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#obey me game fics
dirwael · 4 months
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thirteen really puts mc's death and the related angst into a new perspective... unless she tampers with their life candle, she's forced to watch as it slowly melts until the flame finally goes out. she'll likely be the first person to know of mc's death unless they're with others. but what will she do afterwards? will she get to handle their soul? will she let them go? will she keep them?
could she even revive mc?
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love's no problem in my hands
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includes: barbatos x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
wc: 1.5k | rated g | m.list | cross-posted on ao3
a/n: just had to get this out quick i swear im on hiatus lololol. for @messysketchyobeyme as part of the @omsecretsanta2022 event. i hope you enjoy!!
please reblog <33
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Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.
So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.
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Barbatos doesn’t know how it started. 
Well, alright, he knows when he first noticed it. But he has a feeling the feelings had been there, building, culminating, for a lot longer than that. 
He first noticed his affection for you on a spring day, one of the warmest the year had seen so far. You’d shed your uniform jacket, rolled up the sleeves, and gone outside during lunch, claiming the quad as your own. Claiming the attention of everyone on the quad. And like moths to a flame, everyone had followed, as they always did. Him included. 
“It feels so nice out,” you’d chirped, face turned up to the non-existent sun, and Barbatos had become aware of a buzz under his skin, a curious warmth that he’d never really felt before. It didn’t take a genius for him to place the feelings, and he accepted them a lot easier than he thought he would, with them clicking into place like the last piece of a previously hidden puzzle. He finally understood what everyone was talking about, finally understood why people were pushed to invent, to create, to conquer in the name of love.
Of course, while he was going through all of these realizations and acceptions, time had moved forward, and you were now surrounded by everyone, with him on the outside, like always, slightly distanced, the few feet like an uncrossable gorge. But you, you with your crooked half-smile and wonderful gleam in your eyes, had looked through, to him, smile somehow widening just for him, and that had made it all okay, made that gorge seem like nothing more than the few feet it actually was.
Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.
So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” you tease, poking him lightly with the blunt end of your pencil. He blinks, coming back to himself, coming back to the club meeting, and gives you a half smile. The club was one you both co-ran, some ‘community wellness’ thing that you were a lot more passionate about than he. But he put his everything in it, for you.
“I apologize, I must have been distracted. Remind me of our discussion,” 
“Barbatos? Distracted?” Your face is bright, cheerful. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Barbatos?” 
“Funny, really,” he returns, and the laugh he is gifted with is quickly saved, pressed into the scrapbook of his memories, to be taken out and admired every now and again, treasured close to his chest. 
“Anyway…” you pull him back into the meeting with vigor, with enthusiasm, as with everything you do, and he lets himself be pulled willingly. What a fool he must be, to take the chains from your hand and wrap them around his wrist himself.
Once the meeting is over you check your D.D.D., cursing. He directs an inquisitive look at you, and you grin guiltily. The school is dark, and mostly empty, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.
“It’s a lot later than I thought it was,” you explain. “Is there any way I can beg a ride off of you? I’d be really thankful.” 
“I suppose,” Barbatos replies, making a show of being long-suffering. You draw out his humor in a way no one else does, and he’s grateful, so immensely grateful, that you see his dry, deadpan remarks for what they are and don’t just think he’s dreadfully boring. 
“Thank you so much!” You squeeze his side in a hug, apparently not feeling the staggering static that emanates from where the two of you touch, that sends shivers of electricity up and down his entire frame. “I owe you one.” 
“You always say that,” he accuses lightly. “At this point, I believe you owe me a lot more than that.” 
“Probably.” You shrug, unrepentant. He really shouldn’t find that shamelessness so charming. 
Being in a car with you is like torture. Torture he can stand, revels in, delights in. 
You’re close, within touching range. Not that he’d ever put his hands on you without your express and explicit permission, but the forced intimacy gets to him. You’re so comfortable in his car, shown by the way you commandeer the radio, the way you dig through his glovebox like it was yours for the taking. 
(Everything of his is yours for the taking, for the having, for the keeping.) 
“What’s this?” you ask, more to yourself than anything, but he looks over anyway. You’ve got a CD in your grip, reading the back. 
“That,” he says, “is my favorite CD. So be careful with it, please.”
“It’s your favorite?” 
He nods, and you give him that crooked smile, ejecting the CD that was in the player, exchanging it out. 
“We don’t have to listen to it,” he tries, and you wave him off. 
“Of course we do! It’s your favorite, and I want to hear it too!” 
 You pull pieces of him to the surface, almost by accident, and he stands there in front of you, exposed. But you’re always careful with the new parts of him that are revealed, treating them as preciously and as kindly as you’d treat an invaluable glass sculpture.
The first track starts and he keeps his gaze on the road, humming along. He can feel your eyes on him, and eventually, eventually gives into the urge to look over, meeting your eyes. 
“I can see why you like it,” you murmur, quiet for once. “It’s very…” you hold the words in your mouth, tasting them, savoring them. “It’s very you.” 
“Thanks, I think.”
“You’re quite welcome.” 
It’s quiet in the car, aside from the CD, of course, but he doesn’t mind the silence. Never has. Others feel it as a pressure, but he doesn’t, and knows, despite your propensity to talk and laugh and be in constant motion, don’t either. It’s a comfort, to be in silence with you. 
The drive to the House of Lamentation takes forever. Isn’t nearly long enough.
When he pulls into the circle drive, past the immaculately pruned bushes and other ostentatious landscaping, he resists the urge to go slower, to coast at a snail’s pace. He’s better than that. Barely. 
“Thanks for the ride,” you say as he pulls to a stop, lowering the volume of the music. “I really appreciate it.” 
“Of course,” he says. “You know me. Barbatos: butler, glorified babysitter, and part-time chauffeur.” 
He’s rewarded again with your laugh, but it fades into something thoughtful, something intimate.
“You’re so much more than that,” you say, and when he looks over at you in muted surprise, you’re not returning his gaze, instead focused somewhere in the far-off distance, maybe in the far-off past. Either way, you blink and come out of it quickly, but don’t take your words back. Instead, you do something, that even with all of his overthinking, his planning, his habit of examining every possibility, he’d never seen coming: 
You lean over and kiss him on the cheek.
Your lips are warm, and dry, and un-lingering. He stares at you in shock as you pull away, heart pounding a mile a minute. 
“Well,” you say with another laugh, much more high-pitched and nervous than the others he’d heard from you, “thanks again. I’ll be going in now.” 
You slide out of his car quickly, crossing the distance between it and the door in seconds. He almost thinks you’re not going to look back, until you do, that damned crooked smile on your lips, fluttering your fingers in a wave, even as embarrassment and joy war in your eyes. 
It takes a long time, too long, for him to pull himself together enough to pull away from the House of Lamentation, and he has to take the most convoluted way home he can think of to fully rid himself of his blush– a herculean task, considering that kiss plays on repeat in his head, the memory of your smile almost tangible. Who would have thought a simple kiss on the cheek would have been enough to bring the always-composed, always-distant Barbatos back down to the realm of unstoppable, human emotion?
Maybe you returning his feelings isn’t as far-fetched a possibility as he’d thought. 
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leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own
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nocreativityfornames · 4 months
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More detailed:
Zombie Apocalypse AU: self explanatory, it's the end of the world, the brothers are humans and not actually related ( apart from the twins and Lucifer and Satan maybe ) and they just come together with MC as a group to survive together. Bonus points if some of them die throughout the event. Yeah, that's right, I want that ANGST. ( Solmare will never give it to us though... )
MC gets sick and the brothers have to take care of them: already talked about this in this post :3
Lucifer is out for the weekend, chaos ensues in the house: classic movie trope, the dad leaves and everyone's excited to do whatever the fuck they want and throw a massive party in the house, only for the parent to send a text saying they're coming back earlier than expected. CHAOS.
The bros become humans for a few days/a week: they're hit with some spell, idk, but become a human for a limited amount of time and have to learn what it's like to live as a human. ( I CRAVE for this to have a scene where Satan gets a paper cut and is just blown away because wtf, HUMANS ARE THAT FRAGILE?!?! ) They're all grow a massive respect for MC at the end, because how the fuck do you live like this??
MC becomes an actual sheep: could be another animal too, but I chose sheep because you know, MC is represented by a sheep. It'd just be a cute scenario, and funny too. Give it to me!
Satan & MC bring a cat home and attempt to hide it from the others: idk, could be satan or mc that finds a hurt street kitten, so they bring it home with them and immediately text the other like: "HELP, EMERGENCY SITUATION, CAT INVOLVED!!"
They keep the kitten in one of their rooms and hide it from the others, but slowly, one by one the brothers start finding out about it, and OH BOY DO THEY GET ATTACHED.
The last one who finds out is Lucifer, obviously, but at that point everyone has already grown heart eyes for the tiny thing, and he can't say no to keeping it because all his 6 little brothers + MC are pleading him to let the cat stay and his heart can't take it. WE ADOPT A CAT, FINALLY!
( this one is just what I have as canon for my mc, honestly XD )
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loweya-blog · 6 months
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I once had a dream where Obey Me Lucifer and this random woman who was a painter had a slow burn romance. Like he legit busted into her house one day due to a teleportation prank caused by Satan (or mammon? Can't remember) Basically she demands that Lucifer act as her model for a while since he accidentally destroyed one of her paintings. I don't remember why he agreed. Dream logic I guess.
