#LUCIFER HIMSELF was gonna come wreak havoc or something

[wallgirl]

All characters reactions to MC stealing a car and doing donuts in a parking lot until they spin out, leading to their arrest (Headcanons)

Lucifer

What in the world were you thinking?

Great. Lucifer had had hopes you might be smarter and more responsible than his brothers, or at least less of a handful - but now those hopes were dashed.

Only bails you out quickly because the whole Devildom doesn't need to catch wind that one of the first human exchange students is sitting in jail. Otherwise, if it were up to him, you'd be ruminating in your cell for a day or two.

You're placed on lockdown, with special charms on all entrances and windows to the HoL to monitor your coming and going, and to keep you home during the night.

Just another headache for him. Not only does he have to keep other demons from killing you, he has to keep YOU from killing you.

He's only keeping his patience for Diavolo's sake. But once this is all over, boy, does Diavolo owe him big time.

Mammon

What the hell were ya thinking?!

If you're gonna do something like that, you could've at least brought him along too.

Lucifer beats him for this little speech and sends him back to react more appropriately.

Okay, look, human, you're not the only one with their neck on the line here. I am supposed to be guarding you, after all. So could ya try to rein it in... so, you know, Lucifer doesn't kill me?

In private, he'll tell you that he doesn't blame you for seeking a thrill, but there are other, less deadly ways to do so. He's willing to show you around, just don't tell Lucifer!

Leviathan

Nani?!?!?

Completely caught off-guard. He's seen people do donuts in some of his movies, and he knows that if the stunt goes wrong, humans don't really walk away from it unscathed.

A little wary of you. If you're willing to risk your own life and break the law for some adrenaline, maybe you're not quite as stable as he thought...

Satan

Mhm. And you thought that was a good idea why?

He's finding it hard to grasp this level of stupidity. He'll question you for a little bit, trying to understand what thought process led you to thinking that that was a smart thing to do.

Entertained by Lucifer's scramble to sort out the problems you've caused. At least there’s that.

Tempted to egg you on to do something else... Just to watch Lucifer sweat.

Asmodeus

Eh?!

Asmo knows all about the need to get one's kicks and thrills... but this is excessive. Dying isn't cute; too messy. And jail wreaks havoc on the skin.

Wonders if you really understand the weight of what you did. Like, you do know you could've gotten seriously injured from that, right?

Scolds you lightly for not thinking about the consequences. You could've ended up with injuries on your cute face!

If you want to feel a real rush, he knows just the thing~

Beelzebub

Very disappointed at first that you didn't think to invite him. He loves donuts!!

When it's made clear that you didn't mean food, he becomes greatly concerned. Why would you do something like that? Were you upset? Was this some kind of self-destructive behavior?

Asks you to promise him that you won't do something so foolish like that again. He hates the thought of you getting hurt.

For a while afterwards, whenever you're going out, he'll ask what you're up to, just to make sure you're not going to do something dangerous like that again.

Belphegor

Doesn't even want to deal with this.

Doesn't even get out of bed to address it until Beel asks him to say something to you.

He tells you in no uncertain terms that you're an idiot for what you did. But it's not his place to really scold you for it. You're an adult, you can do as you please, and you'll have to face the results of it.

He is actually disturbed that you would do something so dangerous, though he's trying not to show it. He goes around himself to check the charms Lucifer's placed... and adds a few of his own where Lucifer may have missed.

May ask you with a dry grin when he sees you going out if you're headed out to do donuts again.

Diavolo

Haha Um, okay.

This really wasn't something he'd planned for. Diavolo may be a demon, but he understands that humans have a general respect for the law and their own safety, so this throws him for a loop.

He won't really scold you or get mad, he's just really concerned. He'll ask if someone goaded you into doing it, or if you're going through something mentally/emotionally that led you to do this.

Once he’s sure there aren’t any special circumstances, he asks you, regardless of what your human customs may be, to please respect the laws of the Devildom... and please, don’t be so reckless.

Now he has to worry about one of the first exchange students of his program being a loose cannon. He makes sure there are eyes on you as much as possible to prevent you from doing something else in the future.

Barbatos

Ah... well, this wasn't a future he'd checked for.

Murder? War? Civil unrest? Sure, he'd checked for multiple futures involving MC. Driving recklessly and doing donuts in parking lots? Not so much.

Slightly amused by the oddness of the situation, but he knows your erratic behavior could lead to problems for Diavolo if they don't keep a handle on things. He's on guard now, constantly keeping an eye on the ever shifting future.

Tempted to ask you whenever he sees you if you've broken any more laws recently. He'll never admit it, though.

Solomon

Well, isn't this interesting. His fellow exchange student appears to be a little bit bonkers.

He finds it entertaining, to say the least. He asks you if you have any more shenanigans planned for the future.

Of course, Solomon isn't stupid, and he knows that you getting yourself hurt wouldn't bode well for the exchange program. If he does catch you doing something dangerous, he'll do what he can to ensure no harm comes to you.

In fact, he may even ask to come with you. Solomon likes a good thrill himself, and if he's with you, there's no way you'll get hurt.

Simeon

...What?

Simeon had already caught on that you were a bit... reckless, but this took the cake.

Wonders if Diavolo knew that you had these tendencies before bringing you to the Devildom.

Will not be letting you spend much time around Luke alone, or just in general - you’re not a good influence for an angel-in-training.

Luke

Why would you do something so dangerous?!

He’s super upset that you would do something so risky just to have some fun.

He’ll yell at you more than anybody else, simply because he’s worried and upset and doesn’t know how else to express it.

Give him a pat on the head and promise him you won’t do something like that ever again, (even if you don’t mean it) because that’s the only way his tears will stop.

Takes to spying on you whenever he can to make sure you’re staying out of trouble.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke

[ibelongtowrath]

Come Find Me - Mammon x Reader

reuploading cause of tags lol let’s hope they work this time, also sorry i forgot to put the “read more” oop

Tags/Warnings: angst, lots of angst & mild cursing Word Count: 3.9k Notes: I tried switching perspectives, which are indicated by the dashed lines. I hope it doesn't make it too confusing! I was listening to “Give You Up” by Asking Alexandria, like really listening to the lyrics when I was smacked in the face struck by inspiration for some angsty Mammon. So, as I do, I dreamed up a scenario. This took me so long to write, and holy crap. Hope you love it!

Lyrics taken from 'Give You Up' by Asking Alexandria. 

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11 months later.

“I wasted so much time on wasting time Made a million excuses, told myself I'm above it Now there's symphony where there used to be Nothing but silence, and I'm never gonna give you up”

Pulling open the closet door to find that one shirt you remember buying, but can’t for the life of you remember where it is, you wince. Clothes and shoes are strewn everywhere, organization severely neglected as of late. You hadn’t really been inspired to straighten out your mess, not since--

No. You shake your head, suppressing the memories. Not now, not for a long time...until it stops feeling like a hot knife is carving your heart in half whenever his name flashes across your mind.

Your eyes scan and assess the mess, landing on a black duffel bag shoved into the corner, emblazoned with an all-too-familiar gold badge. Your eyes close briefly, letting the familiar icy pain wash over you, as if you’ve been walking into the winter ocean until your entire body is submerged. You stare at the bag until your vision blurs, surprised to find yourself blinking away tears as you come back to reality.

You told yourself you wouldn’t leave the Devildom with any regrets, but you did.

“Okay. Well. We’re just going to deal with this now, and bury it,” you tell yourself, needing to hear yourself say it out loud as your own affirmation.

It was finally time to face the anguish head on, instead of compartmentalizing it, telling yourself you would process it eventually. Picking up the bag, you slowly back out of the closet, a torrent of emotions beginning to well up inside you, threatening to wreak havoc. You close your eyes. Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Step back, and lean against the wall, subdue the onslaught.

Tossing the bag onto your bed, you sit beside it, hand reaching slowly to grasp the zipper. Once undone, you reach inside and pull out your R.A.D uniform, skimming the small buttons embedded in the stitching. You smile softly as you remember Asmo pouting every time you complained about how ill-fitting it was. Your hand moves to the golden R.A.D. medallion, your fingers dancing over the hard, intricately grooved surface.

Folding the uniform and setting it aside, you reach into the bag once more, fingers brushing something hard and flat. Confused, you lift your hand, finding yourself grasping your D.D.D.. Your eyes study the yellow smart phone, remembering how he insisted...Fuck. The memories begin to crash into the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, Lucifer, ya gotta give her a yellow one! She’s gotta match with me! N-not that it’s all that important or anything...” Mammon blushed, looking down towards the floor.

“I-I just think...yellow’s a good color to have. That’s all. Symbolizes a lot ‘a different good things. Luck, lotsa Grimm...thank me later.”

You didn’t know it at the time, but that was the start of your undoing.

You came to the Devildom harboring resentment. Why the hell did you have to get uprooted from your life to serve someone else’s agenda? And not only that, but you had to live with seven fallen demon brothers, many of whom barely hesitated as they considered killing you. But...then there was Mammon.

