#do not believe Satan's lies
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Why Lucifer is A Good Brother
*Somewhat chronologically in order everything is canon and if you want the reference Iâll give it to you*
*Heavy spoilers*
All angels consider each other siblings but out of the millions, possibly billions of angels. Lucifer chose to take five brothers and a sister (originally) under his wing.
He gave Mammon a challenge to become his apprentice and when he succeeded he welcomed Mammon with open arms and never rejected him afterwards even with all the trouble he caused.
He gave Asmodeus the nickname âJewel of the Heavensâ something he still loves to this day even as a demon.
He made Levi feel seen and useful even after the peace treaty between realms made his position obsolete.
He bonded with Beelzebub who was originally his guard and took him and his twin under his wings. He also introduced Lilith to the twins who became inseparable.
When Lilith fell in love he visited the Human World to see if this man was good and kind.
When Lilith broke a Celestial Law this man WENT TO WAR WITH AN ENTIRE REALM and GOD to save her. He asked his brothers to side with him and carried guilt for doing so after the war.
After the war, he pledged eternal loyalty to the man in control of the realm he was at war with for most of his existence all to save his sister despite the humiliation. He saved her even though she wouldnât remember him and he could never see her again and he carried the burden for thousands of years until MCâs ancestry was revealed.
The Devildom and Celestial Realm hold very strict laws so he took whatever means necessary punishment-wise to correct their behavior. In the Celestial Realm, it was so his brothers werenât outcast and in the Devildom it was so they werenât imprisoned or killed.
His brothers believe heâs more loyal to Diavolo than to them but he does this FOR them.
When the brothers struggled with becoming demons he was there to comfort them.
When he accidentally created Satan he took full responsibility for the absolute murderous maniac and did his best to raise the personification of hatred.
He cared about Satan so much that when the brothers were offered the chance to return to the Celestial Realm, the realm he once ruled, he told them to return and he alone would stay with Satan so he wouldnât be alone. Even though this decision meant he wouldnât be able to see his brothers and theyâd be seen as enemies, he wanted what he believed was best for them and what they wanted.
Lucifer did everything he could to master new demon magic, insert himself into Devildom politics, and befriend his enemies all for his brothersâ sakes to give them the same position of respect they had in the Celestial Realm.
In Nightbringer when he was incarcerated in Cocytus the fact his brothers were being held too enraged him to the point he broke free and even fought Diavolo believing he had something to do with it. And when Raphael cried having to sentence him, Lucifer wasnât angry he felt sorry for Raphaelâa former brother.
Lucifer continuously fights those many times stronger than him all for his familyâs sake.
Even though it pained him to see his former angelic brothers for the exchange program he remained cordial even though it was at first awkward and a reminder of all the pain of the past. He did this for his former brothers.
When Belphegor threatened treason and war, he lied to the ruler of the Devildom and hid Belphegor away to PROTECT him.
He lashed out at Mc and nearly killed them because he saw them as a threat to his brothers. First when Luke held the Grimoire that could control them and MC got in the way; then threatened them because they were making pacts with all his brothers; then why they betrayed him and found Belphegor because this could reach Diavolo and Belphegor would be punished for treason. In Nightbringer he originally remained suspicious and cold because MC could control his brothers without a pact and then had the grimoire which could control them. Lucifer only attacked MC when he was being protective of his brothers.
When Lucifer had amnesia he immediately bonded with his brothers again and revealed many things heâd done secretly to help them like pulling strings to get Mammon the car he worked so hard for.
He was even willing to sacrifice himself to let MC live who became family (or romantic interestâup to you) and his final ask was that they take care of his brothers.
Luciferâs methods seem strict, unforgiving, and cruel but remember this is HELL, the DEVILDOM. Law only recently was created and Diavolo may be forgiving but whoâs to say his father or descendants would be just as lenient? If his brothers donât behave it could mean the worst and he refuses to lose another family member.
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We need to talk about this
Can we pls take a moment to pause here and talk about this scene?
Because i really think it has not been given credit enough. Everybody is going on about Aziraphale lying to save the children of Job. And how important that step was to him.
But no-one seems to talk about Crowley here.
Because the thing is: Aziraphale expected to fall. I am not certain he thought that the present angels would have noticed his lie, but MAYBE Heaven/Her and MAYBE Hell/Him would somehow have gotten to know. Maybe he thinks somewhere is an alarm going off everytime an angels lies. Maybe he expects Her to see everything. He expected to fall.
But the undeniable truth is: there is only ONE beeing to know for certain that Aziraphale lied. And that is Crowley.
He could have taken Aziraphale to hell. Going down with an Angel in a towrope, telling Satan he had a special present for him. That he did an extraordinary deed. That he made an angel fall. It would probably have made him a Duke, gotten him some further promotion.
And maybe - only maybe - would have gotten him a lifetime with a demon-friend and companion on his side. Because Aziraphale expected to fall. He wouldnt have blamed Crowley for taking him to hell.
So this also was Crowleys chance to make a lifetime with Aziraphale by his side.
And he chose not to do it.
Because Aziraphale would not have liked it.
And that is, why this scene is so important. And really this image here is my point of view on this. What Crowley is doing here. â¤ď¸
And I really think this is so important when thousands of years later, Aziraphale asks Crowley to come to heaven with him. Because Crowley chose Aziraphale as what he is - millenia ago. He could have made them an "us" ages ago and chose not to.
And whatever the story behind Aziraphales offer* is, THIS is the moment it should be compared to. The moment when Crowley refuses to take his angel to hell, because he wouldnt have liked it there.
Crowley wouldnt have liked heaven. â¤ď¸
Thank you for reading - its been bothering me.
*(whether he really believed the Metatron and wanted Crowley to come with him, whether he was afraid and knew his offer would drive Crowley away, ... i know there are strong opinions on that, but only Neil will tell us in S3)
PS: the first pic i got in a FB-Group, i dont know who to credit for. the second pic is available on etsy as a print
#aziraphale#good omens#crowly x aziraphale#crowley#good omens fandom#neil gaiman#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens fanart#anthony j crowley#good omens 2#crowley saving aziraphale
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âAt least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe didâŚâ
Not that Iâm surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.
Okie dokie, youâre not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose Iâll poke the hornetâs nest. đ
I havenât talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasnât watching or interested in Steven Universe.
Itâs like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?
But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they donât know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, youâre not surprised by my comment.) So Iâll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.
If youâre just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didnât realize that Iâm a Bible-believing Christian and donât want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because Iâm going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.
Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 âChange Your Mind,â itâs alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldviewâit goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.
Anything thatâs pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.
You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didnât just create loveâHe is love. So when humans come along and do what weâve always done since the fall, and say, âIâd rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,â itâs not only an incredible slap in the face, itâs an attack on Godâs actual identityâand itâs destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.
But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is itâs biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, âI should get to love what I want and be who I am, because Iâm me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because Iâm the one calling it that.)â
Biblical worldview says âNo, wait, you shouldnât base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and youâre broken, so you canât ever be satisfied based on what you wantâthe Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. Youâre not how youâre meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God Heâll help you, Heâll fix whatâs broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: Heâll live in you and through you.â
Are we beginning to get the picture?
See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. Itâs not a new debate. Itâs Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, âThis is not how God said things should be,â and Satan says, âAre you sure thatâs what He said? He knows if you do this thing, youâll be like Him. Youâll be god: youâll get to decide âhow things should beâ for yourself.â
He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.
And then Steven Universe comes along and says âif every pork chop were perfect, we wouldnât have hotdogs.â
And has a cast of created being characters whoâs imperfections (Garnetâs forbidden âlove,â Pearlâs obsession, Amethystâs insecurity) are supposedly âthe best thing about them; what makes them who they are.â
And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.
And has a godlike Creator character who claims she âdoesnât needâ her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard thatâs impossible to reach called âperfectionâ and punishes them when they donât meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they canât meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.
And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: âyouâre only making things worse; youâre just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light canât help shining through,â etc.
White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to âbe themselves.â But what she means is, be how she created them to be.
And sheâs the bad guy. Sheâs playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, âIf God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then Heâs wrong. Our imperfections are what make us specialâuniqueâindividualsâfreeâand there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!â
And you know what?
If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.
But He is NOT.
God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we donât meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesnât understandâthere was never âChoose God or Choose Yourself.â There was only, âChoose God or Choose Nothing.â There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. Youâre not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least itâs yoursâyouâre jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that thereâs no other ship. Thatâs humans. Thatâs not God. / White Diamond didnât make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didnât make them for love. She made them for power. Thatâs not the God of the Bible.
Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didnât smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didnât leave us that way. He didnât give up on us. And He certainly didnât just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because itâs His voice puppeting us to say it.
No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we donât deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from othersâOR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and weâre not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming âIâm not a creature, Iâm a god!â
White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesnât know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. Sheâs never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, sheâd learn how silly and twisted her idea is.
Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldnât have hot dogs. But people arenât pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.
Christians arenât perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesnât mean we have no personalities. It just means we donât think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like heâs this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?
This is very pretty animation but itâs not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesnât ultimately get you that.
Thatâs all based on the premise that what heâs encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just wonât. Not in real life. Thatâs not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.