Anyways he ends up spending over a month with her as she got to use him as her model. Their relationship turned from slightly aggravated to good acquaintances by the end of it as they learned more about each other. Eventually, she says his debt is paid off and he is free to return home.
A few years later they meet each other again at an Art Gallery. They have a weirdly cute interaction where Lucifer is disguised for some reason and asks about the model. In a coy, I'm going to ask questions about it anyway. There the woman admits that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever painted. Her worst mistake was ever letting him go.
Idk what happened next unfortunately. Cut to years later, they reunite at a high class party. She's a middle-aged now but a successful artist who has raked in a large amount of money. Lucifer and her have a discussion on the balcony as the reminisce about the old times, so very long ago.
Here, he confesses to his growing attraction to her. She painfully points out that he had always been slow to move, even during his modeling years. The woman had feelings for him since the moment she saw him but knew better than to expect him to return those affections. And now he suddenly was? It was almost unfair.
She told him she had spent half her life pining for him, and was too afraid to spend the rest of her life pining for a demon who would never truly look her way.
Then it ended and left me on a cliff hanger so I was pissed.
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Cry for You
An RnB playlist was on shuffle as Mammon looked through his old photoshoots, his face accentuated in the portraits, facial expressions varying by magazine. Some modeling for luxury car brands, even a Hell Soy Sauce flavored ramen sponsorship. As the time scrolled back to his early career, he remembered your first date.
It was a picnic in the forest, a black and yellow checkered blanket with a basket of your favorite foods. He reluctantly asked you out the day before, blush tinting his cheeks. You shared jokes and affection as the sun began to set, softening the environment, tall grasses surrounded by tall wispy trees. Daisies and wildflowers were scattered around the landscape, their picturesque petals highlighted in the darkening area. Butterflies flew around, creating a memory you would never forget.
While attempting to recreate that first date for your anniversary, your muscles became very sore. Mammon noticed the wrinkles on your face, and the spots on your skin, forming little constellations. His eyes held a flicker of concern as your hands twitched slightly. You felt a supportive hand on your back, massaging away the pain. But these subtle reminders always came back to bite you. You fell into his embrace, head on his shoulder as his Google searches became frantic. Tears formed in his blue and yellow eyes as fear took him over. Although you were simply unconscious, this wouldn't be your last day.
You two drove around the Devildom and occasionally stopped at stores to buy trinkets. He smiled solemnly as he saw your reaction to the various CDs and flowers. But suddenly, everything fell into a haze, your limbs became loose as if you were a robot whose hinges lost oil. Your breaths were uneven as you held onto him, concern flashing within his eyes, immediately grabbing you. Mammon gently kissed your forehead, holding you in his arms as eternal sleep took you.
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sheepiemc · 7 months
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Seven Stupid Reasons to Summon a Demon
Reason #3: can't beat a boss
You died. 
Again. 
Those mocking words appeared on the screen of your monitor for what was probably the hundredth time since you started playing this stupid game. You wouldn't exactly call yourself a Gamer™️ or anything but surely you could hold your own in a silly little video game. And this silly little video game was getting on your last nerve… 
To be honest, it wasn't the type of game you would usually get into but your favorite otaku shut-in has been going off about it non-stop since it got announced. You were certain he had already got his hands on a copy by now and was probably already an expert, but you wanted to get far enough into the game so that you could get what he was talking about the next time you hung out. 
It was the perfect plan… 
If this game wasn't so freaking hard!! After spending almost 2 hours on the character creation screen, getting your avatar juuust right, you set off exploring the game. And, boy, was there a lot for you to explore. Open world games have really found their moment recently and this game was no exception. 
After ignoring most of the tutorial, telling yourself that you can figure it out (mistake number 1), you promptly forgot where it was you were supposed to go or who you were supposed to talk to. It’ll be fine, you said (mistake number 2) and kept wandering without a care in the world.
You were having a grand old time foraging for materials, crafting items, and making food when you suddenly found yourself face to face with a radiant being of impressive stature. You stood in awe at first, expecting some kind of cutscene; this creature looked important to the lore SOMEHOW, you just knew it. 
What you didn’t expect was for the creature to raise its mighty sword twice your size and strike you down with one blow.
You were so hurt by the game’s betrayal, you didn't pick the game back up for a couple of days.
Fast forward to now, you decided to try your best to beat that righteous jerk's ass! Each failure only made you more and more determined to beat her but your patience was wearing thin. Whoever said games are better when they’re harder to beat should be forced to play in their video game avatar's shoes! 
You stop for a second and chuckle at the thought. If this were a game from the Devildom, they probably would be playing in their avatar’s shoes. Then, they would eat those words. 
After another failed attempt, you are just about ready to throw your controller across the room… but you don’t, because it's expensive and you don't have the kind of money to just destroy it on a whim.
One more time, you tell yourself one more chance, then you'll bring out the big guns. 
You take a deep breath to center yourself in the moment. You take on the celestial sonuvabitch one more time, ready to put up a good fight. You get so close to lowering that red bar, closer than you ever had before. 
You stand up out of your chair with excitement. 
This is it, this is the one, you can feel it.
One more hit and the red bar goes down completely. You watch as the character falls, body crumpling to the ground and you throw up your hands in triumph! 
"YEEEAAHHHAHA!!!" You shout, absolutely ecstatic! 
Then suddenly the screen is awash in a white light, and the character you just spent how many hours beating starts to rise. You hold your breath, unsure of what is going on. A single beam of light shoots out of their lifeless form, hitting your character so quickly, you don't have time to react. Your health was so low that one hit with that beam was all it took for you to see those dreaded, familiar words pop up on screen once more. 
You died. 
You scream. 
You carefully but forcefully throw the controller into the beanbag chair across your room and fly over to your bookshelf, frantically looking for that friggin’ script. You use it so often, you almost never put it down in the same place twice. Cursing yourself when you can’t find it on the shelf, you start tearing your room apart. 
Your cat bolts from its peaceful sleeping spot on your bed when you toss the comforter over your head. Why would it even be in here?? You don’t know but you look anyway. Maybe it fell? 
You flatten yourself to the floor and look under your bed. Using your phone’s flashlight, you spot it at the far end, slumped against the wall. Your temper rising, you crawl underneath the bed and grasp at those damn pages. 
You don’t even pull yourself out from underneath before you close your eyes and start concentrating, thinking, “LEVI! I NEED YOU!” 
You open one eye in time to see an orange light reach a little ways under the bed and you feel a presence standing in the room behind you. You don’t even think about the state your room is in or how this must look to Levi when you hear him say, “M- MC?? Where are you??”
He’s concerned, maybe on the verge of panicking but you are so frustrated, you just start yelling, still under the bed. The image of your feet sticking out from beneath your bed and your muffled screaming would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t so in your own head. 
Levi, not knowing what else to do, panics and transforms. You know this because you can smell the faint scent of brimstone that accompanies said transformation. You feel his scaly tail wrap around your ankle and pull you out from under the bed. He’s crouching down beside you, hands hovering over you, unsure if you’re injured or not. 
“MC, what happened in here? Are you ok??” The concern in his voice makes you feel a bit guilty for worrying him so much over something so trivial. 
You take a deep breath and sigh, flipping around to face him with his tail still wrapped snugly around your ankle. 
“Levi…” You look into his eyes and see the worry. It tugs at something inside you and you sigh again, “the game is too hard.” 
At first, he just stares at you, not quite sure he heard you. 
“Wait, what?? Game?” 
You throw your arm dramatically over your eyes and gesture to your computer. He looks up to it and sees your final death screen. 
He exhales something between a scoff and a laugh. His shoulders slump and he covers his face with his hand. He de-transforms once he knows there is no real danger. 
“I really thought something happened to you, normie.” 
You bristle at the nickname, “Hey!” 
He looks at you from between his fingers. “You called me here because you can’t beat a video game, I think I can call you a normie in this specific situation.” 
You cross your arms and pout, still lying on the floor. “I’m sorry I worried you but this game is driving me insane.” 
He looks around the room at the mess you made. “I can see that…” He gets up and hesitantly extends his hand to help you get up. 
You make a note of how much better at initiating physical contact he’s gotten and smile despite your sour mood. You grab his hand firmly and use him as a counterweight to tug yourself off of the floor. 
You let your hand linger in his while you stand in front of him, not saying anything. He doesn’t seem to mind but you can feel the tension rise as the silence continues. Finally, you let yourself fall slightly forward and rest your forehead against his chest. 
You feel him stiffen. “W-what were you even doing playing that game anyway?” He asks. He turns his head to look at your computer monitor again, “And taking on one of the hardest bosses in the game, no less.”
“I was trying to beat the game so I would know what you were going on about when you inevitably rambled about it for hours the next time we hung out! I know how hyped you were for it…” 
“You know that game is notorious for being very hard to beat, right?” 
“YEAH WELL, I thought I could get far enough to at least keep up with you,” you pause. 