It was always him, even when you refused to acknowledge it. The first demon you made a pact with. You slide your shirt down your arm, glancing at your now-bare shoulder, remembering the slight jolt of electricity as the sigil was emblazoned into your skin. You smile softly as you remember his persistent boasting, nearly on a daily basis:

“I’m Y/N’s first man! So get your paws off her!”

Mammon. Always so stand-offish about his feelings, but so were you. That resentment you bore dug deep into your core. Your heart was indifferent. You challenged Lucifer and the other demons without inhibition, consistently getting yourself nearly killed. You disobeyed the rules and expectations designated to you as one of the representatives of the human world. You did it all with no qualms about the potential consequences, even if it could have resulted in your death. You had given up. You didn’t give a fuck anymore, so bring it on.

They all gave a fuck about you, though, even if it was mostly because Lord Diavolo forbade the killing of the human students. But Mammon…

It was more than that for him. He grabbed your hand in the face of danger, thinking he could protect you. Despite his constant denial of how he felt for you, you could see it. Not only that, your feelings mirrored his; but you were so stubborn, you were headstrong. You were not going to let yourself fall, especially not for the Avatar of Greed. You had convinced yourself that he would be a selfish lover, always putting himself first. All he would do is take from you. After all, the demon was in love with his goddamn credit card.

You were so wrong.

Turning the phone over and over in your hands aimlessly, you remember it all. How easy it was for you to keep falling back into the darkness within you, the anger and resentment you bore deep in your heart. It was easy, it was familiar. Until...

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Mammon remembers that night. He’s replayed so many times in his head, there isn’t a single detail he can’t remember.

As usual, his brothers teased him relentlessly; this time, they had gone too far.

“Oh! Y/N, I dropped my fork by your foot, would you mind being a dear and grabbing it for me?” Asmo asked, innocently enough.

Mammon had looked up upon hearing your name. He watched as you bent down and struggled to pick up the dropped fork, too far away to grab from your seat. His gaze remained on you as you stood, bending behind you to pick it up; then, Asmo lifting his hand to give you a playful slap on the ass. Then back to you, your beautiful lips upturned in a playful, flirty smile as you laughed and handed Asmo the fork.

Mammon’s anger blazed, his vision tinged red. It was like a knee-jerk reaction, the movements required no thought. He stood from his chair, nearly kicking it in, half-eaten plate of food abandoned. Wordlessly, he took his leave, the torrent of emotions welled up inside threatening to erupt. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to react, that it was only going to add more fuel to the fire for their teasing.

But he didn’t care. They took it too far, touching his human like that. He had laid his claim for you thousands of times, spelled it out, and everyone knew. Yet, it didn’t stop them. Mammon was forever the brother ridiculed and mocked most, despite being the second-oldest; his brothers’ contempt for him was never-ending. The constant jeers and derision about himself and his sin, he had put up with for millennia; but their taunting and blatant disregard of his feelings for you?

He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Mammon was on autopilot, barely feeling the movements as he walked swiftly throughout the halls of the House of Lamentation. He doesn’t even recall if he took a single breath on his journey back to his bedroom. He gripped the doorknob of his room, knuckles turning white as he nearly ripped it out while turning it. He stepped inside, slamming the door with a residual bang!, so loud that surely even Lord Diavolo could hear it in his castle.

His feet moved him to his bed, where he sat on the edge, head in his hands. He clenched his jaw, hard, in an attempt to subdue the anger pulsing within him. It wasn’t only anger, however, that was welled up inside. There was humiliation, resentment, and feelings of hopelessness; all directed at himself. Mammon clenched harder, hands beginning to shake as the emotions swelled furiously.

No matter what he did, he felt like he failed. He felt an overwhelming desire to protect what was his, and he had even failed at that. Mammon isn’t sure how long he stayed that way, caught in the middle of the emotional thunderstorm, staring at his hands but not actually seeing.

In his trance, he barely heard the knock on his door; three light taps, then one loud one. Your signature knock. It didn’t even register in his mind. He wishes he looked up to see you when you walked across his room to his bed. He only noticed when you grabbed his arm, gently, in that way your touch always was. He lifted his head slowly, the feelings of hopelessness finally starting to ebb when his melancholy gaze met your serene one.

There you stood, in all your beautiful glory. Your hair hung in glossy rivulets down your back, a stray piece hanging in front of your face; Mammon wanted nothing more than to reach up and tuck it behind your ear. Your face, your beautiful face, wore an expression that simultaneously made his heart race and feel peaceful.

“Mammon.”

You spoke his name, and in those two syllables, and he knew. He knew your soul shined so brightly in the darkness of the Devildom. He knew you were the light to all of his darkness within.

He knew he was irrevocably in love with you.

Mammon felt your grip tighten on his arm, ever so slightly. He stood before you, realizing your close proximity, and immediately felt the heat rush to his cheeks, tinting them with a rosy blush.

“Y-yeah? What do ya want, Y/N?” he asked, looking off to the side. He reached his arm up, rubbing the back of his head. “Sheesh, you didn’t even tell me you were comin’. A little advanced notice would be nice, ya know.”

You didn’t even answer. Before he could react, you had pulled Mammon into a hug, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Wha-?!” Mammon yelped. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, human?!”

He recoiled at first, arms hanging down at his sides, unfamiliar with the feeling of such affection...such love. Rarely was he ever shown such things, especially from his brothers. He hesitantly reached his arms up, wrapping them around your body, the soft texture of your hair under his fingers.

He leaned his head down, his cheek resting on the top of your head while he stroked your hair.

And then, you said it. You spoke the words that made him come undone completely.

“I love you, Mammon.”

Mammon’s body stilled for a moment. It felt as though his heart had stopped completely. The words caught in his throat, unable to speak, fingers threaded into your hair. He felt you squeeze him harder, turning your head to look up at him. His eyes met yours.

You had come here to the Devildom, and at first, Mammon was indifferent. He would have gladly sold your possessions for some extra cash with no hesitation. He insulted you, he acted like an arrogant fool. You did risky things, you talked back. And yet, you somehow were able to make your way into his ice-cold, tsundere heart.

He sunk back down to the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him. You sat upon his lap, legs on either side of his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush to him, fingers splayed across your back. He pushed your hair to the side, burying his head into your neck, lips against your soft skin. All he wanted in that moment was to breathe you in. He swallowed, pressing a kiss into your neck, hoping, praying that you wouldn’t react negatively.

It’s hard to remember the exact sequence that followed. The only thing Mammon knows is your lips pressed against his in a deep kiss, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. He pulled away, grinning, then kissed you again, and again, and again, his hands roaming under your shirt, across your back.

“Shit, Y/N. I guess you have me feeling some type-a way, too,” he whispered, kissing and biting the delicate skin of your neck, an overwhelming desire to leave his mark on you.

It hadn’t gone any further that night, and Mammon had been okay with it. He had walked you back to your room, grabbing you and kissing you deeply before you went in. He was sure the grin hadn’t left his face the entire rest of the night.

It was essentially the way you and Mammon had spent your final weeks in the Devildom. Stolen kisses here and there. Grabbing your hand in the hallways of R.A.D., lacing his fingers through yours. Spending the entire night together, not sleeping, watching movies on his projector or him teaching you how to play poker. Buying you little gifts using Goldie, much to Lucifer’s chagrin. He wanted to give you all that he could, to provide for you.

He held you close whenever he got the opportunity, stroking your hair, ingraining every feeling of your touch into his memory so he would never forget. He knew he was running out of time to be yours, to give you all of him. Mammon had never been so happy.

Then, that fateful day arrived. The day you were going back to the human world.

Mammon could hardly look at you when the time came, too afraid his emotions would well to the surface and tip over. He finally lifted his gaze to yours, thousands of unspoken words etched into the space between you, visible only to you and he. You had never spoken of a plan for the future, too painful to think about. He regretted all the time wasted, kicking himself for not telling you his feelings sooner.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t have left at all.

Mammon didn’t embrace you before the ceremony to transport you back began, knowing that once he did, he would never be able to let you go. He watched the light flash, as bright as your beautiful soul, taking you away with it, leaving nothing in its wake. The pain of losing you was like a knife plunged deep into his heart, twisting back and forth.

And then, you were gone.

Gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gone.

And then, Mammon was gone.

“Mammon.”

You speak his name out loud, for the first time since you had arrived back. You still for a second, the unfamiliar syllables passing over your lips. You hope he’ll appear suddenly, as if summoned. But of course, he doesn’t.

And he never will, not again.

The tears fall freely now, a gut-wrenching sob wracking your body. The anguish crashes over you as all the emotions and pent-up grief finally break through the dam you had built deep inside. You fall to the side of your bed, gripping the D.D.D. tightly, knuckles turning white from the effort, as if the phone holds the power to bring Mammon back to you.

You’re unsure of how much time passes before the tears finally begin to subside, opening your eyes once more, adjusting to the sudden brightness; the feeling of it unwelcome, as you had learned to cherish the dark in the Devildom. The false sense of comforting dark you felt when you closed your eyes was erased each morning with the unrelenting rise of the sun.