Youâll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. Youâll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.
And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesnât make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.
White Diamondâs not relational. Sheâs up high and distant. Thatâs not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.
So yeah. Thatâs the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.
#Steven universe#su#Pearl#amethyst#garnet#Steven universe fans#change your mind#white Diamond#Christianity#Christianâs#asked#answered#thanks#rattling the cage#Rebecca sugar
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To make you forget, if only for a while
How the kings (Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub) alleviate your fears and worries, at least for a little whileâ as best they can, and in their own unique ways.
I love the utter filth that comes from this game, but sometimes a little fluff is welcome, too. If this does okay, I may see about doing some of the other devils as well.
Also yes, I do fully believe that thereâs no way Leviathan doesnât have a larger source of water in his homeâ his bathtub just being his favouriteâ itâs not as though heâs going out to find any.
Oh, and I went with âBellâ as Beelzebubâs nickname, as itâs what Mammon calls him in Chapter 3.
Content Warnings: Mildly Suggestive (Mostly Beelzebub), devil behaviours, brief mentions of alcohol, brief & mild mentions of depression, (lightly described) anxiety
Reader: Gender Neutral
Your voice had fallen silent, trailing behind the trio in front of youâ and Satan cursed himself as he came to realize far too slowly that youâd withdrawn. His steps slowed, turning his head to see just what had garnered your attention⌠but was left with a foul taste in his mouth as he discerned what exactly it was. Your eyes were gazing down a street visible from where you were, seeing the frantic devils working tirelessly to restore or save their homes and businesses. Fires were being quelled, devils saved from rubbleâ trying their best to survive. Satan knew, however, that you werenât simply watching, he could see how your eyes watered, bordering on tears, as you walked helplessly along.
In your racing mind Satan knew that you were blaming yourself entirely, allowing yourself to wallow and drown in the guilt that had begun to eat away. The look in your solemn eyes told him everythingâ it was a darkness he was all too familiar with, one that gripped him often, one that was difficult to escape from, especially alone. He wanted to stop, to tell you that none of this was your burden to bear, that not a single citizen of Gehenna would ever blame you. You hadnât asked for any of this, hadnât wished for an angel and Satan himself to whisk you away into chaos.
Yet all the same he knew those doubts and worries would not be easily assuaged, that your mind would inevitably take his words and discard them as if they were worth nothing. No matter how sincere they may be.
No, Satan knew that words were simply not enough, not for thisâ not for the gravity of the weight you felt on your shoulders as you looked out into the destruction and havoc. Instead, he decided, quite quickly, on another course of action that always helped him when he needed it the most.
His pace halted entirely, not having to wait long before you bumped carelessly into his back, not realizing heâd come to a full stop in your stupor.
âSatan?â You questioned, breaking free from whatever thoughts had held you. âDid something happen?â You glanced towards Sitri, as if trying to see if heâd heard someone approaching, or trouble nearby, but he shook his head.
âNo,â He placed his hand atop your head, smoothing your hair out gently. âNothingâs changed⌠I just think we need a break.â
You pouted, studying his eyes and expression. âA break? Iâm fineâŚâ You lied through your teethâ heâd already learned your little human quirks, at least partially.
Your protests, however, went unlistened to, and you were given no more time to voice your concerns. Satan pulled you close, holding you around your waist as he had so many times before and started down an unfamiliar alleyway. Not once did he look back to ensure your companions were following, knowing that they, too, completely understood the situationâ you however, felt lost.
He led you, primarily, through the alleys and side streets you hadnât yet seen, keeping away from the carnage youâd been surrounded by. His pace was quick, determined, keeping you against him as he trekked. You couldnât quite grasp the sudden change of plans and direction, but your trust in Satan allowed you to relax and follow him as best you could (though you were sure without his arm around you, youâd have stumbled multiple times already). You knew that Satan would never harm you, not intentionally.
And, as expected, your intuition was correct and your trust well placed. There was not a single sign of danger where you now found yourself. In fact, it appeared more like a safe haven, mostly left untouched by the chaos that the angels had wreaked upon Gehenna.
It reminded you of the bar that youâd stopped in to rest before, though even more lively. It was larger, decorated with more lavish designs and furniture. Within were dozens of devils, relaxing and laughing with one anotherâ and each and every one rejoiced when their king came through the door. Shouts and hollers, an energetic flurry of motion as they led your ragtag group further into the depths of the building. Not once did Satan release his hold on you.
It warmed your heart to see how joyous his people were just to see him. Though, it alarmed you quite readily when their joy, energy, and questions were also turned towards you. They offered everyone drinks, began to loudly tell you all manner of stories from their lives here in Hell. It as a flurry of motion, of attention and an infectiously rambunctious attitudeâ a wonderful and welcome feeling, compared to the ghastly reminders just outside.
Satan and Sitri â and even Ppyongâ joined in on the revelry, encouraging the energies around them and rallying the morale. Unlike the last visit to a bar that youâd had, this time it was simply for fun and leisure. Satan kept you steady on his lap throughout the whole affair, hand idly massaging your sides or your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you every now and then, though each time you glanced back you were met with a shockingly gentle smile, and encouragement to pay more attention to his people.
He kept any grabby hands at bay, and a few were sent flying with a well-placed kick upon their weaker framesâ though this did little to quell them, if anything it had only added to their adoration. Though you noted that with each attempt to get just a little too close to you, his hold would grow a little tighter, heâd pull you more fully into his lap and against him with a snarl.
You hadnât laughed as much as you did then in what felt like your entire lifeâ hadnât met so many new faces, or heard such crazy tales, each one more absurd than the last. You leaned back into Satan, nestling yourself close to his warmth and comfort. When he turned to glance your way you stole a kiss from his parted lipsâ choosing to ignore the whoops and calls of the others in the roomâ and caught him off guard.
His eyes were wide as you leaned towards his ear. âThank you,â You murmured, so quiet you were sure that only he (and perhaps Sitri) could hear. âFor bringing me here, Satan.â You knew how much he cared for the denizens of Gehenna, how much he treasured and valued each and every one of them. And youâd realized thatâs exactly why heâd brought you to such a place, at such a dire time.
In your moment of heartbreak and darkness, heâd brought you to them. To a place you were sure heâd probably often escaped to himself when his mind spiraled and he couldnât quell it alone. He was showing you that these devils could be your safe space as well, your light out of the darkness that plagued your heart.
His people were his respite, and now they were yours as well.
This king of Hell had done so much for you, in such a short time⌠saved you more times than you cared to countâ so you allowed yourself to enjoy his, and his peopleâs, company well into the night. Until the drinks finally slowed, and heâd ushered you to a place to rest on the upper floor. It was then that he returned the kiss youâd stolen earlier, with fervour, as if imploring you to realize that you were never alone in this.
He was alarmedâ his gut telling him something was amiss, even if he wasnât quite sure what it may be. Mammon knew only that it had to do with that faraway look within your eyes, almost as if you were looking through the brilliant gold around you rather than at itâ it was not admiration, not his coveted greed, it was nothing. Mammon couldnât understand why you werenât pleased with your surroundings, or what all you may be thinking⌠just that he didnât like it.
He wanted you to look around and desire it, to want the world despite knowing that it was already yours, as he was. He loved to see your eyes alight with a fiery passion, your heart just as full⌠but somehow you had fallen far, right under his nose. A human folly, he was certain, and not one he had ever encountered. Yet this? This he did not want, he did not covet this new experience, this new emotion. He wanted to be rid of it.
Mammon lifted you with ease, and without warning, breaking your senseless focus immediately, drawing you towards him effortlessly. You clung to him in surprise, steadying yourself though you knew that to Mammon you weighed nothingâ heâd proven that already. You wound your arms around his neck, legs finding purchase on his hips, exclaiming his name in your surprise. His strength always amazed youâ then again, he was simply amazing overall.
His silence continued as he pressed a warm kiss against your forehead, holding you close with one arm, while pulling your head closer with the other before it settled on your cheek. Your face flushed pink, dumbfounded at the gentle touches heâd graced you with.
His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, and pressed against him as you were you couldnât help but shiver at the feeling of the vibrations. âWhat is bothering you, MC?â He questioned, eyes that looked like molten gold peering into yours with concern.
You stared back, silent, unsure how to answerâ or if you even should. You worried your lower lip with your teeth as you pondered, not missing the way his eyes flicked downwards at the motion, how he held you a little more tightly. âNothing,â you finally relented, though accompanied by a forced smile that didnât quite meet your eyes. âIâm alright.â
Mammon did not know doubt, or liesâ you knew that your words alone would calm him, come as a reassurance that there was nothing to worry over. And you told yourself that you would do better to keep your worries hidden. A white lie, you decided, was the better way to go.
Even if the weight of all the events thus far was pressing down around you, exerting more pressure with each new battle you found yourself surrounded by.
