? Nothing interests you anymore. You miss him, you miss them so damn much.
Nonetheless, through some strength that you’re not even sure is your own, you pull yourself out of bed and into the shower.The hot water and the softly scented soaps that remind you of Asmo rejuvenate you and you begin your day with a breakfast that would make even Beel feel full.
The next night, you go to sleep, and you do not dream. Nor the next.
It’s months before you close your eyes and you feel his touch. In that time you’ve been beset by kleptomaniac crows, have become somewhat of an internet personality, and have chucked out more stale loaves of bread than you could ever know what to do with.
“You need some time off. Both of us do. Come on, we can sleep like this, together…”
Lucifer (Pride - to put yourself before and above others)
It takes you longer than you’d ever be willing to admit that the reason why all these strange occurrences are happening is because either consciously or subconsciously, there are seven extremely powerful entities who are missing you.
You try to distract yourself from that thought by focusing more intently on your studies. A passage is circled in one of the textbooks you pick up from the library, unwilling to pay full price for an elective subject’s resource. Religious Studies, because if nothing else it’ll be a bit of a laugh. “From pride, all other sins flourish. It is the father of all sins.”
It hits you all at once.
The hoarding of gems and wealth and your reluctance to part with it. The coveting of your favourite place, and the desire to keep it all to yourself. The satisfaction of your enemies those that annoy you facing retribution. Reveling in the admiration of strangers. The inclination to over-indulge and the refusal to share. The assumption that outside of yourself, nothing else matters, not a single one of your responsibilities. These all are in response to the world bending to the whims of your loves, but your own feelings, your attitude stems from your Pride. After all, who else can claim they hold the loyalty of angels, demons, and immortals? Who else bears the love and affection of all the Avatars of Sin?
(How very prideful of you to assume that you could live unchanged after that year, to return to a life that doesn’t really feel like yours to begin with)
The best thing, the worst thing is that you’re so comfortable with this type of thinking. Even now you realize that hey, this is probably Lucifer talking, you wouldn’t give any of it up. It’s comforting. It reminds you of them. It makes you feel loved.
(When you return to Devildom, you never quite work up the courage to ask the brothers whether any of it was deliberate or not. Lucifer does mention in a quiet moment that they were all a mess, even him, without your presence. They were missing something, someone. “It was sub-optimal, of course,” he says, “which is something we should rectify so that it doesn’t happen a second time.” “I thought both heaven and hell have rules against humans living here on a more permanent basis?” “I’ve been to war against heaven for the sake of the ones I love. Between myself and my brothers, neither heaven nor hell could stand against us should I have to go to war again.”)
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itsthesinbin · 4 days ago
Art Block (Leviathan/GN!Reader)
Joined the Devildom Den yesterday when they were accepting people and already a good writing prompt came out of it :)
Leviathan’s a good artist, but has some Very Specific Poses he needs that he can’t find very good references for, leading to a bad case of art block. You, of course, offer your services.
If you like it, reblog it please!
Warnings: Suggestive (but not nsft), but otherwise no warning needed.
Ever since you found out about Leviathan’s art hobby, you’d almost demand to see his finished pieces. Not that it would take much convincing. Leviathan was more than happy to share his art with someone who was enthusiastic about his work!
Recently, though, Leviathan had hit a harsh art block. It seemed everything he tried to draw looked terrible! You tried to assure him otherwise, but the sketches would always be deleted or thrown out after your conversations.
“Ugh- it just… It just feels like I can’t even draw a fucking hand anymore, let alone the actual body,” Leviathan vented to you one day while you were both playing Minecraft. You were both in his room of course, just on different platforms. You took his console because you wanted to veg on the beanbags, while he was on his computer off behind you. You leaned back, looking at his upside down form from your seat. His brows were furrowed in frustration as he was furiously fighting off a skeleton.
You sat back up, blinking as the blood that had rushed to your head went back into the rest of you. You hummed softly as you thought, going back to building your little house.
“Well… poses are fucking you up, right? Do you want me to model for you so you can get the exact poses you want?” You heard him stop playing, his chair creaking as it turned. When you moved to look at him properly, he was staring directly at you. His cheeks were flushed ever so slightly, but he had an excited look on his face.
“You’d let me-?! Really?!” You snickered slightly, nodding your confirmation. Leviathan immediately abandoned the game, saving real quick so you two would have your progress for later. He began babbling to you, telling you he had to get a couple costumes out for you to wear and pose in. You sighed, amused, as you turned off the console. Guess game time would happen later.
You stood up, nearly falling over from how hard he shoved the first costume into your hands. You laughed a little as you headed to change. Leviathan grabbed his phone, making sure there was enough space to take as many pictures as he needed. He had quite a few poses in mind, and you knew you were in for a Time.