You lift your hand, the yellow phone still gripped tightly within. And in a moment of hopefulness, or desperation (perhaps both), you press a button, gasping as the phone lights up. Though you shouldn’t be surprised; you remember Mammon telling you he put a spell on it so that it would hold a charge long after you took it off the charger, essentially always staying on.

So you could talk to him whenever you needed it.

Fingers moving faster than your brain can compute, you open your messages with Mammon, feeling the knife twist in your gut once more as you scroll through them. You shake your head furiously, willing yourself to stop, and focus. Your fingers dance across the digital keyboard as you compose a new message.

I love you, Mammon. Come find me.

Send. You hear the all-too-familiar whoosh sound of the message sending, watching it pop up onto the screen.You stare at the phone for God knows how long, willing a notification to sound off, unsure of why you’re feeling so hopeful.

The reply never comes.

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Mammon stares at his phone in disbelief. He reads the message, then stands, beginning to pace around the room. He has to be seeing things. He has to be. He’s convinced.

There is no way he just received a message from you, in the human world. Especially not one telling him that you love him and to come find you.

His fingers fly across the screen, furiously typing a reply to you, pressing send.

Error! Retry?

“What?!” Mammon exclaims, pressing “retry” over and over and over again.

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

“This piece ‘a junk!” he yells, furious. The feeling of anguish washes over him as he realizes you won’t get a reply from him, picturing you sad yet hopeful, staring at your screen. He finds himself leaving his room, legs moving automatically as they bring him to the large double doors of the last place he ever wants to be.

“Oi! Lucifer! Open up right now! It’s an emergency!” Mammon yells, pounding on the door.

Hearing an exasperated sigh on the other side of the doors, Mammon continues to pound relentlessly.

“Lucifer! Open up-” Mammon’s words are cut off as Lucifer opens the door, a pained expression on his face.

“How can I help you, Mammon?” Lucifer asks, oozing contempt.

Mammon storms past him into the office, beginning to open up drawers, sorting through files of papers.

“Lucifer! Where the heck’s Y/N’s info? I need it. Where is it?!”

“Mammon,” Lucifer replies cooly, “what is this all about?”

“It’s Y/N! She texted me! She texted me from the human world. Can ya believe it?! She told me to come find her. I have to go to her, Lucifer, I have to!”

“Mammon, calm down. Explain everything to me.”

Mammon shoves the phone in Lucifer’s face, panic etched into his voice as he recounts the story, impatience creeping in to his demeanor. He has to get to you, and he has to get to you now.

Lucifer nods, holding his gloved hand under his chin as he thinks aloud.

“Mammon, you will have to be patient. I will speak to Diavolo, and see if he will grant you permission to leave the Devildom for a few days. Unfortunately, we do not have an exact location for Y/N. I can only give you the general area of where she lives. You will have to hope that she has remained living there, or close to the area.”

“What?! What are ya tryin’ to say, that I won’t be able to find her?!” Mammon yells in disbelief. “Of course I’ll find her. She told me to! And I can’t wait, I gotta get to her now! I can’t text her back, can’t let her know I got it…”

“I know how important she is to you, Mammon,” Lucifer says, nodding his head.

“Like hell ya do! Have you ever loved anyone that much? Or anything?”

“Mammon. I will speak to Diavolo immediately, and he will set everything in motion. It is still likely you will have to wait until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning…,” Mammon repeats, trailing off. “Y/N, I’m comin’ to ya. Just hang on one more day. Please, babe…”

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You find yourself at your favorite mall the next day, hardly remembering the drive there, as if you were on autopilot.

As you enter, you stand still for a moment, closing your eyes and inhaling briefly, taking in the sounds: the tinny music filtering through the speakers, other shoppers exclaiming to one another over a new collection in a store, somebody sipping their iced coffee noisily.

You had told Mammon about coming here quite often during those last few weeks. One night in particular, the two of you had lain on his bed, holding one another close, telling each other everything. You hadn’t cared if it was trivial, you wanted to know everything there was to know. Often, you had imagined coming with him here; holding hands, dragging him into all your favorite stores, trying on clothes.

Now, that will never happen.

You shake the negative thought from your mind, fighting as you feel the corners of your lips begin to tug downwards. Turning yourself to the right, you decide to head to your favorite bubble tea stand, smiling softly to yourself. Another memory you had shared with Mammon. Rounding the corner, a figure hunched over on the soft bench near the bubble tea stand stops you dead in your tracks.

Tousled white hair, orange-tinted lenses in his glasses. A brown leather jacket, striped with white across and at the collar, a fitted black t-shirt underneath.

No. No way. Your mind is playing tricks on you, Y/N, you think to yourself.

You walk hesitantly up to him, stopping a few feet away, watching as he notices your shoes, then moves his head up to meet your gaze, that adorable lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he stands.

“Knew I’d find ya here, Y/N. Lucifer didn’t believe me, that jerk,” he drawls.

“M-...Mammon?!” you exclaim, not caring who hears. You barely feel the movements as you throw yourself into his embrace. “H-how?!”

“Ya told me to come find ya. So I found ya.”

Gripping the collar of his jacket tightly, you lay your head on his chest, tears streaming furiously down your face. Mammon lifts your head, cupping your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. No tears ruinin’ that pretty face. Unless they’re happy tears. In which case, cry away, I guess. But your makeups’ runnin’ down your face,” Mammon tells you, and you grin through them.

“How did you know to find me here?” you ask him as you pull away, brushing more tears away as you swallow.

“I remembered you tellin’ me about it. How you liked to come here when you weren’t feelin’ all that great,” he answers, draping an arm over your shoulder. “I tried to answer ya back, but my stupid D.D.D. wouldn’t let me. I thought ya might be sad, so I figured I’d try ya here.”

You laugh, grin growing wider.

“I love you, Mammon.”

He pulls you into another tight embrace, pressing you flush to him, lips crashing against yours in a deep kiss. You close your eyes, savoring every second of it before pulling away, eyes wide. You laugh once more as he pulls you close to him again, gasping a bit in surprise as his tongue darts out to dance with yours.

“Mammon, we’re in public!” you hiss, though you’re smiling against his lips.

“Don’t care,” Mammon retorts, kissing you again. “I have ya here with me now. And I ain’t ever gonna give you up. Never again.”

“In my darkest of days I've got a light now to show me the way It's like I've found my place And the world doesn't feel the same”

#obey me mammon #mammon obey me #obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me! mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #mammon avatar of greed #obey me swd #swd obey me #mammon #mammon swd #swd mammon

[reclusiveprincessofsharks]

Say You Love Me

AsmoxGN!Reader (Lowkey hints of SatanxReader)

Word count: 1,180

Based off this:

Running. You were always running it seemed. Running between classes, and tasks, and brothers’ rooms. 

You knew it was your choice to keep yourself this busy so you didn’t mind it. After all not everyone decided to have more than one boyfriend. So far you found yourself a partner to Mammon, Levi, Beel, and most recently Asmo. You had a feeling this list would only continue to grow as you got closer to each brother. Boyfriends aside, you also had your studies and friendships to juggle.

Right now you were running through the cold halls of the House of Lamentation to a study session with Satan; the brother most likely to become your next boyfriend based on how things were going between the two of you. 

You shook that thought from your head with a blush dusting your cheeks. It was time to study. NOT time to be swept off your feet yet again. You had an important test coming up that you didn’t want to get anything less than a B on to maintain your streak of B’s this semester. If you did get anything less you had a sneaking suspicion that Lucifer would say that you were not doing your part to uphold the honor of Lord Diavolo.

You skid to a halt in front of the large double doors of the library. You just barely made it on time for your study date. Satan greeted you with his beautiful smile and it made your heart melt. You took a seat next to him at the table near the fireplace. After settling your nerves that always seemed to start up around him you dove right into studying.

About 20 minutes into your study session your D.D.D. started ringing. Asmo’s gorgeous face popped up.

“Hi babe. What’s up?” You asked distractedly. “Y/N where are you?? I thought we were going on a shopping date today!” Asmo drew his words out in that way he does when he’s upset. He sounds upset enough to be stomping his foot like a toddler.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes widened. Fuck. You double booked yourself.

“Shit Asmo I’m so sorry. I accidentally double booked myself. I’m studying with Satan right now.” You tried to sound as apologetic as possible. You could practically hear his heart break on the other side of the call.

You knew something like this would be inevitable despite your best efforts to avoid it. You kept a physical planner on your person, an online calendar in your D.D.D., and posted sticky notes everywhere in your room to remind you of everything you had planned with all the boys in your life. God why did you have so many boys??

“How could you forget about me? I am the embodiment of Lust and you forgot our date?!” You knew he was making that rare angry face, but his words were tinged with sadness.

“I know you are my darling. You are the most stunning being and I’m lucky to have you.” You hated yourself at the thought that you had upset him. The only way this could be worse is if you had done this to Levi. Thankfully Asmo was less prone to phasing into his demon form and wreaking havoc than Levi.