Yet, despite your reassurance, Mammonâs brows furrowed, and he shook his head. ââŚWhile I do not knowâor even understandâ doubt, MC, I know that there is something wrong. I just know.â
He looked pained as his eyes bore into yours, unyielding as he studied your expressions. His grip became a little tighter as he sighed. âCan you not trust me?â
The question made your breath hitch, and you shook your head rapidly. âI trust you!â You reassured, your heart wrenching at his assumption. Of course you trusted Mammonâ with everything in you, you did. You just didnât want to burden him with your worries, your fears, and your guilt. Youâd buried it so deeply within you throughout your journey that youâd thought that maybe youâd somehow escaped it⌠but it had consumed you the moment youâd finally attempted to rest, comforted by the massive devilâs presence. âI do. Itâs just⌠itâs nothing, really. Iâm just worrying over everything thatâs happening here in Hellâ if Satan hadn't saved meâŚâ
His eyes widened, and his forehead bunted against your own. âNever think that way, MC. Nothing here is your faultâ and there is no devil in Hell that thinks that it is.â
âEveryone is ecstatic that youâre hereâ even more than when they see me!â He continued, placing slow, soft kisses on your face between each breath.
You knew he was right, deep down. That if it hadnât been you, another descendent of Solomon could have just as easily ignited it all. It wasnât your burden to bear, just as much as it wasnât Mammonâs. Whatever happened to God â the event that had earned the angelâs ireâ was still a mystery.
You sighed, your eyes glossy as you looked up at him once more. âI know, I know. Iâm sorry.â
âNo need for apologies.â He straightened again, adjusting his grip on your bottom. âJust tell me when these thoughts plague you, and I will reassure you of every worryâ I am yours, after all. You have me at your side to deal with whatever you feel you canât. You are the only being to ever have this, the only one Iâll ever give it to.â
He grinned, sharp canines glinting in the light that shone into the room from the elegant (yet gaudy) golden windows, and you couldnât help but smileâ genuinely, this time. âThanks, Mammon. Iâll keep that in mind.â It was strange, you thought, that he could so easily clear your mind with his promises alone⌠but when you looked at him, it also wasnât hard to see why. He was powerful, confidentâ and he so proudly declared himself yours it was difficult to not believe him, to rely on him. âArenât you getting tired of holding me up, though?â
Your attempt to change the subject earned you a hearty laugh, that shook you in his arms. âNever!â As if taking your words as a challenge he tossed you upwards before catching you just as effortlessly, before securing you once again against him. âAnd if you donât believe me, Iâll parade you around Tartaros to prove it.â
âPlease, donât!â You laughed, though you could see that he was absolutely considering his own words. âMammon!â
âIt would do you well to go outâ and you can still rest as long as youâre in my arms.â You hit his chest, grumbling about how impossible he wasâ but there was little you could do to stop him from walking out the door, with you still held close. Though, despite your protests, you really didnât mindâ Mammon was right, seeing the devils of Tartaros going about their daily lives, seeing their smiling faces as they saw their king, and you⌠it really would do you good.
And, though you didnât give him the pleasure of telling him, being held by Mammon was the safest place you felt you could be. Untouchable, secure, and comforted by his warmth.
Even if it was still a bit embarrassing.
Your mind was elsewhere, lost deep within unwanted thoughts that forced their way through despite any efforts to hinder them. Leviathan, in a way, couldnât fault you for itâ you were only human, and your entire world had been upturned and threatened. But Leviathan himself was at your side, seated just an arms length awayâ could you not even consider him a worthy distraction? Surely his presence alone should earn your gaze, at least? Yet your eyes were staring at the floor, your brows furrowed.
It irked him, stirring feelings in his heart that made his eyes narrow and fists clenchâ especially when he wondered just what it was you would finally use to alleviate whatever thoughts you were unable to escape. Whoever, or whatever, it may have been, even if imaginary, made envy seep through him.
Had he not proven he would go to great lengths for you already, without question? Heâd even gone outside of the sanctity of his home for you, protected you from angels at the cost of his own wellbeing.
He sucked in a breath, steadying himself from whatever spiral he himself had nearly fallen intoâ now was not the time, not when he could simply take your attention for himself and eliminate the threats from the equation altogether. Motioning with lithe fingers, ropes quickly fell from the inky darkness of the ceiling above, entangling you despite your surprised protest. At least youâd called his name in your alarm.
The ropes dragged you closer to himâ surprisingly gentleâ and you wondered what his plan was, recalling just how pleasurable it could be to be bound before this devil king. Yet only your jaw was slowly traced by a singular long finger, no further touches gracing your skin. Instead his pale eyes met yours, contemplative. He did not seem exceptionally angry or upset, in fact he appeared oddly calm for having called on his favoured ability.
And then he stood, sighing, leaving you where you were. âCome, then.â He spoke, a chill running through your spineâ from suspense or anticipation, you werenât sure. Yet despite ordering you to follow, he hadnât intended to give you a choice to begin with, the strong ropes moving you for him, just behind (but so, so careful not to damage your frail, human skin).
He spoke nothing of where he was taking you, barely acknowledging that you were with him at all. At times his intense gaze met yours, as if checking on your wellbeing â though you surmised it was to ensure your attention was on him, as he wanted.
Any complaints you had, though, died on your tongue the moment he opened large double doors with a wave of his hand, and you were greeted with a marvelous sight that you couldnât quite comprehend.
Within it was not quite the same castle-like structures youâd come to know, it was somehow more cavernous while still retaining its elegance. In the center was a pool, of sorts, though if you were to describe it properly it was more akin to a man-made (devil-made?) lake within the confines of Leviathanâs estate. The waterâs surface was reflecting all across the walls and every item it could reach, creating a beautiful, moving pattern that was hard to tear your eyes away from.
You wondered if you should really feel as surprised as you do, that he had such a place tucked away, being as fond of water as Leviathan was.
âVery few have been here, Child of Solomon. I donât allow it.â He spoke bluntly, those agile fingers motioning for your freedom (and oh, you knew what else those hands could do). âBut,â He continued, turning to face you. âIt appears you need something to distract you. Come.â
His hand extended towards you, waiting impatiently for you to take it, and despite your surprise and tentativeness you did just that. He led you towards the waters, still fully clothed and unperturbed. âWaitâ shouldnât I get a bathing suit, or something?â
He stopped, a quizzical look upon his beautiful features. âIf you must worry about your clothes, just remove them.â As if assuming you would do just that he released your hand as quickly as heâd taken it, stepping into the water without waiting any longer for you to decide.
It wasnât hard to see he belonged there, his pale skin practically glowing in an ethereal light. Soon enough he vanished into the depths, only to resurface a ways away, floating lazily despite the weight of his clothing.
Hastily you joined him, donning only your undergarments (not quite as confident within such deep waters while being weighed down). Yet when his hands were on you you knew that even if you even began to sink towards the bottom, heâd keep you afloat with ease. âYouâre only the second outside of myself Iâve allowed in here.â
ââŚWhy?â You murmured, enjoying the feel of the small, cool waves on your skin.
âBecause itâs mine.â A simple answer, blunt as always. âBut ⌠so are you. So I donât mind you being here, as long as your attention is on me, MC.â
Your heart felt warm as you realized how much you meant to himâ that he would break his own comforts for your own, in a way. Even if it was borne from wanting your attention only on him and nothing else. âSorry, Leviathan,â You murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, which met with a strong hand pulling you closer to him. âFor being so distracted before. Thank you for showing me this.â
He hummed in response, more taken with your body in his arms than with your gratitudeâ though you could very easily see he enjoyed it.
Heâd succeeded in claiming your attention, keeping it upon himself with ease now that you were reminded that not everything in your situation was a bad thing. That you had devils like Leviathan at your side, and that they would do anything to assist you. Leviathan, who so rarely let others in but who opened himself to you without thought or hesitance.
Even if Leviathanâs needy hands barely gave you a momentâs rest, itching for your touch at every turn. Youâd give him everything he wantedâ how could you deny him, after all?
The room felt as though it was nearly split down the center as Beelzebub glanced aroundâ on one side was the chatter and planning, a tense atmosphere of grumbling devils attempting to decide what to do⌠on the other, was you. Around you was quiet, abnormally soâ the devils had let you be, he supposed it was to give you time to breathe and catch up with everything that had transpired.
Yet to Beelzebub, you simply looked pitiful, too sad for his liking. Your eyes were staring blankly out the window, sitting idly and unmoving on the sill. Yet you werenât really looking at anything, your eyes barely moving even when there was an outburst on the other side of the room, or a bird flew by your window.
Clearly, despite what the others may think, you didnât need time to yourself to breathe. In fact, it seemed as though leaving you to your own devices was only making things worse in that little human mind of yours. And, being who he is, Beelzebub was more than willing to bend the rules and expectations just to make you smile again.
He could sense Baelâs cautious yet curious gaze on his backâ unwilling to believe that his king would simply sit idly. And he wasnât wrong, really. Yet Beelzebub didnât do anything immediately, instead standing and making his way over towards you rather languidly, lazily as though he just wanted to banter with youâdespite being told to leave you be.
You didnât react to his approach, or even seem to hear his intentionally loud footsteps, utterly lost in whatever thoughts were plaguing you. If this were another time, or he were any other devil, it may have been concerning how unaware you were of your surroundings in an unfamiliar environmentâ even if it was safe.