Levi senses you still have more to say and lets you continue. “I like to hear you talk about stuff I know nothing about, I think it's fun… But I see how much happier you are when I do know what you're talking about… I like sharing my interests with you too… it makes me feel closer to you.” 
You feel Levi rub your hand with his thumb. “You did,” now it’s his turn to hesitate, “all this…” he looks around at the mess you made of your room, “because of me?” Without lifting your head from his chest, you look too. 
“Well, I’ll admit this reaction is a little bit dramatic…” Your face flushes with embarrassment. With your head still pressed against his chest, you can feel the beginning vibrations of Levi's closed-mouth chuckle. 
You look up at him and see his face, smiling uninhibitedly. Now, that's a sight that gives you life. With no hand covering his face to hide how pink he is, cheeks dimpled from smiling so big, eyes crinkled, and eyelashes wet with tears. He starts laughing harder and his mirth is contagious. 
You start giggling until you start cackling ungraciously. You rest your head on his shoulder once more and try to calm yourself, saying “I can only imagine how ridiculous I must’ve looked under the bed.” 
He keeps laughing, “Yeah, what was that?” 
"Your script fell back there, I don't know why!!" You didn’t notice in your laughing fit that his arms have now circled your waist but when you do, you quietly slip your arms around him too. 
You look back up to him and he quickly averts his eyes, cheeks now burning a bright red. You smile knowingly and look back at the mess. 
"I- I guess I can help you clean up a little," he says, looking around again. His gaze settles back to your computer, "Then we’ll see what we can do about… that…"
Your arms tighten around his middle and you press your cheek to his chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank yoooooou." He stiffens again but quickly relaxes in the embrace. He pats you on the shoulder a few times and you (reluctantly) pull away from him. You put your hands on your hips. 
"Well, better get started!" 
He helps you get your stuff rearranged and back on your shelves, as well as fix your comforter and stuffed toys that were tossed all over the place. You grab the controller from the beanbag and apologize to it, giving it a little kiss. Levi shakes his head and smiles. 
After getting the room back to the state it was before the… incident… Levi stretches his arms above his head and cracks his knuckles. You roll your eyes and hand him the controller. You connect your computer to your bigger TV screen so you can both sit on your bed while you watch him play.  You lounge while he sits up with his legs criss-cross applesauce. 
“How long have you been at this?” he gestures to the TV with a nod. 
You flatten your face to the mattress and groan. “I started a couple of days ago when I met… her.” You lift your head and hold your chin in your hand. “I've been working on her ever since.” 
“Why didn't you just move on to the rest of the game? I can see you aren't very high level, you ever heard of grinding?” 
You blow raspberries dismissively. “Grinding is so boring. I was sooooo close to beating her with sheer determination alone, but now I see that she has a-” 
“Second form,” you both say in unison. 
You groan and Levi nods knowingly. His eyes don't leave the screen as the conversation continues. 
“Honestly, that’s pretty impressive… For a normie to get as far as you did in her fight.”
There’s that name (derogatory) again… You’re about to say something when you watch as he turns your little avatar around, in the opposite direction of the boss. 
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Just because you spent hours fighting her doesn’t mean I have to. I'm gonna level you up.” 
“Well, that just means I’m better than you.” You smile smugly at him and he scoffs.
“More like you're just a masochist! Why would you make it so much harder for yourself?” 
“Oh, I’m the masochist here?” You scoot closer to him and wiggle your eyebrows at him. 
His eyes widen and his face flushes red instantly. He scoots away from you. “Nope, I am NOT going to acknowledge that comment. We’re moving on.”
“But-” You scoot closer.
“MOVING ON!” You see the controller tremble in his hands just a little.
You laugh, “Oh, Leviachan, I’m sorry! It’s just so easy to tease you!” You rest your head on his lap and look back up at the screen. You watch as a blue light erupts underneath your avatar and suddenly you have a horse! 
You shoot up and say, “Where’d you get that horse??”
Your unexpected movement startles Levi and he jumps, nearly dropping the controller. “What??? You haven’t been using your horse??”
“I didn’t know you got a horse!!”
“Next, you're gonna tell me you didn't use your shield in that whole fight.”
You don’t say anything.
“You did use your shield, right?”
You look away and say nothing. 
Now, he actually pauses the game. “MC…”
You turn back to him, with all the pain evident on your face. “What button is that?” Your voice trembles.
He puts the controller down and steeples his fingers in front of his face, covering his nose and mouth, concern evident on his face. 
“You really are a normie…” he whispers to himself but loud enough for you to still hear him very clearly.
“HEY!!” You lean back and start pelting Levi with your stuffed animals, “Ok that’s it, you take that back!” 
Levi laughs, guarding and blocking all your attacks, “Hey, we just cleaned this place!”
“I’m not a Gamer™️ but that doesn’t make me a normie, ok!?”
“How’d you make that sound with your mouth?”
“Take it back!” Out of ammunition, you lunge for him and start shaking him back and forth. “Take it back!! Take it back!!!”
“Alright, alright! You’re not a normie! But you are a filthy casual.”
You grip his jacket tightly and squint at him. “Ffffffine…” you manage to say through gritted teeth. 
You both settle and get back to the game. Levi insists on doing everything again from the beginning (“What do you mean you skipped through the tutorial? How’d you even do that??”). You excitedly show him how you had painstakingly recreated Henry as your avatar and you could swear his eyes are sparkling with unshed tears. He wants to show you all the easter eggs and foreshadowing and lore in every nook and every cranny so you know it’s gonna be a long night. It’s around 3 AM when, with you sitting between his legs, his arms around your middle and chin resting on your shoulder, he notices you’re starting to doze. You protest sleepily, saying he didn’t even get to fight the boss yet.
You don’t remember much after that but you do wake up the next day with all your stuffed animals back where they should be and a sticky note on your game controller that says, “G3T G00D, SCRUB!”
You snatch the note off of the controller and crumple it in your hand, smiling ruefully. 
Where’s that script? You’ll show him who’s a scrub… 
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star-centric · 5 months
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Hehe a 🐑 for the ask game based on an actual tag I saw on ao3 once: "I wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess"
I wanna hear your most self-indulgent thoughts 👀
Fake fic ask game!
Sorry I’m so late in answering this but MAAN do I have a lot of self-indulgent thoughts that I’ll probably never get to writing to 😭 but the one that’s been eating at me for a while:
“MC, whatever you do- do not open the door.”
Simeon warned through the phone, pinpricks shooting up your spine. Regret filled you as the banging on the door grew more desperate- why did this had to be the one time you chose to ignore Solomon’s warning?
The knocks soon turned into banging, various pleas and cries to just please let them in growing louder. You didn’t want to believe that they would hurt you, but right now you don’t know what they’re capable of.
The demons behind your door are not the same ones from earlier, they’re feral-
A deep growl filled the air with an echoing crack, sharp claws finally breaching through, slit eyes staring straight into you.
You didn’t have time to come up with a plan.
You needed to escape- now.
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dollyyyhouse · 1 year
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
An AU where the demons involved in the exchange student program have always plotted to sacrifice the humans in the program.
This is an edit! I'm adding some content warning because I originally forgot to add some :}
CW: Mentions and descriptions of violence, mostly a horror AU!
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Poor sleep habits were common, nothing unusual for people like yourself, but ever since your arrival in the Devildom; sleeping peacefully seemed like a thing of the past. You began to toss and turn in your sleep, night terrors of violent scenes, all of which involved YOU playing the poor and helpless victim flooded your dreams, and those few seconds you faded in and out of sleep— you could hear ghastly cries for help to YOU and ineligible mumbling in your ear. Perhaps it was your mind playing tricks on you?
No. You swore it wasn't, the Avatars of Hell even explained the story behind the House of Lamentation. The macabre and brutal murders that took place and how poltergeist roamed the halls in search of either revenge or rest— for all you knew, you might have stood in the exact same place as a victim during the attacks! Were the same entities that had died in the murders the ones whispering and crying out for help to you?
Some nights, all you could do was helplessly lay in your bed, praying for a sun that would never come out. Oh, how you wished to see the light of day during those lonely nights. All you could do was find beauty in the little things; and that's exactly what you did.
One evening, you confided in the second eldest brother, Mammon, about your fears of living in the house, along with your night terrors. "Huh? What are ya' yapping about, human?" Mammon looked at you in a funny way, as if you were some weirdo. "Uh, well, I don't know," you let out an awkward laugh, "I guess it's just my imagination that's making me feel uneasy. You did explain that all sorts of ghost and ghouls exist in the Devildom." The demon laughed, "Aha! The Great Mammon is always right!"
"I told ya', stop freaking out over no big deal, not like anything can hurt you with me watchin' over ya'!" Mammon slung his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close, almost too close. It was like he always wanted to have power over you. Even if he didn't boast about it outright— Mammon, along with all of his brothers and the others involved in the exchange student program, were one step ahead of you. "Those dumb little ghost can't do anything. All they do is whine and groan about the past, just don't talk to them. " Little by little, you tuned Mammon out. You originally didn't mean to, you had just fallen down a rabbit hole of thoughts. When you realized he was still complaining about 'this' and 'that', you just grew tired of listening to the greedy man speak.