“Darling… May I take you out to Ristorante Six tonight? I know it’s not the same as going shopping, but I want to see you.” You hoped this would help to bandage his wounded heart. “Let me spoil you.” You added lovingly.

“Of course you want to see me. How could you not?” Asmo said in a sing-song tone. “Fine I will let you spoil me. I’ll see you tonight.” He sounded mostly like himself again although you knew better than to assume he was perfectly fine. You had no doubt the saying “Hell hath no fury like a lover scorned” must have come from one of Asmo’s previous partners wronging him. You knew what he was capable of and it wasn’t pretty.

Asmodeus was the Avatar of Lust. He was always wanted and desired. He didn’t know how to feel when you showed up and were unable to be charmed by him. You knew it had damaged his ego a bit when he realized you didn’t fawn all over him immediately the second he appeared before you. Even though he tried to hide it, it made him nervous possibly to the point of being insecure.

“Ok thank you. I’ll see you tonight.” You sighed out a breath of relief that he was allowing you this chance to fix your mistake. Asmo was never above being petty and hurtful, but he tried around you. He genuinely cared for you and wanted your relationship to be healthy and last a long time.

After you hung up the phone a stiff silence settled in the air. Satan had not looked up from his notes in some time and his smile had faded. God did you hurt him too? Fuck today was not your day.

“Sorry about that. I guess I’m not doing a very good job at keeping up with my schedule.” You tried to laugh it off, but couldn’t help but flush with embarrassment. 

The library was so quiet you could hear the beating of your own heart pounding anxiously against your chest. It remained silent for what felt like eons before Satan spoke again in a hushed tone.

“I still have your full attention for the time being, don’t I?” He reached out and took your chin in his hand, turning your face toward him. He was unexpectedly close. You drew a breath in nervously and nodded. He released you, but didn’t move away from you.

“Good. I don’t like to compete for what’s mine currently, Kitten.” He smirked, seemingly satisfied with your reaction. He pulled away from you and returned to his books. Your heart beat wildly. Fuck that was hot. Kitten? You weren’t gonna complain about that.

The study session wrapped up, though you didn’t feel like you had been capable of retaining any information after the phone call with Asmo and the “Kitten” incident. You slumped a little at the thought of having to study more, but alone this time as to avoid being put in any romantic situations that might cause your heart to explode.

The halls echoed with your hurried steps as you went to your room to get ready for your dinner with Asmo. Your mind raced with thoughts of what outfit you should wear to please your fashionable boyfriend. 

Standing in front of your overflowing closet you grimaced. If it were up to you, you would have half this amount of clothes, but every time Asmo saw something he thought you would look good in he bought it for you. He did this even before you started dating. It was even worse now. You honestly wish he would just pick what you would wear.

Wait! That’s not a bad idea. You pick out several outfits Asmo has bought you ranging from classy to slutty and text him a picture. 

You: Pick an outfit for me?

You send a winking Devilmoji along with the outfit choices.

Asmo: I just painted my nails pink for tonight. 

Asmo: I want frilly and pink!

You: You got it mi amore

You lock your phone and get yourself ready for the night.

When going out with Asmo you feel compelled to use all of the expensive products you have while you get ready. You don yourself in luxurious body lotion, hair products, perfume, and jewelry. All purchased for you by none other than Asmo.

The door to your room opens with no knock and Asmo sweeps in looking absolutely divine. His smell hits you and you feel as though you just walked into a garden of roses. What had you done to make this gorgeous man fall in love with you?

He glided over to you, a dazzling smile plastered on his face. “Darling I’ve come to be wooed.” No matter how many times you heard that melodic voice you were never prepared for the effect it had on you. Every part of him was built to entice and seduce. How were you supposed to get used to this?

“And I am prepared to woo you.” You leaned up on your tip toes and planted a soft kiss to his lips. His lips were always perfectly smooth and soft beneath yours. You would expect nothing less of the Avatar of Lust.

Sinfully delicious smells floated through the air inside of the restaurant. Everything in the Devildom was built to entice a person or demon to sin. The food was something that always tempted you here. However tonight wasn’t about you indulging, it was about showing Asmo your love and attention.

You were seated across from him at a small table for two. Everything was candlelit and Asmo’s Amber eyes sparkled like liquid honey in this light. You had to keep reminding yourself not to get lost in them.

Dinner was going well so far. Asmo seemed happy to sit and dine on the best food in the Devildom with you by his side. He showed almost none of that sadness you had heard earlier as he chatted excitedly about the upcoming trends. You could still sense it within him though.

When there was finally a lull in conversation Asmo’s face seemed to drop.

“Y/N…” You looked up at him to catch a gentle look of sadness in his face. “You love me… right?”

Was Asmo really asking this? How could you not love him? He was the Avatar of Lust. He loved you in ways you never thought anyone would. In what world would you not love this man?

“Oh Asmodeus of course I do.” You reached out your hand to hold his from across the table. He stared down at your hands. He gently placed his other hand on top of yours.

“Hey, tell me you love me. I want to hear you say it.” Asmo looked into your eyes. He held no false pretense. He was being 100 percent vulnerable to you.

“I love you. Now and forever Asmo.” You gave the hand beneath yours a loving squeeze. “Even if you had a pimple on your face, or your teeth yellowed, or if all your hair fell out. I would love you always because you are you. My Asmo.”

Asmo smiled and lifted your hand to his lips to place a sweet kiss to it. “Thank you darling.”

He sighed contently as he gazed into your eyes. “I love you Y/N. Thank you for loving me.”

After paying for the hefty bill, you both headed back to The House of Lamentation content knowing that your love would continue to grow and blossom in the most beautiful ways.

#obey me #obey me fic #asmo x reader #slight #satan x reader #I literally can't not feel bad when he has that look #why must 2D boys do this to me #my brain soup

[petitprincess1]

Good Evening Ch10 (Let’s Kill Tonight)

AO3 Link Summary: Alastor goes to wreak some havoc at the warehouse on two unsuspecting guards. How fun :) Words: 2,155 Warning:Warning: Mild gore (at least I think it's mild), violence, blood, amputation (not detailed), death, gun use, burning, and implied cannibalism. ~~~ Alastor had used the backdoor to leave outside of the house, since he heard Charlie getting interrogated by her mother and knew that Lilith seemed to be a shrew lady. The last thing he needed to do was be caught by her, since he knew that she was much more aware than she appeared, especially if Lucifer was any indication. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were fully aware of all that he had done.

No matter, this was something that could be dealt with on a later date. Plus, he wasn’t dense. The creole left a note explaining that he had left something in a previous motel that he stayed in or possibly at the Happy Hotel. Whether or not, they’ll believe it is nothing that he had to worry about at the moment. 

Alastor went into his car and looked at his phone, seeing if Husk had responded to him. The man had been around Angelo the longest and may know his password, especially since he’s in charge of keeping track of the guests. Granted, he would be making grand assumptions about his Anthony, but...they were necessary at the moment.

A vibration on his phone caught his attention and Alastor checked the message.

Husker: Why the fuck do you want to know his password? Alastor: Ah! You do know it! Thank goodness that you remain one of my, if not the most, predictable of my friends, Husker. Also, that information is unnecessary. Husker: Any info from you is fucking necessary. Now, what the fuck do you want with it? Alastor: Nice to see your vocabulary remains as limited as usual. If you must know, the ethel had gotten attacked recently and I need to get into this phone. I need to know who hurt him.

As he pulled up into the hotel, Alastor didn’t receive another text from Husk. He assumed that it was going to take a bit more persuading, but he ended up seeing Husk walk up to the car. Al rolled his window down and was about to give a cheeky comment, but Husk tossed a torn piece of paper into the car. He huffed, “Shut the fuck up before I change my mind about you givin’ a shit about anyone. Just leave me out of this. I don’t need to be wrapped up in your shit again. Also, do what you gotta do now and give me the phone afterwards.”

Alastor pouted, “Awww, but what if I need more information?”

The older man rolled his eyes and said, “You won’t. You never were one to forget. ….I’m only doing this for Angelo, not for you. I figured he would be in some deep shit hearing about Val’s death. Just...give them hell.”

The creole grinned coldly up at Husk and chuckled as he typed in the password, “Oh...I plan to.”

Alastor parked his car into the forest nearby and saw an abandoned warehouse about a couple of feet away. Luckily, the plant life was so thick and unkempt that it kept himself fairly hidden. He moved as close as he could without causing too much rustling and saw that there seemed to be at least two people on guard. Seeing them speaking to each other, Al hummed as he moved closer to the miscreants to hear their conversation. The creole truly hated being left out of the loop.

Once he was close enough, he listened to the tanned one complain, “...I’m just saying, man. There ain’t no point. Why do you think it’s just us? No one wants to come to some damn forest. They’re all busy with their, like, ouija boards and...switches...and, I don’t know, jeweling. Stuff like that...look, I got kids, man. I don’t want to waste time with this shit.”

