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aspiringtrashpanda · 3 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY SATAN! I love you, you finnicky feline bastard. A friend of mine recently shared this great video essay with me, and I knew I had to substitute today's prompt to do something involving CATS. Find the prompt list HERE.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

DAY 20 Prompt: Hot Cider Halloween Costumes Featuring Cats: The Musical, chaos reigning in the House of Lamentation, and Satan's secret past revealed... This is 2.6k but I swear it's worth it

“Alright,” You were already reaching for the popcorn piled around Beelzebub. You didn’t miss his sharp side-eye, but Belphegor muttered reassurance that they could make more if Beel felt he hadn’t eaten his fill. “Are we all ready?”

A chorus of hummed affirmation was only interrupted by Beel’s concerned, “Satan isn’t here.”

Levi’s already tense frame managed to stiffen further, Beel’s realization prompting him to peer over his shoulder into the dark shadows of your bedroom, encroaching the circle of safety lit by the glow of the television screen. “Hey, where is he?”

“Oh…” Hesitating, you mumbled a swift, “I didn’t invite him. So anyway, shall we?”

It was Asmo that started that accusing melody reminiscent of when you’d been sent to the principal’s office as a child. “Oooo, is Satan in trouble?”

Mammon nearly choked on his cola. “Hey! What’s that mean?!”

“Nothing!” You knew it was best to stop a Mammon Jealousy Spiral™ before it spun out of control. With five pairs of eyes waiting for the big reveal, you let them down gently, “It’s just… Trust me, you don’t want to watch this with him.”

“Why?” Beel asked in between crunches of unpopped kernels.

“Yes.” The voice managed to freeze the blood of all those in the room, the spite spilling in a low song. “Why?”

Six pairs of eyes snapped to the door, panic rearing within your chest when you made out a familiar silhouette lounging in the doorway. Shit.

Satan’s vibrant green fingernails curled around the door knob, shut the panel with more force than necessary. His voice oozed contempt, anger, and for a moment, you wondered if you were his villain origin story. “Did you really think you could watch Cats without me?”

He marched into the room without another word, settling down beside Belphie and positioning himself closer than anyone else to the screen. Asmo instantly protested that he would damage his eye sight, and in response, Satan slipped on his reading glasses.

“Brain build. +2 observation and +3 intellect,” Levi muttered to himself, nodding in approval. Mammon shot him a look of disgust.

When you had still failed to press play, to start the movie, Satan fixed you with an impatient frown. “Well? Are we watching the movie or not?

“Satan,” You winced, “You’ve read the reviews.”

You thought you had been able to protect him.

“I need to experience it with my own two eyes.” Satan steeled his resolve, rolling his shoulders.

How were you supposed to protect him from himself?

So, you prayed to the Celestial Realm above and tossed the remote to Mammon. Though all he did we toggle the button to start the movie, your conscience felt as though the action alleviated some guilt.

Alas, about ten minutes into the movie, Satan’s rage moved from near to downright palpable. It was sour on your tongue. So sour that not even the extra buttery popcorn could rid the taste from your mouth. The whole point of watching Tom Hooper’s 2019 film adaptation of Cats, the Tony award winning musical, was to revel in the warmth of the dumpster fire, to laugh and jeer and jab at the uncanny CGI cat-people-things. All the fun of a Cats watch party was dampened by the vibrating bomb a little too close to the television.

“You don’t understand,” Satan cried, “This…This…This trainwreck of a film completely obliterates all that is Cats!”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Asmo argued, his eyes lighting up as Jennyanydots’ exterior fur was unzipped in a truly terrifying manner to reveal a snazzy little magenta number underneath. “Oh, a skin suit! How fresh~!”

Levi and Beel exchanged a very concerned glance, popcorn falling from Mammon’s mouth as his jaw hit the floor. Belphie simply snickered, eyes already shut. It wouldn’t be long before he tapped out of this plane of existence for the remainder of the night.

Though, Satan failed to falter. No, he carried on, “See, Cats is all about the whimsy, the theater, the rotating cast of characters that are not meant to represent anything larger than themselves! Why is Victoria suddenly the protagonist? Why remove the three-part harmony from the Gumby Cat number? These are entirely illogical choices!”

You stifled a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

Beel and Belphie bailed first, sometime after Satan paused the movie to explain the importance of the choreography in Grizabella’s Memory, how the director had completely fumbled the ball by allowing Victoria to touch the former Jellicle cat before the climactic lyrics pleading just that. Mammon was next, too unnerved by the dancers on all fours, lapping milk from a saucer. Satan was quick to explain that esteemed choreographer Gillian Lynne’s original moves aimed to be evocative of cats, unlike the movie monstrosity’s literal interpretation of feline behavior. Mammon didn’t stick around to hear the last of the critique.