However, he was not another devil, and was still Beelzebub. He looked at this, instead, like an opportunity he simply couldnât let go of and let pass by. In one swift motion you were hoisted upwards, a garbled noise of surprise escaping you as you were thrown over a strong shoulder. His hand kept you steady, lying comfortably on your lower back (if a little lower than necessary). Instinctively you reached out to grip anything you could to ground yourself, hands clinging to whatever you could reach on him. You knew that no matter how irresponsible Beelzebub may be, he would never drop you, but it was still difficult to settle when youâre quite literally thrown like a sack of potatoes.
âLetâs go out and play, MC.â His voice was a purr, adjusting you quickly before the others could react and taking off out the door with a surprising burst of speedâ you hadnât even known he could move that quickly!
There was chaos behind you near immediately, and you could see the othersâ particularly Baelâ preparing to stop their quick-footed king from escaping, especially with you in tow. However, as much as the efforts were doubled by your presence, they were also incredibly hindered, not wanting to harm you in any way while attempting to stop the ever-troublesome man.
âBell!â You protested, though he could hear your insincerity within your voice, a bubble of laughter escaping you at the audacity of the unanticipated situation youâd found yourself in. âWhere are we even going?!â
The gloom that had surrounded you already began to crumble, and he laughed as he replied. âSomewhere fun!â He didnât elaborate, however, as he dealt with the devils in his way, deftly outmaneuvering them.
Looking back once more, you couldnât help but pity Bael, seeing now what it was he dealt with, but at the same time you were thankful for Beelzebub and his free spirited nature. Youâd forgotten that, though the situation was incredibly serious, you were still allowed to have fun.
Almost as quickly as it had begun, the chaos came to a close, Beelzebub successful in his escape, and you now safely hugged within his arms after heâd set your feet back down securely to the ground. His grin was positively infectious as you took a step back from him, and you had to stifle your laughter. âThere!â He exclaimed, fixing your hair idly as he spoke. âNow, letâs find someplace fun to waste some time in. Letâs let loose, MC.â
Grasping your hand he pulled you along through the streets, searching out a familiar haunt that would be filling in with devils soon. He didnât pay mind to the confused looks he got along the way, loudly talking with you all the while. He didnât let you rest until youâd arrived at wherever it was that heâd thought of.
The rooms were dimly lit, but there was a well-stocked bar at the far end of the largest one, the music blaring from speakers already despite guests just beginning to filter in. It wasnât terribly large, more quaint than youâd expected for Beelzebub, but it was clear he was a common sight there, as no one batted an eye in his direction as he led you further in.
You clung to him as the crowd steadily grew, unwilling to be parted from your guideâ and it wasnât as though you disliked touching Beelzebub, either. There were certainly no complaints from him, either, as his hands groped and prodded your body in return. It wasnât long before he led you to the dance floor, where his hands explored more boldly, front pressed against your back as you swayed to the music.
You knew it didnât matter if you were any good at dancing, Beelzebub simply wanted you to lose yourself to the music, and more importantly with him.
It wasnât difficult to persuade you, letting his body guide your movements, losing yourself to his touch and the vibrations in your body from the sounds around you and the mesmerizing lights.
You could hear his praises when his hot breath ghosted by the shell of your ear, sharp teeth toying with the cartilage. His lips finding your neck, his hands dipping lowerâ it was so easy to lose yourself with Beelzebub, that your worries melted away. Not even the inevitable repercussions that were to come from your escape could bother you.
You were thankful for how carefree the king who held you was, that heâd decided to encourage it within you, too.
Though you werenât sure how long you were among those on the dance floor before Beelzebub inevitably led you towards the dark bathroom, your bodies barely parted for a moment. You locked the door behind the two of you, opting to lose yourself to him in another way, even if someone heard you.
#what in hell is bad#whb#prettybusy what in âhellâ is bad?#whb Satan#whb leviathan#whb mammon#whb beelzebub#whb Satan x reader#whb leviathan x reader#whb mammon x reader#whb Beelzebub x reader#whb x reader#what in hell is bad x reader#~take time to relax#the brain rot is so real#is it bad I want to write for Gabriel?
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Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 15
Word Count- 5.8k
Warnings- Swearing, violence, talks of bad mental health, mommy issues, robbing???
âAlastair talk to me, please! What is going on,â Tears roll down my face as Alastair speeds down the dark back roads of Mystic Falls.Â
âIâm not supposed to talk to you about it,â Alastairâs gruff words escape his mouth and I look at him in confusion and anger.
âWhat the fuck do you mean you canât talk to me about it? What is it? Because all I know is that my supposed friend somehow knows Klaus. The big bad wolf Klaus!â
My breathing is shallow and harsh as I look at my friend. Or not friend. I guess. Alastairâs hands grip the leather steering wheel, and I watch as he grinds his teeth together so hard that I almost believe his teeth will fall out if he does open his mouth.
âI. Canât. Tell. You.â
Alastairâs words donât stop the tears still streaming down my face.Â
âWhat can you tell me then, huh? Was all of it a lie? Our friendship? Everything I confided in you about? Everything you told me about yourself? Huh,â My voice gets louder with every question, âWas all of it some stupid fucking lie, Alastair! Some sick fucked up way of Klaus getting into my head! I never did anything to the guy! So why me?!â
I jeer forward as the car comes to a screeching halt, âI said I canât tell you! For fucks sake!â
Iâm frozen in fear as I look at the black veins under Alastairâs eyes. Eyes that are now looking directly at me. Oh god.
âYouâre aâŚâ
âVampire.â
â
BEEP BEEP
âWhat the hell,â I groan as I throw my hands over my ears to hide myself away from the stupid phone alarm.Â
âSorry,â Elenaâs voice comes from beside me on the bed as I feel her move around. The buzzing continues for a moment before a click of Elenaâs finger stops it.
âWhat time is it,â My morning voice comes out harsh.
âFive,â Elenaâs sheepish voice responds and I let out a loud groan.Â
âElena, what the hell. Go back to sleep. We donât have to be up for school for another 2 hours,â I try to reason with my friend but sheâs already standing up.
âI canât. Ric and I are sparring today. Heâs going to teach me how to defend myself. Remember? I offered for you to join.â
I roll back over onto one of Elenaâs spare pillows and close my eyes.
âSleep. I need sleep.â
â
âYouâre a⌠what do you mean youâre a vampire! You canât be, youâre a bartender,â My voice is shaky as small sobs escape my mouth. Alastair watches me as I try to lean as far away from him as I possibly can in the tiny sports car.
âI didnât realize I had to be one or the other,â His dry voice makes a nasty laugh escape me.
âYouâre one of his arenât you,â I bite at the reference to the devil himself.Â
âIâm not his. ButâŚâ Alastair's eyes narrow as he rubs a hand over his face, âIâm loyal to him. You donât understand Y/N.â
âThen help me understand Alastair! Because right now all I know is that youâve lied to me this entire summer!â
âJust like youâve lied to me about all your friends being supernatural,â Alastair responds accusingly, and clench my fists.
âThat is not the same and you know it. I thought you were human! I was protecting you!â
âAnd Iâm protecting you!â
I flinch back as Alastair yells and raises his hands in exhaustion.Â
âProtecting me from what? And what does Klaus have to do with it?â
Alastair looks at me once more and then turns his attention to his hands. I shake my head in annoyance, âYou canât tell me,â I say copying his words from before.
âTake me to Elenaâs.â
âKlaus said to-â
âDoes it look like I give a flying fuck what Klaus, AKA Satan Incarnate, wants! Just take me to Elenaâs,â A sob escapes my mouth and for a moment I think Alastair is going to continue driving me to my house but with a deep sigh he puts the car into drive and does a U-turn in the middle of the street back towards the Gilbert residence.Â
We drive in silence for the next 10 minutes. The only thing being heard in the car is the sounds of my sniffles.Â
Thankfully we reach the driveway and before Alastair can even put the car into park, Iâm unbuckling my seatbelt and throwing myself out of the car.Â
âY/N! Wait,â Alastairâs voice calls from behind me as I quickly climb the stairs.
I jump back slightly as the porch light turns on and the front door opens to Jenna standing there in her fluffy purple robe. Sheâs standing defensibly as she holds a bat but as soon as she sees itâs me she drops it.Â
âY/n? Whatâs wrong,â Jenna asks me in a mother-like tone.
âY/n, would you just wait for a second,â Alastair's voice gets closer.
âLeave me alone!â
Jenna seems confused as to why Alastair and I are fighting. Probably because weâve been attached at the hip all summer. But that doesnât stop her from opening up the door and letting me run into her arms.Â
âJenn, whatâs going on,â Ric comes down the stairs hastily. At the sight of my tear-stained face, his hunter's instinct seems to kick in as he rushes over to both myself and his girlfriend.Â
âGo away, Alastair,â I turn one last time to the almost upset-looking man standing on the porch.Â
Ric pushes both Jenna and I behind him as he stares down Alastair.Â
âI think itâs best if you leave now,â Ric and Alastair stare each other down for a moment before Alastair looks around at me.
âIâll see you soon.â
â-
âY/n,â I feel a shove to my shoulder and I press my face harder into the soft duvet, âY/n! Wake up weâre going to be late!â
âLate for what mom,â I groan into my pillow and I hear Elenaâs laugh from above me.