The one that was greying glanced at him and sighed, “You’re a fucking moron. Also, just because there hasn’t been anyone, doesn’t mean that no one will be here. Plus, you think Tony’s family is gonna let Vox off easy. Ya saw how he was when he left. Barely was able to walk. It was surprising watching him start driving-” That was more than enough to assure Alastor that he was making the right decision, not that he had any doubts.

He went back to his car and opened up his trunk. Luckily, he had brought his bag, but he only planned on using his knife for this occasion. No need to set up traps, much harder to clean up the mess. There’s always a stray drop of blood that you always miss. Not to mention that it’s absolute hell to clean in-between the teeth of a bear trap. Al closed his trunk- no, he slammed his trunk as loud as he could, instantly making him hear the two get alerted. Just to add extra flare, the brown-skinned man tossed rocks in two different directions to gain more attention.

Alastor listened to the two whisper to another and scarcely watched them walking toward the forest. Luckily, the woodland was already so dense that he barely needed to hide. These people were just making it so easy for him ~~~ The greying haired man was slowly walking around the woods with a hand on his pistol, ready to pull out his weapon whenever it was deemed necessary. Other than Vox and Val’s crew and a few other associates, no one knew about the location. Well, the forest was pretty well known, but hardly anyone in Eden would go near it. He assumed that it was probably a bunch of kids, thinking that they might be brave or searching for an urban legend or whatever.

Normally, they were told to shoot whoever trespassed, no matter the excuse. However, if they were just kids or teens, the man had no problem with just letting them go with a warning or even threatening to shoot. He was a part of the mafia, but he wasn’t a monster.

The grey haired man jumped at hearing rustling in a bush nearby. He took his gun out and didn’t take the safety off as a just in case. He called out, “Alright, come out slowly and you won’t get a bullet in tha…” He trailed off as a bunny came hopping out from the bush and its little nose twitched up at the guard. The man chuckled, leaned down to the bunny’s height, and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry, buddy. I ain’t Elmer Fudd. You’re safe with me.”

The grey haired man placed a finger to his lips and shushed the rabbit, causing the little guy to bounce away. He gave another laugh as he pocketed his gun and turned to go find the other guard, just to suddenly let out a gurgled, cut-off scream as a knife got embedded halfway into his throat. He trembled as blood slowly came out his mouth, while he choked, staring at a mixed man with a wide smile on his face.

The guard placed a hand weakly onto the well-dressed attacker’s wrist and was about to pull, but the attacker chided, “Ah-ah~! I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s actually far more damaging to pull the knife out, since it tends to cause even more damage. Not a lot of people know that~”

He then winked at the greying man and sliced further up his throat, until he got to the bottom of his chin. The man’s tongue flopped out from the large gash in his throat as blood poured down his neck. Alastor was quick to place his jacket on the forest floor to catch the blood that poured out of the victim’s throat. The guard uselessly tried to stop the bleeding by weakly covering his throat and forcing his hanging tongue back into his mouth.

Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it did absolutely nothing and the man almost fell to the ground. Thankfully, Alastor was there to help settle the guard onto the ground and slowly placed him onto the jacket. He hummed as he grabbed the jacket and started to drag the man through the forest with one arm, looking at his knife with the other. Al gave a small lick to the blood and small bits of skin on the blade.

He muttered as he licked his lips, “Not bad. A little greasy, but that doesn’t mean it has to go to waste. Why, I bet your tongue would be great in an omelette. Using the right spices, you can easily make it taste like beef! What a wonderful treat to say “thank you”!” 

Al kept going on and on as he dragged the dead man back into the warehouse. ~~~ The other guard came walking back into the warehouse when he saw smoke coming from a window. He just assumed that the man put on the large furnace to stay warm. It was pretty cold, after all. He called out to the other man, “Artie, you here? I didn’t see anything! I’m guessing it was just a squirrel or…”

He trailed off and dropped his gun when he saw Artie lying on the ground on a jacket with his throat flayed open, exposing many ligaments, veins, and large chunks of meat. There also seemed to be Artie’s tongue inside of a container that had bloodied water inside of it. The guard covered his mouth and was about to turn to run, but he let out a loud scream as his achilles heel got sliced, rendering his foot useless and making him fall to the floor. He whimpered as he tried to quickly crawl away, ignoring the agonizing, searing pain on his heel and the sound of light, quick footsteps near him.

Alastor walked in front of the guard, causing the crawling man to look up at him. The guard whimpered, “P-Please, d-don’t kill m-me!”

Al crouched down and hummed with a large smile, “Well, you know, I would love to do that, but you hurt someone I really cared about. I-I mean, if you did this to send a message, then...message received” he took the knife out of his pocket and stabbed it through the man’s arm, causing him to scream in pain and tremble more on the ground. Tears ran down his face as his screams made his throat raw. 

The guard whined, “Pl-lease, I-I didn’t d-do anything! I-I-I didn’t e-even be-eat the fa- Gah!”

He cried as he got a punch to the face, which that pain paled in comparison to anything else. The creole’s smile grew wider to an almost insane degree as he practically growled, “Don’t...finish that word.”

Alastor looked up at the furnace and huffed as he grabbed the knife and yanked it out of the guard’s arm. The man bit his lip, trying not to cry out more. He gave shuddering whine and tried begging again, “P-Please, don’t kill m-me! I have k-kids, m-man, and a-a wife. I-I swear, I did n-nothing to th- ..An-nthony! Please!”

The creole ignored him as he stuffed the corpse into the flames of the large furnace, breathing in the smell of the quickly burning flesh. He was about to turn to the other man, but jumped as a loud bang happened behind him and felt something graze his cheek. Al blinked as he slowly turned to the man and saw him turning to cock the gun, struggling with his injured arm. He quickly walked over to the guard and stomped on his slashed ankle, snapping the bones and causing a loud wet tearing sound to reverberate throughout the warehouse.

Before the guard could do anything, Alastor grabbed the gun and tossed it away. He huffed, grabbing the man’s uninjured leg and began dragging him away, “I was thinking about letting you live, since I don’t particularly enjoy harming children or hearing their annoying cries. However...now, I need you dead for attempting to kill me! I mean, how rude.”

The guard pleaded as he dug, “No! PLEASE! DON’T! HEEELP! HE-” He got cut off as Al picked up the man and tossed him into the fire on top of the slowly burning corpse. His smile got smaller as it turned more into a relieved one, feeling a sense of catharsis at hearing the guard’s blood-curdling cries as he struggled to get out of the flames.

The creole closed the door to the furnace and left the door open to allow the wonderful aroma of burning cowards stretch throughout the place. He hummed along with the guard’s futile cries, took the tongue in the container, and any evidence that was around, he placed it into his bloodied jacket.

He could leave the tongue at the front entrance, but why leave any clues. Alastor wanted them all to never know what will happen next, just like how his dear Anthony went in unaware. He didn't get to kill the people he was looking for, but it certainly was a start. Al smiled, “Very entertaining, indeed~”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #tw blood #tw death #tw amputation #tw burning #tw knife #tw guns #tw implied cannibalism #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel husk #husk #husker #alastor #radiodust #one sided charlastor #fanfiction #angel dust #fanfic #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr

[mittensmorgul]

Hello. This might be a stupid one but; why didn't Michael showed himself to humanity? (Meaning mass revelation biblical style). He doesn't want an apocalyptic earth he already had that. So why take it by force? If he is not afraid of a god intervention, most of the people want peace not freedom and he is a bridge between 3 major monotheist beliefs.(did I missed something?) Thank you

Hi there! First of all, sorry this took so long to answer. And I’m gonna take a line here to apologize to everyone who’s asked me stuff that I haven’t replied to. Sometimes I just don’t know how to reply, sometimes I hold on to stuff to see it in my inbox (like nice things people say), and sometimes I save stuff for when I have the brain power to reply and then maybe never do actually come by that brain power… whoopsie… I am doing my best. :P

That said, let’s tackle Michael.

*waits for someone to take him out with a strong hit*

*still waiting*

Well fine. I’ll do this.

I think you may be misunderstanding exactly what Michael wants here. Michael doesn’t give a flying heck about people. If he wanted to be worshiped like a god, he probably could’ve had the whole planet on their knees in a matter of days, you know? Pull a Godstiel, but with a lot less murder and mayhem, perform a few miracles on international television, and bam. He could’ve had the whole population bowing to him.

But I reiterate, he does not care about PEOPLE.

I mean, we got the best look into Michael’s point of view in his conversation with Jack in 14.09:

Alternate Michael: Oh, but, Jack, we’re family. You know, in fact, we’re the only kin each other has left in this world.Jack: My uncle’s in the Cage. And you – you’re not family.Alternate Michael: Well, not literally, no. Our connection, our relation is more a matter of scale of power. Haven’t you learned yet? In this reality, monsters, humans, even angels – they are insects, atoms compared to us. But you [chuckles] – you’re just a child, a mere infant. For you, the past two years – the entirety of your existence – feel like eons. You don’t even know what time is. But you will. Real time, the time that makes mountains, that wipes out species. You’ll see it all with me.Jack: No.Alternate Michael: Year by year, century by century, and as your power returns and grows, we’ll only become more alike. Oh, I know. Your loyalty to Castiel, the Winchesters, the rest of humanity? It will fade. And so will the minor differences – angel armies versus monster armies, this Kansas City or that Kansas City, one world from another – they’ll fade, too. 