You parted ways from the demon, using the excuse of wanting to wash up and have some alone time in the bathroom. Truth be told, Mammon's words didn't soothe you at all. His statement about how the ghost only ever "complain about the past" struck a nerve with you, how could they not? Majority of them died pitiful deaths and were cursed to roam a house with a tainted reputation.
So, here you were. Fresh out of the bath, brushing your teeth and planning on heading to bed soon after. You spit out the left over toothpaste, glancing at your reflection in the foggy mirror before looking down into the sink, you resumed brushing, catching another glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You spit again, in the upper corner of your eye, you see a young girl in a tattered and bloody nightgown, you go to grab a cup — wait what?
Flipping around, you see no one. "Holy shit.. I need to get a grip of myself!" You mumble. Turning back to the mirror, a message appeared to form in the foggy and damp mirror. "Run." You weren't sure if that was the message intended, the writing looked as if a child had written it in a rush. Deep down, you prayed it was just a young poltergeist playing tricks on you, maybe the kid had eavesdropped on your conversation with Mammon?
You discarded your towels on the bathroom counter, hurrying over to your closet to dig for pajamas before someone saw you naked. Once you grabbed a nightgown, you quickly threw it on and jumped into bed— hoping that you could fall asleep before the monsters came out to play.
It truly seemed like everyone and everything around you was always one step ahead of you. When you shifted in your bed, you were met with a pair of eyes only displaying a mortified expression. When you blinked, they were gone. Retreating under the blanket, you curled up and made sure the blanket was properly tucked underneath you and that not even a toe would be seen; only allowing a small pocket of air for your nose. "I feel too much like a scared child right now, damn it, it's so stuffy underneath this stupid blanket!" Shutting your eyes, a pout formed on your lips and your brows furrowed.
The security of the blanket seemed to help you, because just a few moments later, you were slowly falling into sleep, but conscious enough that even a creak of a door would alert you. Usually the night terrors would wait until you were in a deep sleep to begin; but this time they begun early.
Your thoughts were hazy, you could barely keep up with the dialogue running through your dream, but familiar figures lurked throughout the dream.
"Stop this! Please! I thought I could trust you!" Those words fell from your lips, only to fall upon deaf ears. Your body moved on it's own, as much as it possibly could with the ropes holding your body into the shape of a star. "Barbatos, is everyone ready to begin our precious exchange student's graduation ceremony?" A grand voice spoke, the owner of the voice was all too familiar, along with the name he mentioned. Nothing made sense, but neither did the 8 other hooded figures surrounding you. All of the demons began to chant an unknowing curse, the man who spoke first stood beside you, wielding a large knife. "No, no, no, no, no! Stop, I did everything I was supposed to! I thought you were meant to keep the human exchange student alive no matter what!—" In a swift motion, the tall figure stabbed you in the chest, twisting and forming a shape in your lower chest to upper gut.
And just like that, you woke up and recollected all the other scenes in your night terrors. All had similar dialogue and the same hooded figures, almost everything was the exact same, besides a few scenes where your restraints broke loose due to "your" thrashing. The nightmares weren't of you, instead, you were only a replacement for the past exchange student who suffered a fate you were soon also going to suffer.
The poltergeist around you were only trying to warn you. The demons you thought of as friends were the hooded figures of the dreams! How could you be so stupid to trust a demon, let alone 9 demons?! Your heart race increased, it seemed like at any moment your heart would just bounce out of your chest and run away!
It all made sense, the highest ranking demons of Devildom were always PLENTY of steps ahead of you. You didn't know when, but soon, you were going to be betrayed and slaughtered.
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puerileaccismus · 10 months
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I know the obey me! MC being represented by a sheep is mostly so we can insert ourselves into the story, and the MC is suppose to be human,,,
But what if the demons just straight up summoned a sheep? Like, a normal sheep. And just didn't notice for the whole year
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mybeautifulreina · 1 year
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I had a dream that you were cheating on me!
Mc has a dream where the brothers cheat on them. They are indeed really aware that it was a dream but they can't help with their own emotions and in the end, they ignore the brother. The brother completely doesn't have any idea about Mc's dream. The brothers can't stand anymore with Mc giving cold shoulder to them so the brother confronts Mc and ask what happened to them. "I had a dream that you were cheating on me! I hate you so much so I don't want to talk to you. I know it sounds ridiculous and childish, but I can't forget the way you smirk when you kiss your scandal in front of me. Yes, I am aware that was a dream but the feeling of betrayal…..," Mc choke with the words inside their throat and walk away, leaving the brother to dumbfound.
Lucifer ~What in the actual f? ~Still processing what you say ~What is he gonna do about it? ~Say sorry? ~He would rather go to the celestial realm rather than say sorry ~It's not his fault so why does he need to say sorry ~Will just let you calm down for a few days hoping that you would forget about that weird dream ~(But he miss your touch since its few days you give him attention) ~…. ~F it ~Say anything but will completely avoid 'sorry' since it's not his fault ~Feel relieved that your expression become more relaxed
Mammon ~Ohhh man ~he feels slightly panicky inside since his favourite human hate him ~will go after you ~"Mc, forget about ya weird dream. This is The Great Mammon and this demon will not gonna do that to ya. Remember that I'm ya first demon and never ever forget about that fact okay!" ~Go cuddle him and say that you're already forgiven him
Leviathan ~Before confronting you, he is in a deep grieving ~Why you suddenly don't want to play games with him ~His love language literally quality of time ~ It feels so weird without you by his side ~Marching straight to your room ~Your glare when he is suddenly in your room does give him a shiver down his spine ~"Mc" ~After some not-so-slow talk, he didn't expect that from you ~And here we go again with his self-degrading ~Go console this snake
Satan ~Scoff ~So that's why you're giving him cold shoulder ~Indeed that was childish of you to think of him that way ~Him? Cheating on you? ~Sigh while smirking ~What he gonna do with you ~Take your favourite book with him and find you ~You're doing your own things in your room and suddenly you heard a soft knock on your door ~Satan was standing in front of your eyes and asking permission to come into your room ~He ask you to sit beside him and you did what he told you to do ~Place your head on his chest and start to read your favourite book
Asmodeus ~The most dramatic ass demon ever exist ~Good thing is you dream about him ~But the bad thing is it's a bad dream about him ~Oh darling ~He already leaves that old him ~Gonna make sure you will never think of him like that ever again
Beelzebub ~Poor this himbo baby 🥺 ~Will be a sad giant baby ~Please don't sulk on this guy ~He is not the type of guy who will be cheating on you ~Will buy you your fav food/snack/drink ~Take you somewhere nice to enjoy that food together ~He will say sorry ~He will do anything if it means you will be on good terms with him again
Belphegor ~This guy is a pro in terms of dream ~Some countries have a myth where the good dream come from God and bad dreams come from the demon ~And that was true ~He will track down that bastard ~How dare that bastard use this cheap trick on you ~After he tracks that bastard, you can say that you will never get that dream again ~My hc is that he does have a unique way to comfort you ~He will waiting for you to sleep ~Do something and he will be in your dream ~Gonna comfort you in your dream ~When you wake up in the morning, you will find him cuddling you ~his head is on your chest, hearing your heartbeat
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daytaker · 2 months
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The Adversary
“What happened?” he kept asking. “What the hell happened?!” But I was Wrath, and Wrath doesn’t speak with words.
AN: This is a modified chapter from a longer fic of mine called "Let's All Be Shadows". (Link leads to ao3.) There are references to events from that story, but this can be understood without reading the long-fic.
POV: Satan Nightbringer Timeline Word Count: ~ 4500 Synopsis: Satan recalls his earliest months in the Devildom and a new revelation that hit him just recently. CW: violence, rage, blood, manual choking
Most of the fic is below the cut.
----
Nominative determinism.
That’s a philosophical theory that argues that people gravitate towards interests, careers, or behaviors that align with their name. Nominative—named. Determinism—fate.
The name Satan comes from an ancient human language; the Hebrew word הַשָּׂטָן (hasattan), which means “accuser” or “adversary”. So, following nominative determinism, that is my role. I am the opposition. I am the adversary.
And, following this human theme, if you asked the average human today, they’d probably tell you that Satan and Lucifer are both names for the same entity.
They wouldn’t be completely wrong.
----
The first thing I knew was a white hot pain. It exploded through me, starting at my core and bursting outwards. I was on fire. I was dying.
It’s ironic that birth and death must feel so similar.
I was in a fugue, then, for what felt like a long time. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I could only rage. Everything that approached me, I tore to shreds. I was feral. I was out of my mind. Flashes of memories are all I have of the beginning. There’s the taste of copper in my mouth and blood smeared over my face, on my hands, in my hair. I’m tearing at something that used to be alive. Then oblivion, and the next thing I recall is writhing on the floor in a dark room, the rough masonry scraping my bare back. I bled all over the Demon Lord’s dungeon, and I never stopped screaming.
I screamed until my throat bled, and after that, I screamed in choked, gargled bursts of sticky blood and saliva.
After the rage, the blinding heat, the blood, the broken nails and torn hair and shattered restraints… After that, there was him.
I hated him.
I knew who he was; what he was to me. It was instinct, the way a baby knows its mother. Lucifer was my mother.
I’ll never forgive him for that. I’ll never forgive him for making me.