Asmo hung around for a while, genuinely entertained by the uncomfortably horny touches and svelte frames of the dancers. Though, whenever he commented on Macavity’s physique, Satan would launch into a rant regarding Macavity’s enlarged role and how it only served to allow the mediocre A-Listers on the bill to show up to set for three days, and then bail for the rest of production. It got old after a while.

It surprised you that Levi lasted the longest, more intrigued by the lore hidden in the Cats original production than the film adaptation. He found it particularly fascinating that a plot had been shoe-horned into a show that was simply meant to showcase all different sorts of cats. He likened it to a slice-of-life anime introducing a shonen-esque training arc, when there was never a goal from the beginning.

Satan had nothing to say to that. You thought he was simply trying to keep his wrath in check, by that point.

It was well past midnight by the time your room had emptied out in its entirety, and the sheer oddity of the Old Deutoronomy number that closed out the movie had left you exhausted. As you drifted off to dreams that you were certain would seem less feverish than the film you had just seen, you couldn’t help but wonder: Why was Satan so invested in Cats? You managed to make note of your query in your D.D.D., as you figured it would come up again later.

Later just so happened to fall on October 20th–Satan’s birthday.

It would be an average morning to Satan, you were positive. As he typically followed a relaxed Sunday schedule of wake up, read in bed, shower, eat, read in the library, eat, read in bed, and then sleep, you knew that your plan would be flawlessly executed as long as it remained completely out of his orbit of interaction.

You sent out the messages the moment your alarm went off, bright (well, as bright as it could get in the Devildom) and early. Everyone swung by Asmo’s room at their assigned times, Raphael on hand with his sewing kit. As Simeon, Luke, and Barbatos prepared a lunch large enough to feed three Beelzebubs, Levi ran over the game plan with those who had been absent from the very important movie night.

When the messages–all faked and sent from the same room–entered the aether, you were positive that Satan would regard them as any regular chat.

11:31am - Lucifer in House of Lamentation (New) I expect everyone to be in the dining room for noon, sharp.

11:32am - Asmodeus in House of Lamentation (New) Okey dokey, Lucifer♡

11:32am - Mammon in House of Lamentation (New) How much is my presence worth to ya?

11:33am - Leviathan in House of Lamentation (New) 💀

11:33am - Lucifer in House of Lamentation (New) We’ve been over this. Raphael is coming by to tailor your Halloween costumes. Don’t be late.

11:34am - Satan in House of Lamentation (New) When did we decide on costumes? I have not been informed of the theme.

11:45am - Satan in House of Lamentation (New) Lucifer?

His footsteps sounded down the hall moments after the residents of the House of Lamentation and their guests had taken their positions around the dining room table. You beamed, glancing around at your assembled soldiers. There had been no hiccups. You had prepared the perfect surprise.

Or should you say, the purrfect surprise? For when Satan entered the room, Thirteen set off her traps, showering him in confetti and blinding him with flashing lights, the gathered demons, angels, and humans shouting, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SATAN!”

According to the plan, Satan blinked, disoriented from the assault of the reaper’s ingenious tech, and took a moment to rub his eyes, chuckling, “Oh, thank you, but…”

And bam! His vision clear, his jaw dropped as he finally managed to register the scene before him.

It was a normal Sunday afternoon, and a normal birthday lunch. A massive banner stretched above the hearth, marking the day of his creation, and Beel was already reaching for the cake in the midst of the plates laid out upon the tablecloth. All of Satan’s housemates grazed upon the spread, laughing, smiling, bickering and shouting.

Only they were dressed as cats. And not any cats, but full-blown replicas of costumes from Broadway’s production of Cats.

Ears and whiskers blended into faux fur and expert makeup, thick tails dragging on the ground and sticking out from the backs of chairs. Belphie was using his black and white mottled tail as a pillow, Beel using the fake claws to skewer Luke’s macarons a few plates over. Even Diavolo sported a thick crimson mane, Barbatos brushing it with a tool you knew Satan recognized from his own stash of grooming supplies.

Thirteen, wedged between yourself and Mephistopheles, was making a show of handling her fork and knife, regardless of the costume nails that clinked against the utensils with every minute movement. Simeon and Solomon, meanwhile, were attempting to teach Luke how to purr.

Part of you wished you could be in Satan’s shoes, could see the madness from his perspective. He had a better view of Levi snapping at Mammon when the latter tripped over his tail.

“What is this?!” Satan gawked, watching as Lucifer took a slow sip from his coffee, a concerned gleam to his dark eyes that had your insides twitching with the effort of restraining your laughter.

Lucifer responded as if it was the most obvious answer in the universe, his whiskers bouncing with the words. “We’ve gathered today to witness Old Diavonomy’s choice for the Jellicle Ball.”