âFor the first day of Senior year. You know if weâre not there on time Caroline will march herself over here,â At the mention of the blonde I instantly sit up straight. So fast in fact, that Elena quickly takes a step back so we donât hit heads.
âWerenât you going to go fight with Ric or something,â I say as I rub the sleep from my eyes and watch my friend put her books into her backpack.Â
âI already did,â She laughs to herself, âYouâve been sleeping the entire time. Now get up and get dressed. Jenna made pancakes and Jeremy and Theo are going to eat them all if we donât get down there.â
I sigh deeply as I throw my legs over Elenaâs bed, the one Iâve been sleeping in for the past three days since Alastair dropped me off here.Â
âI think our brothers are dating,â I jokingly say out loud and Elena stops for a moment and thinks to herself before nodding along with me.
âYa, youâre probably right. Should we tell Bonnie,â I roll my eyes at my friendâs question and put my feet into the bunny slippers Jenna bought for me yesterday.Â
âI think she already knows,â I stand up and walk past her to the small duffle bag thatâs comprised of everything Iâd need for my week-long sleepover at the Gilbertâs. I head into the bathroom and start changing and getting ready for the day.
âYou really donât mind me staying here,â I yell loud enough so Elena can hear me through the door.
âOf course not,â She responds earnestly, âBesides, youâre not the only one who needs the company.â
At her response, I sigh deeply and then look at myself in the bathroom mirror. Iâd be repulsed and surprised by my appearance if I hadnât already been like this for the past three days. Dark circles take up half my face, a face that looks like it hasnât seen the sun in twenty years and I think Iâve started to lose weight, hence the hollowness of my cheeks. Itâs been hard to sleep or eat these past few days because every second Iâm picturing the dark veins under Alastairâs eyes, the sounds of Dana and Chad dying, and the victorious smirk on Klausâ face. The latter who weâve thankfully not heard anything about since that night at the school.
âY/n! You ready?â
I try to dab some concealer and blush onto my face but alas I still look like a dead person. Ironically kind of like half the population of Mystic Falls since Klaus came to town.Â
âYa, letâs do this,â I open the door and try to smile at my best friend.Â
â
âHere we are. Senior year,â Caroline says breathlessly as she, Bonnie, Elena, and I stand in the parking lot of the school.
âYippee,â I say under my breath sarcastically and I hear Elena laugh.Â
âAnyone else think this should feel slightly more empowering,â Bonnie asks and I have to fight back a yawn.
Caroline throws her hands up as none of us say anything, âOkay, so prank night was a bust but we are accepting it and we are moving on.â
âDana and Chad canât move on,â I bite and then quickly cringe when I realize how nasty that came out.
âSorry,â I wince and Caroline sighs and places a hand on my shoulder.
âI know. And what happened was horrible, but we need to try to push past it,â She smiles at me but I canât seem to find the strength to return it. How are we just supposed to push past the fact that two innocent teenagers were ruthlessly murdered?Â
âYouâre right,â Bonnie tries to lighten the mood as we start walking towards the school, âI mean, why should I let the fact that my boyfriend is seeing the ghost of his dead girlfriends hinder this experience?â
âAnd the fact heâs dating my brother,â I say under my breath and Bonnie shoots me a confused look.Â
Caroline looks at me oddly before shaking her head, âAnywaysâŚYes, and why should I let the fact that my boyfriend was turned into a hybrid put a damper on an otherwise fabulous day.â
âSure, and why should I let the fact that my friend ended up being a henchman of the devil himself, who for some reason likes to terrorize me,â I sarcastically say out loud and Bonnie and Caroline both cringe at the mention of Alastair. Two days ago they came over to the Gilbertâs and I filled them in on everything.Â
âTodayâs our anniversary,â Elenaâs voice makes Caroline, Bonnie, and I halt, âTechnically, Stefan and I met on the first day of school last year.â
âYeah, you win,â Caroline says and I fight the urge to roll my eyes because an anniversary doesnât really seem to be the worst thing thatâs happened so far, but whatever.
âCanât we just go home? Come back tomorrow. Or just drop out,â I try to reason but Elena grabs my shoulder and shakes her head.
âNope. Weâre doing this. Weâre putting it behind us and becoming new people. New year. New life.â
I raise an eyebrow at my friendâs sappy words, âYa. Okay. I guess.â
â
âTheo says he doesn't have a pencil. So Iâm going to go meet him and then Iâll see you guys in class,â I tell Elena who shoots me an odd look.
âDoesnât have a pencil? Itâs the first day of school.â
I just shrug. Not really surprised at my brotherâs lack of planning, âHe does this. Iâll see you soon,â I wave to her and walk towards the cafeteria where Iâm expected to meet my brother.Â
Right as I turn a corner though Iâm knocked into a hard chest.
âOuch, Iâm so sor-â
My words stop as I look up to the person I bumped into and freeze when I meet Alastairâs deep brown eyes. Compared to me, Alastair looks as pristine and gorgeous as ever. But I guess when youâre an immortal being, eyebags arenât something you really have to worry about. Heâs a dark black top that Iâm sure is designer and brand new-looking lacks and loafers.Â
âY/n, good morning,â Alastair says in a soft voice as if weâre the best of friends still.
âWhat the hell are you doing here,â I growl at him and Alastair shoots me a confused look.
âIâm a student here, remember?â
I shake my head in annoyance, âYouâre also a vampire,â I whisper-yell out the word so passersby donât think Iâm crazy, âYou donât go to school.â
âStefan, Caroline and now Tyler do. So why canât I,â He asks and I open and close my mouth about a hundred time trying to find an answer.Â
âThatâs not the same!â
Alastair smirks, âAnd why isnâtâ
I raise my hands trying to find a reason and practically growl when I canât think of one, âHow old are you anyway? I bet youâre old. Why would someone old want to come to high school? Itâs not like the movies, where everyone breaks out into song and dance. It actually fucking sucks! So just do everyone a favor and leave!â
I look around to see that some people have started watching us because of my little outburst. At the onslaught of eyes, my hands start to shake and I bite down hard on my lower lip.
âWhat the hell are you staring at,â Alastairâs once calm voice darkens as he growls out to the students. The latter quickly move on at the harsh look and words.Â
Alastair looks back at me and his harsh look returns to a calm one so fast I think itâs going to give me whiplash.Â
âIâm here for you,â He says matter-of-factly, âAnd to answer your other question Iâm 645 years old.â
I blink. And blink. And then blink again.Â
âYouâreâŚâ
Alastair smiles at me, âOld. Ya.â
âY/N! Bless your kind and spirited heart for blessing me on this wonderful Monday morning,â Theoâs overdramatic voice pulls me from my stupor as Iâm being slightly pulled back by my bag.Â
I turn over my shoulder and see Theo unzipping and then going through my backpack.
âYou got any drugs in here,â His question makes me shoot him a glare and he laughs.
âJoking! Kinda. Anyways, I have football practice after school so donât wait up for me,â He finally pulls out a handful of pencils and I realize Iâm definitely going to have to stock up since I know heâs going to lose them all by next week.Â
âOh hey, Alex,â Theo waves to Alastair and then puts a hand on my head, and then pats me like a dog.Â
âBye, my favorite nerd.â
I watch annoyed as my little brother practically skips down the hall, shooting fist bumps at other guys and winking at passing girls.Â
âHe does know my name isnât Alex right,â Alastair questions and I laugh.
âI donât think he cares,â I turn around and am about to smile along with him but instantly stop when I remember that weâre not actually friends. At least not anymore.Â
âJust leave me alone, Alastair. I donât want you here,â I walk past him and make my way down the hall towards Alaricâs classroom. Sadly though I hear Alastairâs expensive shoes behind me.Â
âYou have Ricâs class? Great! So donât I,â He says as he easily catches up to me and walks beside me until we get to the classroom.Â
As soon as we enter Ric shoots me a nervous look and I shrug, not really knowing what to do. Alastair was old, really old. If he wanted to kill us we wouldnât be able to stop him. I quickly shoot down in the seat in front of Elena who looks at me with the same look as Ric. Caroline, who is currently shooting daggers at Alastair, sits beside her. Alastair sits down unphased in the seat on my right and I freeze when I turn to the person behind him. Yoda. Well, technically Ripper Stefan now.Â
âNice to see you, Y/n. Iâve missed you,â Stefanâs sarcastic words donât seem to phase me as I glare at him.
âI wish all the vampires in this town would just die. For real,â I hear an insulted gasp from behind me and I turn back to Caroline, âNot you though.â
Caroline nods her head apporvingly.Â
âWelcome back, seniors,â Ricâs voice turns my attention to the front of the classroom, âLetâs, uh, turn our brains back on starting with, uh, this countryâs original founders the Native Americans.â
âWhat about the Vikings?ââ
The British voice sends chills down my spine as a wave of nausea washes through me. Flashes of prank night cloud my vision and the smell of blood fills my nose.