“Okay- just like this-!” He handed you a sword- thankfully it was fake and light enough for you to hold- and positioned you exactly how he wanted. Sword pointed to the ground, with your hands resting on the hilt. He tilted your head down, and asked you to look up at him through your lashes. You could see a tint of red on his cheeks again, but he moved back to take the photos.
You heard the shutter click a few times, before he came back to reposition you. He moved you so you were in mid-swing, hands shaking slightly as he held your waist to move your torso as needed. You couldn’t help but glance at him, and he was pointedly Not Looking At Your Face.
More pictures were taken, and he let you move for a minute. Suddenly, a grin spread across his face as he dashed over to his closet. After pulling out another costume, he let out a “BRB” as he ran to change. You couldn’t help but snicker slightly at his enthusiasm. It was always so cute watching him.
“Alright- I need some duo poses! Just follow my lead!” He set his camera on the longest timer, coming over to you. He had your sword against his, seeming like you were clashing weapons. He towered over you, having you lean back as if he was starting to over power you. He fought back the urge to move away as the shutter went off.
“Okay! Now I need one where you’re, uh…” Leviathan trailed off, eyes widening as he realized what he was about to ask you to do. He stuttered, curling in on himself nervously. You looked up at him with a small smile, knowing he was trying to work up the nerve to ask you for the next post.
“I need you to, uh… To stand ov- over me… like you’ve beat me in a fight-” he finally got out, cheeks bright red as he went to set the timer. You nodded, moving to let him get into position first. He laid on his back, sprawled out as if he was knocked onto his back. You stepped forward, grinning mischievously as you took your spot over him.
Without waiting for him to make a comment, you planted your foot on his chest. His breath hitched as you pointed the tip of your sword against his neck. With a tilt of the weapon, his head was lifted ever so lightly. His adam’s apple bobbed with a harsh swallow as he stared up at you. You couldn’t help but smirk down at him as the shutter went off.
As soon as the sword was moved, Leviathan got up so fast he almost knocked you onto your ass. You bit back a laugh, not wanting to TRULY embarrass him, as you waited for him to finish going through the pictures he took. You could see how tense he was as you put the fake sword away. While he was busy, you went to the other costume he had picked for you.
Holding up, it was easy to see it was a more… risque piece. Clothing torn in very strategic spots, exposing flesh in a tantalizing way. Aside from the rips and tears, it was nearly identical to the first. A companion piece, it seemed. Maybe for more lewd works.
Considering the first costume fit you so well, both of these were made for you in mind. You got a wicked smile. Oh, Leviathan. You naughty, naughty demon. You slipped away while he was still busy to change into the new costume.
“So, what did you want me to model with this?” He let out a “huh”, freezing when he caught sight of you. Your chest was nearly on full display, one of your pant legs torn clean off to expose the limb in question. You decided to tousle your hair to make it seem like you were in a scuffle, and discarded the overcoat completely. You grinned as you stepped over.
“Maybe an alternate outcome where my character gets beaten, and gets… taken prisoner.” Leviathan, completely caught off guard, nodded dumbly in agreement. You smiled, moving past him to take your position on the ground. He set up his phone on its tripod again, nearly dropping the device three times as he kept looking at you.
You sat on the ground, leaning back on an arm with your legs slightly bent. An arm shielded your face as if you were injured. He simply took a few pictures of that pose, trying to keep his breathing under control.
“Wouldn’t be true to the scene without you in here, you know,” you told him. Leviathan froze again, face going bright red. He DID need these poses, but… how badly did he need them?
His legs made the decision for him, as he stumbled over to you after setting the timer. He took a similar pose to the one before, except he was above you with a foot on your stomach and fists clenched at his sides. He ignored the trembling in his arms as the shutter sounded.
He went to reset the timer, coming back over. Slowly, he kneeled over you. Your hips were trapped between his legs as his hands all but slammed your shoulders into the ground. You grunted slightly from the impact, making his claws dig into your skin. One of your hands went to his wrist, while the other went up to his head. In a last moment decision, you grabbed the hair at the back of his head. He couldn’t stop the pretty moan that came out of his mouth at the action. You two almost missed the camera noise because of it.
“ALRIGHT THAT’S ENOUGH THANK YOU,” Leviathan screeched as soon as he realized the camera went off. He moved off of you at record speed, grabbing his camera and running to his bathroom. He yelled that you can change in there and leave, that you two would play Minecraft again another time.
You knew pushing him to do more was a bad idea- he was already freaked out, and flirting more would push him further away. You couldn’t help but laugh as you changed, though.
“Call me again if you need anymore help, Levi,” you called out, walking loud enough to indicate you were leaving. You didn’t miss the flustered whine he let out, having thought you left already, as you shut the door. You laughed as you headed back to your room.
He was too fun to tease.
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itsthesinbin · 6 days ago
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chag chanukah sameach let’s get lit 🕎
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itsthesinbin · 6 days ago
all other bugs: oh shit gotta avoid this giant fucking monster
moths: time to fly directly into this lady’s mouth
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