Because he did. He made me. He put me here, a struggling, suffering, raging mess of tissue and blood and bile and hate.
I don’t think I can effectively put into words how badly I wanted to die. There’s no way to say it without sounding pathetic. But I wanted death in a way I can barely understand now. Everything hurt, and now he was here, and every nerve ending in my body seared with a sort of fuming hatred that I couldn’t understand. I still don’t understand it. The idea that I could end my own existence never crossed my mind, though. That didn’t feel like an option. He made me. I was his responsibility. He should be the one to liberate me.
Instead, he tied me up, cast enchantments, and put me into bondage; he prevented me from moving. 'For my own good,' he said. And there, where I couldn’t lash out with my body, when I couldn’t strike and bite and rip, when I could no longer express myself physically; that’s when I spoke my first coherent words. They were like pebbles on my tongue, awkward and slathered in saliva, garbled, but intelligible.
"Traitor," I growled in a strange voice; a voice I'd never heard before. "Look at the mess you made."
I used those words to remind him what he was. That was my violence. Words like:
Coward. Failure. Hypocrite. Pathetic. Weak. The worst thing to ever happen to the people who trusted you.
It was a chorus of insults designed to burn him. Babies nurse on their mothers. So did I. I nursed on his pain. I wanted so badly to hurt him the way he hurt me. And maybe, possibly, he’d do what he should have done the instant I was born into this world. Maybe he would lose his temper. Maybe he would kill me.
He didn’t. Obviously. He never even responded to what I said, in those early days. He’d just look me over, examining my body, treating the rash of scabs on my back and shoulders. He’d put this cooling salve on the sores, and it burned like ice on my skin. I screamed and I bit at him and I tried to show him what words, still so new and ineffective, refused to do for me. “I hate you. I will kill you.”
Sometimes he’d get this look on his face… This awful, sick… sad… sour look. Pity. It was just pity.
And it enraged me. How dare he pity me when this was his fault? I told him as much.
I told him everything back then, in those earliest days. Every thought that entered my head. I only knew three things: pain, hate, and Lucifer. And only one of those things could understand me.
My memories from then are fuzzy. Rather than a narrative, I recall a tapestry of impressions and sensations; reds and whites and blacks, flashes of green, and long stretches of gray. But some incidents stand out in my mind, clearer than all the others. In one, I was bound and naked—I wouldn’t wear clothes then, in the earliest days; I just shredded them when I had my hands free, and I screamed and tensed and scraped my body on the walls when I didn’t. I hated how they felt, hot fibers rubbing against nerve endings that were so raw I could barely think. But I was naked, and I was bound to a bed or a chair or something in the Demon Lord’s castle, and I was screaming, and tears and blood stung my eyes, and I told him:
“This was inside you all along, Lucifer! Look at me! I was inside you! This is you! I am you!”
And he sighed. He looked so tired, so pathetic. He ruffled my hair with a gentleness that ignited the rage inside me to a maddening level. And he said to me:
“I am me. You are you.”
I told him to eat shit, and he shrugged and cleaned me up.
I wonder if he was punishing himself, the way he always took care of me on his own. Or maybe it was just one of his self-imposed responsibilities; another thing he could do to convince himself he didn’t deserve to be miserable.
Back then, in those early days, he treated me like I was his child. I was his child. It always makes me sick to think about it that way, but he was my parent. He gave birth to me. He nursed me. He raised me. And just like so many parents since the dawn of time, he made me into a miserable facsimile of himself. I was Lucifer, but worse. I was Lucifer, but broken and ashamed and out of control. I was Lucifer, if Lucifer hated Lucifer. I didn’t want to be Lucifer.
“I am me. You are you.”
That’s easy enough to say when you’re the original. What about when you’re the parasitic thing that exploded from someone’s wounded body and heart? What then, Lucifer?
----
In spite of everything, I somehow made progress. I learned to dress myself, and to wear clothes without tearing them to shreds. I learned how to walk without erupting into an inferno of fury. I learned to speak without screaming. And that awful mother of mine was always with me, it seemed; always by my side. “Remember to breathe,” he’d say, or “Focus on what’s in front of you.” And I’d mutter curses at him, and I’d try; I’d try to do what he told me to do, and I’d feel so ashamed . But when I did what I was told, he’d give me things. Books, mainly, but also different foods, changes of scenery… So I did what I was told.
In some ways, I was as naive as a child. I remember the mystery of my first snowfall, touching it and putting it to my lips and staring at the impression of my handprint in the white blanket on the ground. But there were also plenty of things I never had to learn. I knew how to read and write; I understood, conceptually, that there was a Celestial Realm and a Devildom, and which one I was in. I knew that Lucifer had brothers and a sister, and I knew the sister was gone.
I knew about Lilith.
Lucifer says I often talked about Lilith in my early days. I don’t remember it myself, but he says I seemed fixated on her. I would sob and rage at him for letting her go, letting her die, twisting what was left of her and warping it into something ugly.
Lucifer said he thought it was because he was so heavily focused on Lilith when I was ‘born’; he supposes he must have imparted some strange impressions on me in his grief. I don’t remember any of that though, like I said, so I had to take his word for it.
I don't think that's the real reason anymore, though.
----
I remember meeting my brothers. Tch. My ‘brothers’....
“This is Satan,” Lucifer said to them. “He is your brother. I expect you to treat him as such.” They all stared at me as I sat bound and chained to a chair, gritting my teeth, and then they glanced at each other. They didn’t know what to say. And then they stared at me again, and I knew they were told how I’d erupted from Lucifer’s body, and I knew they had heard me screaming in the dungeon and down the otherwise quiet corridor of unused rooms, and I knew they were afraid. I knew.
But I was just six weeks old, and I was terrified too. And being terrified made me so angry. I struggled to swallow the rage, but it was only a matter of seconds before I choked out the first coherent thing that entered my mind, the words crescendoing into a grating scream by the end.
“They’re not my brothers!”
My vision wobbled, my head ached, and my muscles burned with an energy that could only be expelled with violence. I broke free from the chains around my wrists, and soon I was throwing things. Whatever I could get my hands on. A table. A painting. A priceless vase. Levi and Asmo and the twins scattered, and Mammon looked like he wanted to join them, but he didn’t. He stood uselessly in the middle of the hall as Lucifer grappled with me.
“O-oi, whadda you need?” he asked Lucifer, who responded by flapping his wings in irritation and grabbing onto my throat.
I grinned at him. I wanted to show him the worst, most sickening face he could possibly imagine. Lucifer’s expression hardly changed, but he squeezed, and I knew I’d succeeded. “Kill me,” I spat. I was crazy. I had lost my mind. It was empty of everything besides the hate. “Kill me, you scum. Kill me like you killed her.”
For a short while, I thought he might really do it. His fingers dug into my throat, his jaw clenched, and there was a rage in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before as I used some of my last stores of strength to strike him with my tail. Yes. He fed off my rage, and I fed off of his, and it was an infinite feedback loop. The border of my vision started to grow hazy, and my pulse was pounding in my ears, and…
He released me far too soon. Far, far too soon. I didn’t even fully lose consciousness; didn’t even get to enjoy a moment of oblivion. I’d just let myself go limp. I surrendered so easily. And that second of lowered resistance was all he needed to cast some binding enchantment on me and leave me irate and screaming, wheezing for breath, my pulse pounding in my face as my blood resumed circulating, and I wriggled on the floor like a worm. I felt like a worm. 
Time was still so new back then. I couldn’t follow how it passed, and it seemed to dilate, stretching and squeezing, becoming longer and shorter based on my moods. And now, it all feels so long ago.
It was a lifetime ago, I suppose. From then to now, for me.
I wasn’t kept under lock and key. Not normally, at least. I was allowed to wander the Demon King’s castle. While Cerberus stalked the labyrinth below, I was treading the hallways above. I wonder how Lucifer convinced Diavolo to agree to that…
It never got better, though.
The rage.
I just learned to manage it. Slowly. Bit by bit. I’m still learning to manage it. Sometimes I slip.
I slip a lot, actually.
Books were my main solace in the Demon King’s castle, just as they are now in the House of Lamentation. Because I understand how little I know, and how valuable books are as resources.
But funny enough, that wasn’t why I became so interested in books at the start. I was far less interested in nonfiction than I was with novels. Reading a good novel…a really good novel… It can feel like a possession. Like you’ve entered someone else’s body and attuned yourself to someone else’s mind.
I wonder if others understand what a relief that is? I wonder if anybody can have any idea what others actually feel, and how it compares to yourself? It’s a question I sometimes get stuck on. The question alone takes me out of myself. I like that.
I didn’t care much about the real world when I was new. Why should I? The only things in it were Lucifer and his brothers, and I got enough of that already. I would rather be Azaz the Summoner, the demon who forged pacts with other demons in defiance of all natural laws. Or a young human boy living in the wilderness with wolves. I like stories like that.
No, what piqued my interest in the world outside was the butler.