He doesn’t even consider other ANGELS as anything significant or noteworthy, you know? He’s essentially been driven demented by just having existed for so long, and watched so many other things rise and fall, evolve and go extinct. Everything else holds no real meaning to him. Things are born, things exist for a while, and then they disappear forever. Why bother forming any sort of attachment to anything?

It’s a horrific prospect, honestly. Jack is horrified by it. *WE* are supposed to be horrified by it.

Immortality… is not a gift… it’s a curse. And Michael proves that. He loves nothing but himself, because everything else will die.

His goal is not to amass a hoard of loving, devoted followers. His goal is to wreak as much havoc as possible in the process of reforming the world to whatever he thinks would be most interesting to him right now. We have no idea what that would look like, because I don’t even think Michael knows. He’s like a scientist just throwing random stuff into a vat to see what happens. Oh, that combination of things exploded! This other combination made poison gas! Moving on to the next thing… just leave those other experiments there smoldering in ruin. It just breaks up the boredom for him, and then he’s on to the next thing. Because nothing at all really matters to him.

So the question for Michael is… why not take it by force? He’d done it once with angels, and this go-around he’s decided to try the same thing with monsters. But they’re all monsters who are explicitly under his control via his grace making them essentially his puppets. They’re not even operating of their own free will, technically. They’re just extensions of Michael’s will at this point. He’s not looking to make them all into his devotees, or remaking the world for them to enjoy. Because again, they’re only temporary fixtures in the universe, from Michael’s perspective. He doesn’t care about them or what they want, despite that having been his question to everyone at the beginning of the season.

I suppose I should address that here, for the purposes of understanding how I’ve been looking at him. Yes, his question was “what do you want?” But he didn’t really care what anyone wanted, beyond attempting to discover which group (humans, demons, angels, monsters) was both honest about what they wanted, and simplistic in their desires. Because strangely enough, that’s what Michael needed in the group he chose for his army. He needed a group with simple goals that he could use for his own purposes.

Humans are too messy and complicated. Even ensnaring the entire population in a Divine Revelation sort of way wouldn’t guarantee complete submission, you know? Not to mention the fact that Michael and Lucifer both (and even Raphael) have never, ever, thought that humans deserved that place of love God had ordered the angels revere humanity with. I think Michael resents humanity just as much as Lucifer and Raphael ever did.

There just weren’t enough angels to make a functional army for him, and Heaven is in shambles. He’d already failed to eradicate humanity and wrest control of the world with a full angel army in his own universe, so he wasn’t even really interested in trying to recruit the few angels who are left here.

We know he approached demons, and talked to at least Kip from 14.01. But as we know of demons, they have their own wants. They’re conniving, cunning, and tricksy. I mean, look at Kip’s answer to Michael from 14.01:

Kip: You see, recently, I had a revelation. You know, somebody asked me what it was that I wanted. And I realized that after 600 years as a demon walking the planet, destroying, drinking, defiling – you know, the Three D’s – I didn’t know. So, I sat back, and I gave it a good think, and I realized exactly what I wanted.Castiel: And what is it?Kip: Everything.

So he wanted EVERYTHING? Well, funny enough, that’s kinda the opposite of what Michael wanted in an army, you know? Michael wanted mindless, ravenous soldiers he could control completely. Whose desires were uncomplicated enough that he wouldn’t have to care about keeping them content beyond the very basic.

That left him with monsters. And yes, not all monsters are mindless killing machines.

I mean, think of the vampires from Michael’s AU. They WERE reduced to animalistic eating machines, nearly starving to death because there just weren’t any more people to feed on, and they were beneath Michael’s notice, just like mosquitoes or mud. I mean, why would he care what they wanted?

Because what they wanted was to be able to feed without persecution. Also from 14.01:

Michael: Now, you – you know exactly what you want. You don’t pretend to want to help people… or save the world. Your want is pure and simple… and clean. And that’s why you are worth saving. That’s why we are going to work so well together. Because you – you just want to eat.

Not because Michael admired this quality, or thought it was “worth saving” in its own right, but because it made them useful to him for his purposes. He’s essentially using them to hoover up all the other intelligent life on the planet. What would happen, theoretically, when all the people were gone? When all their food dried up? Michael said he intended to have all the monsters turn all the humans in Kansas City. Well, what THEN? What would all those monsters eat once the entire population of the world were monsters?

It would be chaos, is what. It would likely provide a few years or even decades of entertainment for Michael to watch unfold before he’d have to find something else to amuse himself with. But again, he just does not care. Which makes him possibly the most dangerous villain the show has ever seen.

Even Amara cared about something, you know? Even the Leviathan intended to just take over the planet and create a never-ending perfect human food supply for themselves.

But this is even worse than Raphael restarting the Apocalypse out of ennui. Michael’s a nihilist. He doesn’t want to be loved or worshiped. He doesn’t want to convert the world to bow to him. He does not care.

#michael #spn 14.01 #spn 14.09 #he really doesn't have an agenda and that's the most terrifying thing about him tbh #Anonymous

[missjackil]

The Blame Game

There is something I just recently noticed with the Dabb era. This isnt me saying hes the best and everyone else sucked, but just saying there is something good that hes done that the others didnt.... He stopped the blame game!! We went through every other show runner having Sam (mainly) blamed for everything, and extending well into later seasons. He was blamed in S9 for releasing Lucifer in S4, not knowing he lost his soul in s6, his mental health in s7, not looking for Dean in purgatory in S8, Charlie’s death in s10 as well as breaking the world to save Dean. and Im sure a lot of things I cant think of right now. But, since s12, Sam hasnt been blamed for anything, even things he would be blamed for in previous seasons. Im not saying Sam doesnt blame himself for some things, I dont know if thats ever gonna change, but no one else is pointing fingers at him.  He could have been blamed for trusting the Brits and working for them. But he wasnt. He did blame himself, but no one told him he was wrong, or bad, or stupid. When Jack was new, and hurt people, no one blamed Sam for it. Dean didnt tell him it was his fault people got hurt because Sam wouldnt let him kill him. I was sure, and I think Sam was sure too that everyone would be pissed that he let Lucifer come with him to the camp to find Jack. But no one blamed him, in fact, Dean said “you have nothing to be sorry for”. This season when Sam made a mistake and let Maggie hunt alone, Bobby blamed him for a hot minute but both Dean and Mary defended him. Sam blamed himself, and yet Dean kept assuring him it wasnt his fault, and made sure Sam was aware that it was HIM that got Maggie back safely, and then Bobby appologized.  We see now also, even though Michael is wreaking havoc, Dean is blaming himself, but Sam and Co arent blaming Dean. Other show runners, other seasons would use this as a way to make the bros fight, or make them feel more guilt than they need to for trying to do the right thing and it blowing up in their faces. Remember in 13x8 The Bad Place, they thought Jack had killed that guy and they might have to kill Jack. Dean didnt blame Sam like he may have in another season, he said “This isnt an I told you so, I like the kid too”. Also, even with AU Charlie, Sam has never said he had her killed a few years back, in fact, Dean actually was the one who said he failed her.  The Dabb era hasnt brought up any of Sam’s past events in a negative way. Even when Sam reminded Dean that he could have put a bullet in him when he was drinking demon blood, Dean said it was different, and he deserved to be saved. Sam talked to Magda about the powers he used to have, admitted they were scary, but assured her it didnt make her evil or the devil.  This is good stuff guys... definitely something moving in the right direction, and I give Kudos to Dabbernatural for this one. 

#my meta #blame game #Sam Winchester #dabb era

[fangirlingtodeath513]

compulsion | a 13x20 coda

read here on ao3

Listening to the two of them yammering on down the hall is nearly unbearable, really. Neither of them are saying what they want to and, quite honestly, it’s infuriating. He’s not really sure how Castiel does it on a daily basis. His eyes flick up from the ground when he hears footsteps approaching and he flashes Castiel a grin. “Heya, Cassie. Been a long time, brother.” Castiel nods once, motioning for Gabriel to enter the room with the hand that isn’t holding a pile of bedding. So not in a chatty mood, then. Well, he can fix that. He pushes the door open, gesturing for Castiel to go inside first.   “So how do you stand them, huh? I mean, I know you can hear them even back here, it’s gotta be annoying. They’re just talking around each other.” “It’s a Winchester habit.” Castiel says, softly, and wow, that’s new. Castiel had always been firm in his command, never timid and submissive. It’s… interesting, to say the least. “Yeah, I kinda got that. But isn’t it annoying? Why haven’t you, like, tied them to chairs and made them talk?” Castiel turns to stare at him with a raised eyebrow. “Why would I do that? They’re adults, if they want to talk, they’ll talk.” 