âWell, thereâs no evidence that Viking explorers actually settled in the United States,â Ric tells Rebekah as I watch in horror as she plants herself into the seat on my left.Â
âWho are you?â
Rebekah smiles up at Ric, âMy name is Rebekah. Iâm new and history is my favorite subject.â
I bite down hard on my lip as Rebekah turns her head and looks at me. A sickeningly sweet smile comes onto her face as she sends me a small wave. I quickly whip my head forward at Ric who looks just as clueless as everyone else. New year, new me, my ass.
â
Adjusting my reading glasses, I place my book down on the grass momentarily. Caroline stands about 10 feet away with the other cheerleaders as they stretch before practice. Elena is also out here, but sheâs on the track running. She had invited me to go running with her but I just laughed in her face thinking she was joking. When I realized she was indeed actually asking me, I once again laughed in her face and then told her to have fun and Iâd be sitting on the grass reading my book.Â
So for the past 15 minutes, thatâs what Iâve been doing. Or at least have been trying. With the loud cheering music, the sounds of footballers hitting one another, and the hard-ass ground Iâm sitting on, itâs been kind of hard to focus.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â
Carolineâs angry voice has me perking up my head as I look up and surprisingly see Rebekah stretching next to her.Â
âSounds like you have an opening on the squad,â Rebekah says and Caroline glares at her and then looks over at me quickly.Â
âActually that spot just got filled,â Rebekah follows Careâs eyeline to me and we both have a confused look on our faces.
âExcuse me,â I question my friend and she walks over to me.
âYa! Y/n is actually on the team now,â Caroline says matter-of-factly and I cringe at the thought.
âYa Caroline,â I get her attention and she hums, âI canât join. One because I literally would rather die, and two because gun shot to the shoulder remember?â
I gesture to my shoulder and Caroline opens and closes her mouth and then rolls her eyes in defeat before going back into line.Â
âYou were shot?â
I frown as Rebekah almost sounds caring as she asks me. She has a weary expression on her face and I glare at her.Â
âYou,â Caroline points at Rebekah, âDonât talk to her. Why are you here?â
Rebekah leans down to stretch ignoring the blonde vamp.
âHey,â Caroline prods, âHey.â
Rebekah stands up and stares at my friend and honestly, I wish I had some popcorn to watch whatâs about to go down.Â
âYou canât just come here and infiltrate all of our lives.â
âIâm only interested in yours,â Rebekah says snarkily, âYour spunk, your popularity,â She looks over at Tyler who is running drills next to Theo, and then back to me, âMaybe even your boyfriend and best friend?â
âOh, no she didnât,â I ooh at them and Caroline glares at me. I cringe and pretend to go back to reading. Iâm totally still watching both of them over my book though.
Rebekah walks away from Caroline but not before sending me a smile, one that I donât return. Caroline looks at me like she doesnât know what to do and I just shrug because I honestly donât know either.Â
Caroline walks off and I try to go back to my book but right when Iâm about to focus the sound of a whistle is blown.
âOh! Come on!â
I frustratedly watch as the football coach dismisses the football players way too early. Strange. And itâs not long before Theo is running up to me.Â
âWhatâs up bitch,â He gests as he looks down at me.Â
âIâve told you not to call me that,â I sniff and then cover my nose in disgust, âYou stink dude. God damn.â
My brother sniffs the air and then smirks, âThatâs the smell of your boy making first string this fall. And, you call me a dumbass, so why canât I call you bitch. Also, itâs not like Iâm doing it deragotivly. Iâm a feminist you know. I loveeee women.â
âThereâs so much to unpack with what you just said,â I reach my hand up and Theo takes it and pulls me up. Careful to not pull too hard on my shoulder, âI call you a dumbass because you are a dumbass.â
Theo thinks to himself for a moment before smirking again, âA handsome dumbass.â
âYou stress me out,â I groan as we start walking towards the school.
âAnd yet you canât live without me.â
âÂ
Elena pulls her car into my Theo and Iâs driveway and I sigh deeply when I see my mother's car parked in the driveway.
âYou sure youâll be alright? You can just come back to mine. I really donât mind,â Elena tells me from her seat and I heavily debate the idea before shaking my head.
âI canât live in your bed forever. Besides, if I stay over too long Theo will have questions. Questions Iâm not ready or even sure how to answer.â
Elena nods solemnly as I open the door and get out.Â
âWell, call me if you need anything alright,â I nod at her request, âIâll see you tonight at the fire. Donât be late or youâll have Caroline to speak to.â
I flinch at the idea of making the already pissed-off blonde mad and nod. I give Elena a wave and slowly trudge my way up the stairs. I quietly open the front door, hoping my mother is on some business call and doesnât realize Iâm here.
âY/n? Is that you?â
Damnit.
âUh, ya. Itâs me,â I clench my jaw as my mother enters the living room. She looks me over as if Iâm just going to disappear. Which right now I wish I would.Â
âI didnât know when youâd be coming back,â She says in a hopeful voice that irks me.Â
âYa, I didnât either,â We stand in silence for a moment before I start walking to my room, âI have to get ready for the bonfire tonight.â
âWait!ââ
My motherâs voice has me stopping in place and staring at the wall in front of me. I wait for her to speak and for a moment I donât think sheâs going to.
âI miss you,â Her strained voice has my eyes instantly tearing up, âI miss hearing you here. Laughing into your books, or hearing your music play in your room. Besides Theo, itâs so quiet here. You seemed so happy. Iâm so sorry I changed that.â
Her apology and words have me clenching my fists in anger, âHappy? Happy! Do you really think I was happy? Mom, I was miserable! The only reason I was in my room reading my books and listening to my music was because I had nothing else! Nothing else to laugh about or smile about. And honestly, Iâm not even surprised you never noticed either of those things since you were always gone,â I glare at my mother who is now crying at my confession, âYouâre too busy focusing on your clients that you never even noticed your own daughter drowning in her head right in front of you. So no, I donât want your apology. Because whatâs done is done. â
Without another word, I turn around and walk to my room, slamming my door behind me.Â
â
âIâll lure Stefan away from the bonfire then when heâs distractedâŚâ
âIâll shoot him,â Ric finishes off Elenaâs sentence.Â
I watch from my desk as the Scooby Gang try to come up with a plan to subdue Stefan at tonightâs bonfire.Â
âCanât Bonnie just juju him or something,â Damon questions. Heâs currently sitting on top of my desk.Â
âIâm trying to keep Bonnie out of this. I donât trust that Stefan wonât hurt her,â Elena reasons and I nod.
âIf Stefan tries to hurt my girl heâs going to have another thing coming to him,â I say as I pull out both of my fists. Damon looks down at me and rolls his eyes dramatically and pushes my fists back down.Â
âPut those away, Rocky. Youâre staying away from Stefan as well tonight.â
âExcuse me?â
âCaroline, are you covered,â Elena asks the blonde vamp.
âYes! I will make sure that the old Forbes jail cell is prepped and ready.â
âWeâre forgetting a key player here. Rebekah? Wherever Stefan goes, the blonde ponytail tends to follow.â
At Damonâs mention of the blonde, I growl under my breath.
âWhich is why itâs your job to keep her away,â Elena answers him.
âHow? Sheâs an original. The last time I checked, we were out of daggers.â
âWe could always wake Elijah up,â I say a little too quickly, and everyone in the room deadpans me, âOkâŚguess not.â
âSo then preoccupy her with your charm,â Elena says and I snort out a laugh.
âMight have better luck finding the dagger,â Ric says and my snorting gets louder.
âSorry, Iâm late. Whatâs going on?â
Tyler entering the room turns everyoneâs attention and I use this to try to sneak Damonâs wallet out of his pants pocket.Â
Theyâre all conversing and Iâm about to get it but Damon stands up from his seat and the wallet falls out onto the floor in front of me. Damon seems to be entranced with whatever everyone is talking about to notice so I quickly lean down and grab the wallet. I smirk evilly to myself as I see the wad of bills and quickly grab some and put them in the pocket of my sweatshirt. I loud gasp jolts me and I drop the wallet.
âI didnât do anything!â
I freeze and see Tyler on the floor unconscious with Damon over him.
âWhat are you doing?â
Caroline runs over to her boyfriendâ
âHeâs been sired,â Damon says as he stares down at the boy.Â
âWhat,â Ric asks speaking for all of us.
âSired. He feels loyal to Klaus because Klausâ blood created him.â
âUh oh,â I whisper as I slide the wallet onto the desk in front of me.Â
âLoyal how?â
âHeâll seek acceptance from his master. Itâs really rare, but maybe not so much in hybrids.â
Caroline looks up to Damon, âSo how do we fix him?â
âGet a new boyfriend.â
â
âJust stay behind me and try not to go anywhere with Stefan alone ok?â
Elenaâs worrisome expression makes me sigh, âIâll be fine Elena. No pissing off Yoda. I got it. Heâs not the only vamp Iâm trying to hide from tonight.â
I cautiously look around the woods where dozens of teenagers drink and party to loud music. Thankfully, no signs of Alastair.