I don’t know where he got the time, or why he cared enough to be bothered with it, but he told me about his own life. Only in the vaguest terms, of course; never touching on anything that felt truly personal. He talked of how ancient he was, and how he’d walked in the human world before humans ever did. And he told me about his room. He even let me look inside once. It’s shocking. Doors and stairs all over the place, leading to different places and times… 
There’s no way for me to know if he was being honest with his stories, but he knew so much, it seemed insane to believe he was making it all up. He knew about the way the Devildom smelled when it was first inhabited by demons; he knew about the sulfur mines that shut down millennia ago, and the infrastructure that transformed the place into somewhere livable… 
So I read some books about the ancient history of the Devildom. From what I could tell, his descriptions were accurate, and though he could have learned those things the same way I had, I didn’t feel he did. It felt more as if he was speaking from experience.
But when I read about the early Devildom, I wanted to learn about the fae. And when I read about the fae, I wanted to learn more about magic. And when I learned about magic, I wanted to learn more about curses, and magicians from all three realms, and soon I was no longer reading about fictional worlds, but my own. And I wanted so badly to see it.
----
When we moved into the House of Lamentation, Lucifer gave me the scroll. It was shiny and strange, and he told me it belonged to me, and that I should look it over when I was ready. He told me it had information about my birth. He made it sound like some sort of legal document, and it seemed to me that he wanted me to look at the thing sooner rather than later. So I tossed it on a high shelf and ignored it. I ignored it until you came to my room and started asking questions.
Lucifer came into my room the night I had you over. No knocking. He just burst in, arms crossed, wearing that disgusting look of beleaguered disappointment on his face. Like I’d let him down again. Like I owed him the consideration of trying to do anything else…
“You had a guest today, I heard.”
I was sitting on my bed, reading a book about who-knows-what. I’ve forgotten. He made me forget. And I was suspicious. Why was he speaking like that? Why wouldn’t he just say what he meant? I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer, so I glared at the page of my book without seeing a single word.
Lucifer continued. “Did you become angry? Or were you cruel out of some new, cold sadistic streak?”
I threw my book at him and he dodged it with ease. Then he continued as if I hadn’t tried to smash his face in. “Or perhaps it was unintentional. But it seems you left our attendant in a state of deep distress. What did you discuss?”
“Get out of my room, bastard.”
I turned and lied on my side, back to him, and I dragged my tail over the bedspread. I was working away at it, slowly turning it to ribbons as the threads hooked onto and snapped over the sharp spines. I knew he hated it when I did things like that. And he knew I knew, so he pretended not to notice.
Irritating.
For about three minutes, I laid there, and he stood there, and neither of us said a word.
“Why does it matter?!” I finally snapped. I found myself tugging at my hair in irritation. Every part of my body feels so unnecessary when I’m agitated, from my hair to my horns to my skin. “Why won’t you leave?”
“You should be more careful with whom you share family matters.”
I actually spat out a laugh. Was he serious? I rolled back over and sneered at him. “Why’s that? Anyway, isn’t this all more or less a matter of public record? The entire Devildom knows how I came into the world.”
“Hm. So that’s what you discussed.” He nodded, and there was something supremely cocky in his mannerisms that made me want to strangle him. But I couldn’t strangle him. So I did the next best thing.
“Lilith came up.”
I stared at him, and I saw the flicker of emotion on his face when he heard that name. That name… Lilith… It’s a name I could use to hurt him. That’s all I was thinking when I sharpened it like a knife.
“I don’t understand why anyone would be cautious talking about Lilith with me,” I said nonchalantly. “But I guess my ‘guest’ thought I would be bothered. Tiptoeing around the fact that she died. As if I would be devastated over it.” I laughed, but it was hollow, and I wasn’t getting the reactions I wanted.
I doubled down.
“Really, I’m glad I never had to deal with her. She sounds infuriating. When you get down to it, the entire war was her fault. All because she couldn’t stand some human dying ten or twenty years before he would have ended up dying anyway.”
I could sense his rising annoyance, but it was too tempered. He knew I was trying to get a rise out of him, so he wasn’t as angry as he might have been otherwise.
“She was your sister,” Lucifer said. He had a strange voice when he said it.
I laughed again. “Right. Like they’re my ‘brothers’. But I never even met her. She’s just some idiot who threw away her life and all your lives for a single stupid human. She’s a stranger. She means nothing to me. She has nothing to do with me. And she deserves what she got.”
Lucifer was quiet for a few seconds. I couldn’t tell if I’d struck a nerve or not. He wasn’t so upset that he reacted, though, which annoyed me.
“She has nothing to do with you?” he echoed.
“Nothing whatsoever.”
His eyes roamed around the room, and they quickly fixed on that damn scroll, as if it was a homing beacon.
“You haven’t read that yet, have you.” It wasn't a question.
I felt another sharp jab of annoyance. “It doesn’t interest me.”
“Don’t be pointlessly stubborn, Satan.”
“What do you care?” I snapped. “Did your attendant come crying to you? Did that break your heart? You just can’t stand seeing someone in pain, is that it?”
“It’s not like you to be intentionally ignorant.”
“Didn’t you say it’s just a record about my birth? I don’t want to know anything else about how I was born. I hate what I already do know.” I jumped out of bed and stalked towards him. If he wasn’t going to walk out the door on his own, I’d gladly help him get there. “And it’s completely like you to dodge a question.”
“You weren’t asking that to hear the answer.”
Again, irritating.
“Why does it matter if I read that thing?”
“Because it concerns you. You should understand how you came to be.”
“I know how I came to be,” I growled. “You pulled your wings off and bled all over and cried. Am I wrong?”
Lucifer lowered his arms to his sides and frowned deeply at me, but he didn’t say anything. Something about that...scared me. Something about that filled me with dread, like I’d suddenly found myself on the edge of a precipice. But dread can’t exist inside me for long. Soon, it had churned through my body and hardened into something more familiar.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I growled. He didn’t say a thing, and he didn’t move. My stomach roiled in my gut. The frustration and disappointment were no longer evident on his face. Instead, I felt like I was a newborn again, “Stop looking at me like you’re worried about me! Like you pity me! It makes me want to vomit!”
I lunged at him. He reacted with the strength and dexterity I’d come to expect. I could never land a blow on Lucifer. If I hadn’t been so damn angry I wouldn’t have even tried. But my entire being ached with rage, and I acted without thinking. I felt so weak. I felt so helpless. I stood there, struggling to free myself, and he stood over me, my fists in his hands, that same, awful, pitying look on his face that he used to have back at the Demon King’s castle. Seeing that look…
“Why do you look at me like that?!” Hot, angry tears blurred my vision and burned my eyes. “Your face always makes me sick, but I can’t stand it when you look at me like that! Why can’t you hate me?!”
And before I could do anything else, I was bound up. Again. Just like I used to be, back in Diavolo’s place. I screamed, and I sobbed, and I felt like I had felt when I was first born. Like nothing but wrath, poisonous wrath, was coursing through my veins. And I felt arms around me—his arms, and I couldn’t push him away, so I just screamed as he embraced me. Like he had any right to embrace me! Why couldn’t I make him leave?! How dare he touch me?! I’d kill him. One day, I’d kill him!
It had been a long time since I’d been that angry. I think it took a toll on my body, because I slipped off to sleep without realizing I'd ever slowed down, and when I woke up, I was in bed, unbound and alone.
My body was sore from straining all my muscles the night before, and I felt groggy and unwell, like I’d been drunk on rage and woke with a hangover. I stepped out of bed and looked around the room. I felt I was searching for something.
Again, like a homing beacon. The celestial glow drew my eyes.
My fingers twitched.
I took the scroll from the shelf and untied it. I hated that I was giving in to him so easily. But what choice did I have? I had half a mind to burn the thing unread, but it slipped open and the words appeared before my eyes in a language I barely recognized. A human language, bizarrely. It appeared to be Latin. It used Latin characters, at least.
ANNO MMCDXCI REGNI GARDONI MAGNI A SANGUINE LUCIFERI ET CORPORE LILITHAE IN REGNO QUOD INTER REGNA EST CREATURA NOVA E PACTIONE SANGUINE CONSIGNATA APPARET. EX AMATO AD AMATUM IN ACERBISSIMO MORTIS DOLORE CORPUS CORPUS ITERUM FIT ET SANGUIS SANGUIS ITERUM FIT. HAEC PACTIO IN TERRA NEUTRIUS PARTIS CONCELEBRATUR AB INFERNO CONFIRMATA NEQUE A CAELO RECUSATA. SATANUS, ADVERSARIUS, NATUS EST.
TESTATUM PER DIAVOLUM, GARDONI MAGNI FILIUS NATURALIS TESTATUM PER BARBATOS, DAEMONUS TESTATUM PER LUCIFERUM, ANGELUS LAPSUS
----
I wandered to Lucifer’s study. It was empty. It took awhile to find the right sort of dictionary, but eventually, I had what I needed. And I got to work.
Within the hour, I was rampaging around the house. Mammon tried to get me under control, but he was never able to contain me. Only Lucifer ever did that.
“What happened?” he kept asking. “What the hell happened?!” But I was Wrath, and Wrath doesn’t speak with words.
----
Playing the adversary is hard work. It’s exhausting. It makes me miserable. But I have to do it. It’s my role. It’s my name. And I’m made out of Lucifer’s wrath. He must feel so much lighter without all that anger weighing him down. How nice for him. But when I learned about what else I was…
I’m Lilith, you know? I’m made out of her.