Gabriel snorts, shaking his head and leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Right, because they’re the first family to avoid talking after their dad screwed them over.” “If you have something to say, then say it.” Castiel hisses, and it catches him a bit off guard. Emotions. It’s such a human thing, and it’s kinda shocking to see good little soldier Cas doing such a human thing. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, putting his hands up defensively. “Dude, relax, I was just asking. I admit, they’ve cleaned up a lot of messes they shouldn’t have had to.” Castiel glares at him for a moment more before turning back to the bed. The only sound in the room is the rustling of sheets as Castiel makes the bed and the silence is making him antsy. “Heaven’s shutting down.” Castiel says, suddenly, his voice deceivingly steady. “Heaven’s… what?” Castiel pauses and he can practically see the steadying breath the angel takes. “Heaven’s shutting down. There’s less than twenty angels left alive, including us. There aren’t enough angels in Heaven to properly power it, so it’s begun to shut down. And if it does-” “Every single soul in Heaven falls back to Earth and wreaks havoc before ending up in the veil when a hunter catches up with them. Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair (another human gesture, though this time it’s him that’s picked one up), and Castiel finally turns to face him. “Yes. I’m afraid there aren’t enough hunters to deal with that magnitude, though. There’s more souls in Heaven than there are on Earth, currently, and even if they aren’t violent right away, they’ll deteriorate into vengeful spirits.” “So… why don’t you call Dad, then? You guys have seen him, right? He can fix it, bring some angels back or make some more or somethin’.” Castiel shakes his head and tucks his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunching slightly. It makes him look smaller. “He hasn’t answered. I’ve been praying for weeks, before I even knew about this, but he doesn’t care. The only reason he came back before was because Amara was intent on killing him.” Gabriel pauses at that, narrowing his eyes. “Did you say Amara? As in, Dad’s sister, the one we locked away oh-so-many millennia ago? Gave the Mark to Cain and all that jazz?” Castiel nods slowly, clearing his throat. “Dean, he took the Mark on to finish off the final Knight of Hell, Abaddon, before she destroyed the entire planet. He… ultimately succumbed and became a demon. Rowena and Sam were able to remove the Mark but it ultimately released Amara.” Gabriel laughs harshly, shaking his head. “They stop one apocalypse and bounce right off to the next one. Incredible.” Castiel glares at him and, despite the fact that the angel is much less powerful than him, he can see the bond between he and Dean and he’s sort of scared of what Castiel will do to protect the older Winchester. “You want to blame the Winchesters for this? They’re the only ones cleaning up these cosmic messes! God certainly couldn’t be bothered, Michael and Lucifer are insane, Raphael was power-hungry, and you disappeared centuries ago. The only people who gave a damn what happened to this world are down the hall.” He watches Castiel’s grace flare and reach for Dean’s soul with fascination. He’s never seen a bond like this one, and the intensity of it is downright terrifying. He can see the snarl on Cas’s face, his real face, so he holds his hands up defensively. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I left because I was tired of cleaning up Dad’s messes, and I’m guessing you are too. So why don’t we just save your family, make sure alt Michael can’t get over here and destroy us, and then we can all live happily ever after.” Castiel stares at him for a minute before giving him a curt nod and leaving. He stands still for a moment before smirking and snapping his fingers once. He may not have enough mojo to open a portal, but he’s got enough to make those two idiots talk to each other, for real. Besides, the three of them being on the same page will help him avoid his own death when they finally make it to the other world.                                       ·     ·     ·     ✤   ·     ·     · “Dean… we’re going to that place, and we’re gonna save Jack and Mom. Together. And… if something happens, we will deal with it. Together.” Sam turns and starts to walk out of the room before pausing and turning back to Dean. “And if we die? We’ll do that together, too.” Dean shakes his head once Sam’s back is turned, sighing quietly. Right, Sammy. Sure. “No we won’t, Sam.” His eyes widen and he snaps his mouth shut before he can say anything else. That’s definitely not what he wanted to say, no matter how much he’d been thinking it. Sam turns back to him, his eyebrows raised. “We won’t? Why’s that?” He swallows, his mind turning over excuses, settling on I just mean we’re not gonna die over there. Except that isn’t what actually comes out of his mouth. “Because I won’t let you die, no matter what. You, Mom, Jack and Cas are coming home, even if it means I don’t.” He slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and startled. Why can’t he say what he wants to, why is he saying what he’s actually feeling? What the hell? He doesn’t have much time to worry about it, though, because Sam’s walking back to him and he’s pissed. “That’s idiotic, Dean. You can’t just sacrifice yourself for us.” If it comes down to it, I would. “I’ve been doing it all my life, Sam. I was raised to think that your life was more valuable than mine, I was just a good little soldier. Expendable.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. He sees the hurt flash across Sam’s face and, while he absolutely hadn’t intended to say those words, it… actually feels kinda nice to have it out there in the open. “Dean, your life isn’t worth less than mine. You’re not expendable.” This isn’t what I’m trying to say, I don’t know why this is happening. “But if it comes down to it, I’m not going to hesitate. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the four of you home alive.” “What makes you think we want to come home if you don’t come with us?” Well shit, that’s not Sam’s voice. He turns to see Cas standing in the doorway to the bedrooms. God only knows how long he’s been standing there. “Because then you’ll be alive. You’ll have Jack back,” he says, turning to Sam, “And you’ll have Mom back. You’ll be happy.” Sam shakes his head, shock and disbelief written across his face. “Dean, what makes you think we would be happy if you sacrificed yourself for us? How could that possibly make us feel any better? Because Mom and Jack will be safe, and both of you will be alive. That’s all that matters. “Because all I do is fuck everything up anyway.” “What?” Sam and Cas ask simultaneously, eyes narrowed in his direction. “Oh, don’t act like I’m wrong. I jumpstarted the first apocalypse because I was weak and couldn’t hold out in Hell. I left hunting after you died and Cas didn’t have anyone to turn to when the angels went nuclear, so that one’s my fault. I let Amara out because I couldn’t deal with the Mark. It’s my fault Mom’s trapped over there, because I couldn’t deal with-” He cuts himself off quickly with a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. Way too close for comfort, he’d almost admitted how hard Cas’s death had been on him this time around. “You’re an idiot.” Castiel says angrily, his glare fixed on Dean. “None of that is your fault, Dean. If it wasn’t you, some other righteous man would’ve broken the seal. I made my choices. I could’ve gone to you and asked for help, but I didn’t. That’s not on you.” “I let Amara out. I was the one who found the spell. You had a solution that would’ve kept her locked away, but I… I couldn’t deal with it.” Sam says gently, frowning. “You don’t fuck anything up, Dean. We want you here. I want you here. I-” Castiel cuts himself off and he sees the angel’s eyes widen before he turns and stalks back down the hallway he came from. Weird. Though it’s still not the weirdest thing about this entire exchange. “Look, Sam…” I don’t want to sacrifice myself. I want to be here with you. But if it saves your lives, I’ll do it. “I don’t want to die. I thought I was ready, I thought I’d go down hunting, that I’d die alone, but… I don’t want that. So let’s figure out what we’re going to do when we get there so we can avoid anyone dying.”                                     ·     ·     ·     ✤   ·     ·     · He barely hears the door creak open before he’s being spun around and shoved against the wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Castiel’s got two fistfuls of his shirt and his glaring at him with all the hatred he can possibly muster. He still kinda looks like an angry kitten though. “Remove it, Gabriel. Now.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows, holding back a smirk. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, brother of mine. I haven’t done anything.” “You’re compelling them to say what they feel rather than what they’re trying to say. Stop it.” “You sure caught on quick, Cassie. Why would I want to remove it? If I’m gonna put my life on the line for their mission, I want them on the same page.” “That’s not your decision to make, you spineless coward. Remove the compulsion.” Gabriel’s eyes go dark and he glares right back. “Sure you don’t want to go back out there? Might be the only chance you have of hearing Dean say that he loves you.” He’s barely got the sentence out before Castiel’s grace is flaring and he’s being shoved entirely through the wall, sprawling on the floor of the bedroom next door. Castiel’s on him in a second, his hand twitching toward his angel blade. Luckily for Gabriel, the sound of the wall collapsing is enough to attract the Winchesters. Dean pulls Cas off him and Sam helps him up, glancing between him and Cas. “What the hell is going on here?” Sam asks, eyes narrowed. “Gabriel’s placed you under compulsion. He’s forcing you to say what you actually feel.” Castiel says harshly, causing Dean to tighten the arm around him. Sam glances at Dean with a raised eyebrow. “That explains a lot.” Dean doesn’t say anything, but Castiel can feel the embarrassment radiating from his soul. Slowly, he loosens his arm around Castiel once he’s sure the angel’s done attacking Gabriel. “Why’d you shove him through the wall?” Gabriel smirks as Castiel glares at him, avoiding Dean’s question. “What’s the matter, Cassie? Cat got your tongue? Go on, clue them in.” Castiel doesn’t budge, so he pulls at the little grace he has left, snapping his fingers. Cas tries to resist, he really does, but he’s no match for an archangel. Even one as low-powered as he is right now. “I told him to remove the compulsion but he refused. I called him a coward and he told me I should return to you because it might be the only chance I have to hear you say that you love me.” He watches Sam squint at the angel and shake his head. “Cas, of course we love you. You’re our family.” Gabriel shakes his head in disbelief, glancing at Dean and Castiel before turning to Sam. “My Dad, you really are thick-headed, aren’t you? You weren’t part of the equation, Sam.” It takes a minute, but realization finally dawns on Sam’s face as he turns to look at Dean and Castiel, who are very pointedly ignoring eye contact. Gabriel rolls his eyes, waving his hand to remove the compulsion. “If I’m gonna risk my life over there for you three idiots, you need to have a nice, long chat about where your priorities lie. I just got my freedom back, I’m not going to lose it because you can’t deal with your shit.” With that, he stalks past them and towards the entrance to the bunker, brushing dust off himself as he goes. He needs to get outside and spread his wings. Maybe try to convince God to get of his lazy ass and help them, for once. The bunker’s door clicks shut behind him as he tilts his head toward the sun and closes his eyes, unfurling his wings and sending a desperate plea in God’s direction.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #gabriel #13x20 #supernatural #coda fic #13x20 coda #post-episode #canon-typical violence #my coda