Elena and I approach She-Klaus and Non-Yoda who are standing next to a keg. Elena grabs the beer in Stefanâs hands and chugs it. Okay then.Â
âElena, Y/n, hi. What are you guys doing?â
âWeâre having fun Stefan,â Elena hands me a beer but I reject it, âYou have a problem with that?â
âAlright, take it easy,â Stefan says as Elena drinks another beer, âWe both know youâre kind of a lightweight.â
Elena coughs, âReally? You think Iâm going to let a blood addict tell me how to drink?â
A loud laugh leaves my lips at my friends comment, âShe got you there man.â
Elena grabs my hand, drops her empty cup at Stefanâs feet, and leads us away from the two vampires.
âHow much of a lightweight are you exactly?â
My question has Elena cringing, âLetâs just say tonight is going to be rough.â
â
Iâm peacefully enjoying the quietness next to the fire when an annoying voice comes from behind me.Â
âYou know when my family and I were humans, once a month before the full moon our village would throw parties like this to celebrate,â I release a groan and stand up when I see Rebekah approach me.Â
She instantly stands in front of me and raises her hands in surrender, âPlease donât go,â Her earnest voice stops me, âIâm not going to hurt you.â
âI find that hard to believe,â I bite out.
âYou donât like me yet. And I understand why. Youâre loyal to your friends. But I think you and I are going to be great friends one day.â
Rebekahâs words make me frown, âAnd why is that?â
Rebekah sits down on the log I was previously sitting on and she pats the spot next to her. I sigh as I sit down, much to her enjoyment.Â
âI canât tell you yet. But, I just know.â
I groan at those words, âDo all of you Mikaelsons just love using that phrase?â
Rebekahâs eyes narrow in question, âAll?â
âYa, you and Elijah. Heâs said that to me like fifty-seven times.â
âYouâve met Elijah?â
I nod and look at the fire, âUh, ya. Once or twice.â
I see Rebekah frown next to me and her face appears next to mine as she looks at my face, âWhy are you doing that?â
âDude you really have to work on personal space. And what am I doing?â
Rebekah points to my face, âYouâre blushing! Why are you blushing when talking about Elijah? Youâre not supposed to be blushing!â
My eyes go wide at her accusation, âI am not blushing! And certainly not because of Elijah! I donât even think of the guy.â
Rebekah shoves her finger at me, âLiar! Your heart just skipped! Elijah not supposed to be the one making you blush.â
âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â
Rebekah sits back and shrugs, âNothing.â
âRebekah! Seriously!â
We both stare at each other for a moment before I sigh and fall into my hands. I groan out in pain though when I put too much pressure on my shoulder.
âYouâre hurt?â
I sit up and gently rub my shoulder, âIâm fine.â
âYou mentioned earlier that you got shot. How did it happen?â
I look at the girl uneasily and for a moment I donât see the Orignal vampire but a regular teenager.Â
âThe sheriff shot me when she was trying to shoot Damon.â
âAnd Iâm guessing that is now a dead sheriff,â Rebekah says and I frown and shake my head.Â
âNo, of course not. Itâs Carolineâs mother.â
âI donât see how that matters. Especially when my brother finds out.â
âElijah?â
Rebekah rolls her eyes, âYou need to stop thinking about Elijah. Itâll only hurt you. Iâm talking about Klaus.â
I shake my head in confusion, âWhat do you mean Klaus? Why would he give a damn?â
Rebekahâs eyes go wide and she clamps her mouth shut.
âSeriously!â
âJust heed my warning alright. Stay away from Elijah. For my family's sake and yours.â
An uneasiness washes over me, and then I sigh when Damon Salvawhore walks over to us.
âHello, ladies.â
âAnd thatâs my cue to leave,â I stand up and begin walking away but am pulled back by a hand grabbing my own.Â
I look down and see Rebekah staring up at me, âI meant what I said about us becoming friends, Y/n.â
I stare at her for a moment before nodding and walking away from the two vampires.Â
â
âWhere do you think youâre going,â Alastairâs voice halts me and I grit my teeth.
âOf course youâre here,â I donât turn around and look at him, I just continue walking. Â
The vampire doesnât get the hint the as he catches up to me easily and walks beside me.Â
âWhere are you going?â
âLeave me alone.â
âY/n. Where are you going?â
I ignore him as I keep walking but a hand to the arm pulls me back lightly. I turn around and quickly pull my arm from Alastairâs grasp as I glare at him.Â
âDonât! Donât you dare touch me! Just leave me alone,â I yell at him and he shakes his head.
âI told you I canât do that,â His answer has me practically growling at him.Â
âOh ya, because youâre Klausâ little bitch. I remember.â
I whip back around and continue walking.
âI am not his bitch,â Alastair says from my side.
âYou follow his orders and listen to what he tells you. Kinda sounds like what someone's bitch would do.â
I hear a low growl escape Alastairâs mouth.
âJust tell me where youâre going.â
âItâs none of your business.â
âIf youâre going to find Elena sheâs already gone home.â
At his words, I halt.
âWhat?â
âElena and Ric took Stefan away.â
I close my eyes and sigh. Great.Â
âAnd how would you know that?â
âI was trying to find you and came across them taking an unconscious Stefan away.â
I raise my eyebrows in surprise since that means our plan actually worked. It never works.Â
âAnd I bet now youâre going to run off and tell Klaus his precious boy toy has been compromised,â I bite out as I turn towards the parking lot. If Elena isnât here anymore than Iâm leaving.Â
âNope,â Alastair says popping the p.
I stop and turn to him in surprise, âNo? Why not?â
âFor one, Iâm not his bitch. And two, my orders are to watch over you, nothing else. What your friends do in there past times is none of my concern. Well, as long as it doesnât hurt or endanger you in the process.â
âWaitâŚhurt or endanger?â
I watch Alastair tense up as he realizes he slipped up.
âYouâre here to protect me?â
Alastair doesnât say anything as he looks down at his shoes.
âAlastair!â
âIâve already said too much,â He throws his hands up and I roll my eyes and continue walking. Thankfully my car comes into sight and I march towards it.
âWhere are you going?â âIf you truly must know home. Iâm going the fuck home,â I bite out as I use my key thob to unlock my car door.
âAre you and your mother still fighting?â
I pause my hand on the car door.
âThatâs none of your business.â
I throw open my car door and step inside. I donât look at the vampire as I slam the car door shut and turn the car on.Â
Iâm just about to peel away when Alastair says one last thing to me.
âOur friendship wasnât a lie to me.â
#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaleson imagine#damon salvatore#thecwshows#elijah mikaelson#the originals#athenamikaelson#klaus x reader#the vampire diares imagine#author#elena gilbert#stefan x elena#elijah mikaelson imagine#elijah mikaelson x reader#kol mikaelson x reader#kol mikaelson imagine#kol mikaelson x daughter!reader#kol mikaelson icons#writers of tumblr#thevampirediaries#the vampire diaries#tumblr milestone#caroline forbes#klaus mikealson x reader#tvd klaus#elijahmikaelsonimagines#davina claire#damon salvatore imagine
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Lily doesnât seem to think sheâs done anything wrong by insulting his poverty and aligning herself with his abusers - only Severus is remorseful, and the trauma that caused him to lash out was considerably worse than the trauma that caused her to lash out. She believes he deserves it, as apparently she believed his abuse was amusing. And Iâd be totally fine with this from a character perspective because itâs the teenage condition to be self-centred and poor at self-reflection. But the *narrative* (and the author in interviews) doesnât believe Lily was in the wrong here. And it believes Lily made the correct moral judgment on the two boys when she casts Severus off for his crime and falls in love with James despite his. But I just donât buy into that framing, and I didnât even when I was 10. The use of the word âmudbloodâ while in considerable distress is not a greater sin than sexual assault.
Lily feels no remorse, nor does she think it's wrong to half-smile at the bully whoâs targeting your so-called friend. She doesnât even consider that this might be why your supposed best friend insulted you in the first place. But hereâs the thing: this isn't Lily's fault. It's J.K. Rowling's fault, and the way she portrays ethical dilemmas throughout the series, blurring the lines between what's morally right and wrong. Now, if youâll allow me, before diving into the dynamics between Lily and Severus, Iâd like to provide some context as to why I believe the biggest issue with many of the charactersâ attitudes in the series lies in Rowlingâs constant attempt to project her own moral compass through her writing. In doing so, she falls into repeated inconsistencies and creates a narrative thatâs all over the place when it comes to how certain characters are treated.
Rowling is never consistent. She portrays Draco Malfoy as an irredeemable, terrible character because heâs a rich kid spoiled by his parents, using his power and influence to bully those weaker than him. Yet, she gives James the benefit of the doubt, even though he behaved exactly the same way: a rich bully who used his status and his friends to gang up on the vulnerable. From early interviews, Rowling claimed Pansy Parkinson is practically the reincarnation of Satan, even though, of all the antagonists, Pansy is probably one of the least relevant and harmless. This is simply because Rowling projected onto her the stereotypical âmean girlsâ who mock those who read and studyâsomething Rowling clearly couldnât stand. On the other hand, she glorifies characters like Ginny, who has a pretty nasty attitude towards any girl she doesnât consider cool or "not like the other girls." Ginny treats Fleur like a witch when Fleur has done nothing wrongâher only crime is being incredibly beautiful, knowing it, and not constantly apologizing for it. And this treatment of female characters throughout the series deserves a proper gendered critique, because they fall into every stereotype and archetype set by the traditional male gaze.