For some reason, that made me crazy.
----
IN THE 2491st YEAR OF THE REIGN OF THE GREAT GARDONUS, FROM THE BLOOD OF LUCIFER AND THE BODY OF LILITH, IN THE REALM BETWEEN REALMS, A CONTRACT SEALED WITH BLOOD BRINGS FORTH A NEW ESSENCE. OF BELOVED, BY BELOVED MADE, IN THE AGONY OF DEATH, BODY AGAIN BECOMES BODY AND BLOOD BECOMES BLOOD ANEW. THIS DOCUMENT BEING LEGALLY SOLEMNIZED ON NEUTRAL GROUND, SANCTIFIED BY HELL, UNCONTESTED BY HEAVEN. SATAN, THE ADVERSARY, IS BORN.
WITNESSED BY DIAVOLO, NATURAL SON OF THE GREAT GARDONUS WITNESSED BY BARBATOS, DEMON WITNESSED BY LUCIFER, FALLEN ANGEL
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misc-obeyme · 3 months
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various chats mention "bufo egg milk tea" as the devildom version of tapioca/boba and for a long time i assumed it was just a made up word for some devildom animal. fast forward to me looking up various real life animals for non-obey me and to my surprise bufo is just latin for toad!
Anon, this is absolutely hilarious to me! Because as it turns out, I discovered that the word bufo actually meant something in a similar way, but it was quite some time before I started playing Obey Me.
I first encountered the word bufo while watching Adventure Time where there was a character who was a wizard by the name of Bufo. He was, you guessed it, a toad. But I just figured they made it up. I mean it sounds like a wizard name & that show was all over the place so I never once suspected there was anything more to it than that.
And then I think it was years later, I was researching constellations… you know, like you do. And I discovered that there are actually a lot of what they call obsolete constellations - ones that someone made up but that nobody really uses anymore. And one of those was, in fact, Bufo, the toad. I just about lost my mind. I was like WAIT the toad wizard’s name was Toad?!?
This is so funny to me because it’s very similar to your experience it just happened in a slightly different way lol.
But as I’m sure you discovered, there’s apparently a whole genus of toad that they call bufo?? I shouldn’t be surprised they’re always using Latin words for genus and species names.
Now my question is this. Are these demons really out here drinking toad egg milk tea? Or is that just what they call tapioca? Like it’s the same thing as boba but they call it bufo eggs because they’re demons & it fits the theme? Or they are drinking literal toad eggs??? Because yo… I mean okay they do kinda look like boba. And it’s not like humans don’t eat fish eggs so… maybe it’s good? I dunno, I like my milk tea sweet & for some reason toad eggs sound like they’d be salty lol.
It’s kind of like that time they said Satan flew off the handle due to some issue with a “La Mort de Socrate” pizza. Like?? Guys, that’s the name of a neoclassical painting. At least toad eggs are probably edible? What the hell is that pizza supposed to taste like???
But then they also have things like black tapir? That is an actual animal that exists. I don’t know if people eat it, though.
And then there’s Quetzalcoatl brains. That is the name of an Aztec deity. Often depicted as a feathered serpent, so I can only assume it’s supposed to be some kind of equivalent to mythical snake brains??
Okay okay sorry I got a little off topic lol. I just find quite a lot of the things they use to name foods somewhat baffling. But thank you for sharing your discovery with me, anon, it made me giggle! And now perhaps others too can know the truth of the toad eggs lol.
Though now I’m like what other such nonsensical things are they naming Devildom foods that I’m probably unaware of…
Anyway, I was going to include a picture of toad eggs, but… yeah it’s kinda gross. Y’all can look that up yourselves if you want. But here’s Bufo the Wizard instead.
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leviathans-watching · 9 months
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what assumptions make
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day 1: fluff, misunderastandings
includes: lucifer & mammon
wc: .7k | rated g | m.list
a/n: monday's post for @ombrotherlylove2023!!
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Lucifer sighs in exhaustion, pulling his coat off. The meeting had gone way longer than he had expected, and after an already busy day, it had utterly wiped him out. At least now he’s home. And at least Diavolo recognized the toll he was placing upon him, giving him the next morning off, much to Lucifer’s relief. He really should still attend the meeting that’s scheduled, as it is his duty, but that’s something to think about tomorrow.
It’s quiet, which is unsurprising for the late hour. It’s late enough that his brothers are all probably settled into bed, and he wonders if they left him any leftovers. It was Mammon’s turn to cook so he at least knows the food will be edible, which, while good in terms of having to eat what was made, decreases the chances of there being any left for him to actually eat. He’ll look after he’s changed out of his day clothes, and maybe even showered. He should shower, but he’s just so tired. 
No, he needs to get the day’s grime off of him.
Moving quietly through the house and down the hall, Lucifer heads toward his room. Pausing outside the cracked door, Lucifer frowns. Hadn’t he left that closed? The sound of shuffling then grabs his attention and he strains his ears. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to invade his privacy and he has a good idea of the culprit. Normally, anger would swell up inside of him, but he’s just too tired…
Pushing open the door, Lucifer crosses his arms. It looks as if his suspicions are correct. “Mammon,” he says, and his brother jumps guiltily, pausing his apparent search of Lucifer’s dresser.
“Oh,” Mammon laughs nervously, “hey, Lucifer. How’s it goin’?” He’s in his pajamas, and Lucifer notes, almost absently, that the shirt he’s wearing is an old one of Beel’s. 
“Why are you in my room?” Lucifer asks, then holds up a hand. “Nevermind, I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just… put back whatever it is that you’ve taken and get out.” 
Mammon swallows. “I haven’t taken anything.” 
Yet, probably. It’s a good thing Lucifer got back when he did. 
“Right,” Lucifer snorts. Normally, he’d push harder than this, but he’s just too exhausted. He’ll do a thorough search of his belongings the next day. “But fine. Now, remove yourself from my space.” 
Mammon takes his cue and departs quickly, giving him one last look over his shoulder as he leaves. His eyes are filled with something unusual but Lucifer really can’t put in the effort to dissect it, instead readying himself for a shower. He’s got a building headache and hopes the warmth of the water will help keep it at bay. 
After mustering up the energy to wash himself after several minutes of just standing there, Lucifer turns the water off. He exits his bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, and flicks on the light in his room. His headache is worsening, and all he wants is to eat and then to fall into bed. But going to the kitchen sounds like a real pain, and he wishes he had something in his room. Maybe he should get a minifridge like some of his brothers had; that would certainly make things easier. 
But also give his brothers more chances to take things from him, unfortunately. 
Something on his dresser, where Mammon was, catches his attention. Lucifer moves closer. It seems to be a bottle of painkillers and a wrapped plate. Lucifer inspects it and finds three clumsily-shaped onigiris. If these were here and nothing obvious was missing…
Lucifer sighs as his chest fills with warmth. How wrongly he had pegged Mammon. 
In this one instance. 
Even though he was acting upon rightfully held suspicions, Lucifer feels bad. Mammon did this, acted with surprisingly good and kind intentions every once in a while, at the most unexpected of times. He had a way of knowing what Lucifer needed without him even having to say anything, something that served Lucifer well.
He’ll have to apologize properly in the morning. But for now, there’s no harm in indulging in Mammon’s care–taking the medication, eating the food, and then falling right into bed, falling asleep before his head even hits the pillow. 
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leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own
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avatarofcats · 6 months
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✨🫑[NIGHTBRINGER!SATAN x GN!READER] 🫑✨
Word count: 1,343
Tags: slight angst, mentions of blood(not gore), cannon divergence, blossoming feelings, fated lovers(just a smidge), bad language
It was in the way Satan observed you in the first week of you arriving in the Devildom. He’d been pacing around in his room, furious about something he distantly remembered as having something to do with Lucifer, chewing his nails to the point of bleeding, when he spied you through the window pane in the courtyard below. All he could hear was his own aggressive pants as his blood pressure climbed, trying his best to control his spiral as you stooped low to do something. Eyebrows raised, he took a step closer to the window, bleeding fingers coming to rest on the sill as he spotted the cause of your actions. A fat white cat. He snorted, barely composed. That cat had avoided his affections for weeks, there was absolutely no way you were about to come out of this with a new friend. He saw your mouth move, and to his surprise, fat white tilted its head curiously. Then it stretched, slowly padding toward you, before fucking rolling onto its back, and gently pawing up as it allowed you to pet its stomach, unrestrained. Satan lost it then, stepping back in a renewed fury, storming over to his desk. Cats were the one thing he had that the others weren’t interested in, the one thing that not even Lucifer could ruin, and you’d decidedly encroached on his territory. Wildly shaking hands dove through the messy pile of notes, spitting wild curses to himself as he looked for something specific. Ah, found it. He grabbed a wrinkled note with his terrible excuse for handwriting on. He checked it once, twice. If you liked cats so much, then he would trap you as one to teach you a lesson you’d not forget.