[semirahrose]

Cornerstone (13.11 coda)

Sam plays it off like it’s accidental, for the first couple of nights. 

The morning after they return, Dean wakes up to find his brother dead to the world in a wretchedly uncomfortable chair in the bunker library. His arms are clenched over his chest fit to crush his ribcage, legs pulled up against him and sporting livid lines from where they’ve been squished against the edge of the table all night. 

 Every lamp and light switch in the room is on, and if Dean had to guess, Sam cranked up the thermostat. (It’s gonna be hell on the utility bill they never receive.) When Dean wakes Sam up and helps him to his feet—because damn, a night in one of those solid wood monstrosities would wreak havoc on anyone’s neck and spine—Sam mumbles something about losing track of time and isn’t able to turn his head to the right without wincing all day. Dean pretends to believe Sam. 

Sam pretends he buys Dean’s lukewarm rebuke. He does the same thing again the following night, though, as is the Winchester way. This time, it’s more or less the same, except it’s the kitchen, and it doesn’t look like Sam has slept at all. He blinks and flinches when Dean slams a mug of Irished-up joe on the counter. It’s more Irish than joe, really, but today’s the sort of day for it. 

“Y’look like you could use a bit of a pick me up,” Dean rasps, voice raw with sleep. He leans down when Sam doesn’t respond, but Sam’s eyes are worlds away, focusing on the space between his own face and the nearest object and darting restlessly. His lips move, but he makes no sound.

This close, Dean can see that Sam struggled hard enough against the restraints to bruise his wrists.

He knows this isn’t all about getting tied down and watching a man auction his heart off to hungry monsters. It isn’t even all about Kaia, or Mom, or Jack, or any of the other people they’ve lost or lost hope of saving.

He puts a few feet of space between him and Sam, bending so he can see Sam’s eyes. He says his little brother’s name and snaps his fingers until Sam finds his way out of wherever he is.

They’ve been here before, both of them. Same song, different verse.

Sam comes to with a shudder and a ragged inhale. His eyes dart to Dean, then to his coffee, which he sniffs suspiciously.

“Dean, it’s too early for booze.”

Dean can’t decide between, it’s not particularly early, Sam, and it’s never too early for booze, but he doesn’t have to. 

Sam takes a deep drink of the coffee and hisses at the taste. “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re welcome.”

He sits across from Sam before Sam can space out again, stealing Sam’s cup since he doesn’t seem in any big hurry to keep drinking.

Besides, a little liquid courage never hurt anyone. Especially before Words. Dean doesn’t believe himself to be particularly adept at the Words, but Sam isn’t here to spew his canned Dr. Phil shit, and someone has to do it.

“Is it Lucifer? I—” Smooth. Real smooth. Sam’s gaze darts to meet Dean’s. He continues. In for a penny, right? “I mean, the parallel occurred to me. I’m sure I’m not the only one who felt like I was watching Hell TV, and I wasn’t even in the chair. Are you—?” Okay, he wants to ask, but it’s a stupid question and they both know it. Anyway, if he asks it, Sam might feel compelled to lie, and they’ll be back at square one. “Okay. Strike that. Let’s proceed on the assumption that you are fucked all to Hell and back, maybe literally. I—I’m not stupid, Sam.”

Sam frowns, and for a second he seems more present. “Of course you’re not, Dean.”

“Shh. I mean, don’t think for a second I buy your oh wow I didn’t realize how late it was schtick. When I made that comment about you sleeping in, I didn’t mean to imply you should stop sleeping.”

“I’m—”

“So help me, Sam, if you say fine—”

“—dealing with it, Dean.”

“Don’t try that on me.” Dean sinks in his chair, fire gone from his voice. “We both know it’s not true. I know I said you needed to have hope for the both of us, but I didn’t mean for you to drive yourself into the grave trying to see the bright side. I’m shit at it, but I can try to see the bright side for a bit.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. The wan show of spirit is more than Dean could have asked for.

“Hey, gimme a break, Mr. Sunshine. You’ll want your job back real soon, I promise you that, but I won’t half-ass it. Look. I haven't seen you eat anything since that runny salad two days ago. How do eggs sound? I’ll make you some eggs and then you’re gonna go to my room and I’m gonna catch up on TV and you can catch a nap. I haven’t washed my sheets for weeks, and not even Hell smells like that, I guarantee you.”

Sam chuckles, and Dean feels like he’s won the lottery.

Dean knows it’s more than just one thing. It’s everything. He’s been on that razor edge before, and way back when he was ready to throw his life at Michael, Sam freed him and expressed his faith in him, and Dean remembered that sometimes there’s no easy fix or nice words. Sometimes there’s just a shoulder of support and the words (spoken or unspoken) that I’m here. We’ll make it together.

Companionship can blunt the edge of some of the sharpest blades the world can throw. It’s Dean’s turn, now, to offer a shoulder to lean on.

He stands, draws a fortifying breath. “How do you want your eggs?”

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#spnsamwinchester #bittersamgirlclub #sam love club #hurt!sam #sam winchester #spn fanfic #my stuff #my fic #spn spoilers #s13 #13.11 #sam and dean #dean winchester #caring!dean #as;lsdj;slk this is the first time the show has inspired me to write fic in forever please forgive me if it sucks #um and i wrote it in half an hour and it hasn't really seen anything more than a cursory edit #please forgive me™ #tumblr fic #protective!dean #sam and trauma

[mittensmorgul]

hi i was wondering how you think deans character is going to be in season 14 -- in terms of how michael effected him. i know sdcc spoilers tend to be a bit "eh" and off but it seemed like a big thing was them saying how michael is going to affect dean and jensen also mentioned it in a recent article i believe (:

Hi hi! I know this is an old message, but at this point I’m just going down the line in the inbox. :)

I’m very, very tired today... like had literally about an hour of sleep since yesterday and just woke up. But I have coffee and a give ‘em hell attitude, so here we go. :D

I know I’m always the one cautioning against reading too much into PR, because it’s a lot of smoke and mirrors, but this is one of those things where it’s just... this is obviously going to fundamentally affect Dean for a long time to come, the same way his experiences in Hell did, or Purgatory, or that time he was a demon. This was A Big Deal, not only because it’s Dean’s first major loss of autonomy like this, and not only because possession in general is a traumatizing thing to go through (ask Sam, or Cas...), but because Dean specifically saying yes to Michael is such a huge deal with such a long narrative history of baggage attached to it. They would not have played this narrative card lightly.

That said, yes. Even if Michael’s only in Dean for three episodes, this combination of loss of agency, anger at himself for having trusted or given in to Michael, powerlessness now that Michael’s free to roam the earth and wreak havoc, etc. etc. etc. is gonna weigh on him for a long time to come. Aah, guilt. It’s like fuel for Winchesters.

It’s hard to say specifically how that’s gonna affect Dean at this point, because we only have the tiniest snippets of things from episode 1 (like the very short clip from comicon). We don’t know what Dean’s going to be able to “witness” from his time as Michael’s suit. We don’t know what he’s going to remember about Michael himself, or what Michael will have put him through inside his own mind (like Gadreel put Sam into a little loop inside his own mind, and Lucifer had Cas locked up in the bunker kitchen watching radio shows on a television sinking further and further into helpless depression), what creative torture will Michael come up with for Dean? And how will that experience affect him afterward in addition to guilt over whatever Michael may have been up to with his body.

So exact speculation isn’t possible, but it’s pretty undeniable that whatever it ends up looking like, this is definitely something the show will have to address.

#hellatus inbox spelunking #spn s14 speculation #oh DEAN #dinkle #Anonymous