Diavolo laughed that deep, joyful laugh, stepping away from Barbatos’s careful care (and if they had control over the fake ears, you were certain Barbatos’s would be plastered to his skull) to gesture towards the table with swinging arms. “Welcome, dear Satanshanks the Railway cat. You will sing for me, won’t you?”

“You’re joking,” Satan balked, and you could spot the gears turning in his head all the way from your seat. He clenched his hands into a fist, unfurled them. Opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

Asmo was leaning over the table, whispering to Raphael, “I bet he’s going to choose the Magical Mr. Mephistofelees. I mean, look how handsome he is! ♡”

Mephistopheles hissed in return and you held back a snort. You had to give him points for staying in character. Thirteen swiped at his ear–the cat one, not the real one–with her lip curled in irritation. You had a feeling he had accidentally spat in her food.

“No,” Raphael shook his head, ashy tabby fur glued to his cheeks stiff and unnatural. “It’s going to be Mammovity or Belphefur Jones.”

You glanced at Belphie, whiskers fully immersed in a bowl of pudding, tail still tucked beneath his head. You supposed that was better than Mammon, who you could tell was actively researching how much he could get for auctioning off these costumes.

“LOL you’re kidding, right?” Levi piped up, cyan claws clicking as he gestured to Beel, now on his sixth serving of food. “Grizabeela is the right choice.”

And Satan stood there, the confusion clearing in his eyes, that slightly delayed comprehension melting the tension in his shoulders to resigned acceptance. He sighed, threw his hands up in surrender. “Aright. Cut the theatrics. Who found it?”

“Found what?” You asked, coyly batting your eyelashes as you rested your chin on the padded knuckles of your cat costume.

“The tape.” Despite the conflicted emotions in Satan’s sea green eyes, he surveyed the paw-print cookies and noodle bowls with wonton cat ears with unrestrained curiosity. You waved him over, beckoning to him like a kitten hiding in an alley. The suspicion returned to his gaze.

“Leviathan.” Luke wasted no time throwing Levi under the bus. You supposed it wasn’t personal. The young angel never liked lying.

“HEY! Asmo helped!”

Unlike Levi, hiding under the table in fear of Satan’s wrath, Asmo only grabbed his own tail, waved it towards Satan with a playful wink. Satan grimaced.

“Satan,” Solomon smirked, silver spotted ears matching his hair perfectly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Broadway star? I would have loved to have seen your debut.”

Satan groaned, burying his face in his hands to hide the faint blush beginning to curl over the shell of his ears.

“Satan,” Simeon’s smile was leagues from kind, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was his intended expression, or the way the makeup morphed his features into something far more angular, far more intimidating. “I didn’t realize you could dance so well. Would a cat costume have helped the Lord of Masks with his choreography in the TSL musical?”

“Aw, don’t tease him!” Thirteen crowed, the glint in her eyes anything but protective, “His fur will get all matted.”

Bristling, Satan finally approached the table, accepting the proffered mug of coffee from Solomon with a clipped, “Thank you.” It made your chest swell with affection, how he feigned such annoyance when really, he wanted nothing more than to join the feline fiesta. You knew Satan would never lose control when cats were involved.

“Here!” Mammon passed a carton Satan’s way, “We got ya some premium milk for your birthday.”

“A lot of cats are actually lactose intolerant!” Luke protested, turning to Raphael for back up. The other angel simply stared at him, entirely indifferent.

“That’s quite alright,” Barbatos soothed, and a glass of creamy white liquid was placed before the guest of honor. “I brought some cursed cashew milk for our feline friend.”

“Very thoughtful, Barboria,” Lucifer approved, already uncorking a bottle of vintage demonus regardless of the day’s hour.

“I need all of you to fuck off, right now.” But contrary to his words, Satan was laughing, and the more he laughed, the more his shoulders shook with mirth, tossing the tension from his frame in a matter of seconds. When he looked at you, you beamed with all your teeth–including the prosthetics Asmo had applied to sharpen your canines.

“Alright, alright,” Diavolo chuckled, “Satanshanks is the birthday boy, after all. His word is law.”

He paused, drawing everyone’s attention to the Demon Prince at the head of the table. He stood, puffed out his chest and flexed his artificial cat claws. When he spoke, he did so with a bravado that demanded respect. “And if there’s anything important that we’ve learned today, it is not that Satan performed in the original Broadway production of cats, but that…”

Before Satan could catch on, the table burst into song, howling the climax of the final act in Cats in all sorts of different keys.

“A cat is not… A dog!”

And though Satan scowled, poured himself anothing mug of steaming hell coffee and threw it back like a shot of tequila, you knew this birthday would become another beloved memory. A memory, far from alone in the moonlight, and instead surrounded by all those he loved.

“Hey Asmo,” Satan spoke after a long swig of cursed cashew milk, “Can you do my makeup, too?”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST

#obey me month #day 20 #obey me satan #cats #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #happy birthday satan

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