He strode purposefully out of his room, slamming the door so hard the wood rocked on its hinges, screaming falling on ignorant ears. Finding you was an easy task, he was simmering just below a pure fury, and his tunnel vision allowed for no distractions as he closed in on your location. You were still none the wiser to his intentions, having settled into a seating position onto the cobblestone, cooing softly as you gave the cutest cat you’d ever seen some attention. You sighed, contentedly. You didn’t feel the ominous presence arrive, not when the front door opened, and then closed quietly. Fat white stirred, cool blue eyes nervously flicking to the source of the noise. You turned, confused, and the black horns set against a light blonde told you who it was as you squinted at Satans figure. He raised a crumpled note, lips open to start talking, when fat white, frightened by the sudden appearance of the wrathful demon, yowled.
He sunk his claws into your wrist, ripping wildly as he attacked you, rolling quickly onto its front to skitter away, a blur as it jumped onto a stone wall, and then up and over the gate, disappearing out of your sight. Satan watched intently as your eyebrows upturned into that of a deep sadness, hand still half flexed in a petting position, deep ruby drops starting to slide down your skin from the wounds, face turning down to stare at the space where fat white once was. He stuttered, the start of the curse still stuck in his throat. The previous insurmountable anger rocking his skull started to ebb, blanketed by the temporary confusion of the situation. You winced, flexing your fingers, and quickly wiped your wrist on your jean pants to stem the tiny cuts adorning your skin from bleeding.
Your gaze resettled on him, and he froze. “Did you need something?” You asked him, and his emerald eyes darted down to his paper once again. He paused, eyes lingering over the written curse, and stuffed it back into his pocket. “No.” He scoffed, dropping himself down onto the step by the front door to regard you curiously. You gazed at him for a second too long for his liking, but when he went to scold you for it, he found himself asking you a different question instead. “You like cats, attendant?” He asked moodily, but due his tone, it sounded like a bored statement. You stood, and looked off in the direction that fat white had presumably retreated too. Taking a moment to think, you hummed. “Yeah, I like them. They’re cute.” You turned, and looked toward the house, at him. To circumvent the way his heart tinged with shame at his original intentions, he tried to continue the conversation with you, albeit poorly. “What, even that one?” He asked incredulously, gesturing a hand rudely toward fat whites escape area. You chuckled at him then, and he felt a confused flush start to settle on the column of his neck. What the fuck were you laughing at? Him? The audacity—
“Especially him.” You said emphatically, and it sent his train of thought crashing. “Why?” He heard himself say, barrels quieter than his thoughts. You gave him a nervous-perhaps even shy smile. “Everything deserves love. It wasn’t conscious for the cat to hurt me, it was afraid. It hurting me shouldn’t change that, not especially when I can see it was reacting from fear. My life hasn’t changed because of it.” You explained yourself, and he furrowed his eyebrows in a deep confusion. “But it hurt you.” He said dumbly, and you smiled. “Yes, it did.” You confirmed. He shook his head, with a frown. “I don’t understand you.” He said bitterly, and he heard your footfall on the old stone as you approached him to go back inside. “It’s alright. Just think about it for a bit. I’ll explain it to you another time.” He swore your voice held a tone of affection for him, but that was impossible. All he’d done since you’d arrived was destroy the house, and make your job of running after him and his ‘brothers’ harder. You spoke of it expertly, as if you were older than your years. Not impossible for another demon, if Satan was honest with himself. He was vaguely surprised with the way he didn’t find your words condescending, but comforting. You moved to walk up the couple of steps he was tucked on to get to the door, and when you stepped onto the same step he dwelled on, he couldn’t help but shoot his hand up, grabbing your shin firmly. You froze at the touch, eyes widening as you looked down at him, and he could feel your pulse pound under his fingers. He gazed up at you, intentions firmly concealed by a frightfully cool gaze. “I intended to curse you. That’s why I came outside.” He stated quietly, words equipped with a hardness to them. You noticed how his grip, already impossibly tight,started to squeeze tighter. He would not allow you free until you provided him with an answer. Your gaze crawled over his features, and he felt like you were searching for something that he feared wasn’t there. “Did you?” You asked softly, trying your best to ignore the dull ache creeping up your calf. He shook his head, almost like a guilty child. The tension between you both was thickening, and Satan’s inexperience in his feelings caused him to fall silent. You paused, hand nervously fluttering at your side, before you reached down, and gently put fingers to his scalp, slowly carding through his hair. “It’s alright.” You forgave him, and somewhere in the recesses of his chest, something weak and gnarled and ugly twinged. He released your leg, jean material scraping pleasantly against his palm, and your hand removed itself from his hair. You stilled, and when he made no effort to continue your conversation, you climbed the short way to the top of the step, and went inside. He remained there on the steps for some time, eyes squeezed shut as his body tried to calm down from your touch. It was in the way that you so calmly forgave him, without malice or discontent. It was in the way that his heart thumped belatedly, the way you shone your light on his misdeeds so honestly. He was powerless.
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loweya-blog · 6 months
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Late Night Discussions
(SFW, tiny bit of angst, takes place in the Child MC AU. Link for original post here.)
The ticking of the clock echoed through the castle's tea room as he stared out into the distance. His hand was still gripping the teacup that Barbatos had kindly refilled but Diavolo's words were nothing but white noise to him.
"Lucifer?"
He suddenly felt himself being pulled back into the room.
"Sorry, Lord Diavolo."
"...Is everything alright?"
The demon simply nodded in response but Diavolo could see there was more going on in his old companion's mind.
"You realize that I can tell when you're lying?"
Lucifer let out a sigh as he realized he would have to explain himself now, else Diavolo would start to worry. As much as he hated having to tell anyone this, he supposed it was better to ease the young prince's worries now.
"It's... nothing important," Lucifer begins. "....I'm worried. For MC."
Diavolo's face lit up with surprise as he heard Lucifer confess this since the old demon rarely liked expressing his concerns. But he was quick to change his expression, afraid that he would close up again.
"They're a human. Even if they're living with us, that isn't something that can be denied," Lucifer goes on. "I can't help feel that us bringing them to the devildom may have been a mistake."
"I already assured you that they'd be protected here," The prince says.
"I know. But what about the universal human experience? The devildom is so different from the human world, in our food or basic behaviors and expectations." Lucifer explains, "What if they grow up and struggle to be a normal human because WE were the ones to raise them? We can't ever provide a true human experience to them. Even something as basic as the sun rising everyday isn't something we can replicate."
The prince quietly listened to these concerns, realizing how in depth Lucifer was thinking, possibly long before the adoption even occurred.
"I don't want them to regret coming here or being a part of our family," Lucifer admits.
Suddenly Diavolo laughs, catching Lucifer off guard completely.
"May I know what you find so funny?"
"Sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. But you remind me of a fussy hen worrying over her chick."
Lucifer looked away, a hint of blush appearing on his cheeks.
"If I knew you were going to dismiss it-"
"No. I'm not dismissing it. You're concerns are valid," The prince quickly says, "Why don't you bring them to Solomon?"
"Solomon?"
"Out of everybody we know, he'd be the only other person stuck between two worlds like MC. Perhaps he could give you some advice or help in come way?"
Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he thought of that shady sorcerer being anywhere near mc.
"Absolutely not. Solomon cannot be trusted."
"But do you really have any other choice?" Diavolo asks, "I'm certain he would never harm MC. He already has made it clear he wants to help. Besides, this isn't about either of you, it's about MC."
After tea, Lucifer walked home to HOL, with much to think about.
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Text
The Book of Time
The Louvre had many visitors that day, scattered around the floors, admiring the architecture, gasping at the historical paintings, and buying souvenirs. Satan was one of the many, he bought a cup with Van Gogh's flowers painted on it for Lucifer and a keychain with some modern art for Beelzebub. This routine of wandering through monuments, taking photos, and being a knowledgeable tourist got quite lonely at times. Although he loved the various artistic works he'd seen through the realms, he had a special affection for the human world.
It was then that he stumbled upon the Mona Lisa. He pushed through the crowd to admire its beauty. Her smile, curt and reasonable, reminded him of himself. However, the date reminded him of how little time you have left. Like wine, you aged beautifully, with an ever-radiant smile, laced with wrinkles, and your hair had wisps of grey from time spent. Little splotches on your skin were like stars, present, lingering, noticeable. This reminder of your aging brought him back to your yearly Peru trip together.
The visits to Peru became harder each passing year, your muscles aching. Satan was able to push through, holding your weak body in his arms while carrying a 50-pound backpack. You smiled at his dedication, he smiled back, but worry tinged his eyes. Neither of you thought about it, but it was a subtle reminder of change. Despite the cute llamas and Machu Picchu, he recalled that time as one of remembrance, happy but with hints of anguish.
As time passed, greying and thinning hair, eyelashes, and even your eyes began to dull. He watched your every move, cooked and ran errands. You both stayed indoors, choosing to travel through Google Earth. The library was cozy when it happened as if it was prepared for this moment.
The flickering of the lamps as you two were laid on a leather couch with plush pillows. He read you fairytales, morals, and comedic bits from your favorite plays. Chuckles filled the air as you collapsed onto his body, sighing as eternal sleep took you. "Are you okay?" He knew humans were frail. This shouldn't be happening. Running his fingers through your hair, tears falling, he didn't want it to happen now. Fingers twitching, as his breathing became shallow. He's usually not like this. But at least it was peaceful when you were with him. That's what he told himself at your gravestone, flowers laid with you.
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