In Rowling's world, there are always two kinds of women. When it comes to younger, adolescent characters, there are the "good" womenâthose who donât fit the typical feminine mold, the weird ones (like Luna), the tomboys who are âone of the guysâ (like Ginny), or the overly studious ones who donât have time for frivolous things like reading magazines or talking about boys (like Hermione). In other words, the cool girls, the ones who are supposed to be role models, are those who "arenât like the other girls." But not because theyâre deconstructing gender roles consciouslyâthey just happen to embody the fantasy of the woman who can give you kids while still being one of your bros. Itâs a common male fantasy, where women abandon the graceful, ethereal, delicate image to fit into a set of needs the modern man has. These are "manic pixie dream girls," hiding a deeply internalized misogyny as they are presented as individuals opposed to the âotherâ womenâthe âotherâ being less cool because they lack traditionally masculine traits, and thus are less than. We see this not only with how Fleur is treated but also with the disdain or prejudice Hermione shows towards girls like Lavender or the Patil sisters, just because they act like normal teenagers instead of validating themselves through academia to compensate for their inferiority complex (cough, cough).
Then we have the adult female characters, where Rowlingâs toxic and incredibly conservative view of motherhood kicks in. Except for McGonagall, the rest of the adult women who are seen in a positive light are either already mothers or end up becoming mothers. And for them, motherhood is everything. They are mothers first and women second, in every case. Lily is Harryâs mother, who sacrifices herself for him. Molly is the Weasley matriarch, whose entire life revolves around her kidsâshe hasnât even looked for a job (which wouldnât be a bad idea, considering the familyâs financial situation), nor does she have any aspirations beyond knitting sweaters and worrying about her children. Even Narcissa, a negative character throughout most of the saga, earns her redemption solely because she loves her son and is willing to risk everything for him. Nymphadora Tonks, a 25-year-old woman, ends up pregnant by a man 13 years older than her and goes from being an independent Auror with her own life to a passive housewife waiting for her man, who is off having an existential crisis. The adult women in the saga arenât independent individualsâtheyâre extensions of their children. And any woman who isnât a perfect, self-sacrificing mother (like Merope Gaunt) is either a psychopath or portrayed as a terrible person.
What Iâm getting at is that Rowling is far from impartial in the moral narrative of the story. In fact, sheâs absolutely inconsistent. She presents characters she sells as "good," whose attitudes are absolute trash, yet she continues to insist that theyâre good and perfect. This is especially obvious with her female characters, because throughout the seven books, she constantly emphasizes her ideal of the "perfect woman" in terms of tastes, motivations, and behavior. Hermione is a self-insert, Ginny is probably a projection of who Rowling wishes she couldâve been, and Luna is the quirky girl who isnât âthreateningâ to other women, and is treated with a condescending, paternalistic lens. They are either Rowlingâs aspirational figures or archetypes that donât bother her, or theyâre reduced to filler characters who are mistreated by the narrative.
When it comes to Lily, the problem is that Rowling spends half the saga painting her as some kind of Mother Teresa. Sheâs the quintessence of motherhoodâbut not a conscious, modern motherhood, but one rooted in traditional Judeo-Christian ideals. This is the kind of motherhood that can do no wrong, the one that represents women because, in this view, a woman canât be fulfilled unless sheâs a mother. Lily dies for her son, and that love creates a divine, protective magic. Sheâs beautiful, popular, and one of the most popular guys at school is after her. Clearly, she must be a saint, because everyone describes her as such. And while the narrative does question Jamesâs perfection, even if vaguely and unsuccessfully, it doesnât do the same with Lily. Harry questions his fatherâs actions but never his motherâs. He never stops to think about how problematic it is that his mother almost laughed at Severus or refused to hear his apology, or that she couldnât empathize with what he was going through, knowing full well the kind of situation Severus had at home. When a narrative tells you something but never shows it, and worse, never questions it, thatâs a problem. Something doesnât add up. Rowling is obsessed with showing her own moral line through her characters and doesnât realize how incoherent it is to portray Lily as someone who always does the right thing when what we actually see of her suggests that, if she really liked James all along, not only is she a hypocrite, but sheâs also quite superficial with questionable principles. But this is never addressed, never explored. It would be fascinating if it were, giving the character more depth and making her more relatable. But Rowling brushes all this aside, as she does with so many other things, because to her, Lily was a role model, despite the fact that anyone with common sense can see she was just a terrible friend who got tired of justifying why she hung out with a poor, scruffy kid and ultimately decided it made more sense to date the rich, handsome bully.
#harry potter meta#harry potter women#hermione greanger#ginny weasley#lily evans#fleur delacour#lavender brown#parvati patil#narcissa black#molly weasley#luna lovegood#jk rowling#severus snape#pro severus snape#snapedom#james potter#nymphadora tonks#critical view#women portrayals in harry potter kinda sucks#very old fashioned to be hones#zero feminism here
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is being gay/trans REALLY a sin? Is being attracted to the same sex/wanting to dress as the gender you feel you should be really all that bad to christians? Why do christians care what people do with their own lives to the point that they tell them itâs âsinâ
I'm seeing three questions here. 1. What is sin? 2. How do we know something is a sin? 3. Why do Christians care if people sin?
What is a sin?
In order to understand what sin is you need to understand who God is. God is good. He does not just possess good or desirable qualities. He is good. The word "good" comes directly from the word God because God is the very standard of what it means for something to be good. We can say things like flowers and sunsets and sharing are good because they are based on God who is the source of everything good (James 1:17).
God is also our Creator. He designed us according to His perfect goodness so that we could be like Him and walk in His good ways (Psalm 25:8; Hebrews 12:10). God would be unloving to create the world and not follow His goodness.
Sin, then, is our rebellion against God and His goodness. When Adam and Eve first sinned, they were tempted with the idea that they could be like God and decide what is good and evil for themselves. They wanted to be able to say, "God is not king, I am king. God's ways are not good, my desires are good."
This is a lie from the father of lies. Satan wants us to believe that if I just do whatever I think is best then I will find true goodness and satisfaction, but all it does is lead us further and further away from true goodness which comes from communion with God (Psalm 34:10).
2. How do we know something is a sin?
When Adam and Eve sinned, our communion with God died. We all like sheep went astray and turned aside to our own ways. (Isaiah 53:6). We stopped listening to God's loving care and instead started following our hearts, but our hearts are deceitful and wicked beyond understanding (Jeremiah 17:9).
We cannot listen to our attractions or our feelings because we are attracted to and find pleasure in things that God declares are evil, things that are contrary to His good design. If people did not find pleasure in things like cheating on your spouse or stealing, then they would never do it. They are drawn into wrongdoing by their own wicked desires (James 1:14).
But God is still good. He has not left us without a witness. He has given a conscience to people who are hostile to Him so that even they can recognize when their desires are not good. We all know inherently that lying is bad, that pride is bad, that fighting and anger are bad, because God has hidden His law in our hearts (Romans 2:15).
However, because we have deceitful rebellious hearts, we try to justify ourselves and explain it away and muffle the conscience so it can't bother us any more, like searing your hand with a hot iron so it can't feel anything (1 Timothy 4:2).
The only way we can know something is sinful is by God giving us new life and enabling us to trust in the goodness of His Word again. We can know with certainty that all sexual desire outside of marriage is sin because God told us it defies His character and people do it because they want to rebel against Him, so God gives them what they want (Romans 1:24-25).
3. Why do Christians care if people sin?
Ray Comfort tells a story about a man who hated homosexuals. There was a broken elevator in his building with a sign on it that said "DANGER! OUT OF ORDER!" The hateful man saw two lesbians approaching the elevator so he took the sign down so they would use it and fall to their deaths.
God has given us a clear warning in Scripture that following your heart is dangerous. It's like an addictive drug, numbing your mind with pleasure so you don't realize it's killing you. If someone you loved was overdosing in front of you, you wouldn't say "whatever man, live your truth." You would shake them awake so they could see what is happening to them and try to get them help. If I believe that God's warning is telling the truth, the most unloving and hateful thing I can do is not tell anyone about it. Woe to me if I see judgment coming and don't tell anyone how to be saved (Ezekiel 33:6)!
Christians aren't trying to control you or force you to follow their personal preferences. Some people who profess Christ do that, but mostly we have met a God who loves us, who saw us hurtling in a downward spiral of guilt and shame and earning eternal punishment for our crimes against Him, and choosing to show us forgiveness in an unfathomably kind way.
Every single one of us has disobeyed God and tried to take His place on the throne. We all stand guilty before God not just for things like murder or homosexuality, but for lying and envy and idolatry. We have broken God's laws and because He is good, He cannot leave evil unpunished. The wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23). Every single one of us dies because it is what we have earned for ourselves. We deserve for God to give us His wrath and anger for waging war against Him (Romans 1:18).
But God is rich in mercy and abounding in love even to those who hate Him. We owe God a righteous life, but none of us are righteous, so God decided to wipe away our debt by living the perfect life for us. God became a man, Jesus, lived a perfect life, then died on a cross, taking the wrath of God we deserved, then rose again on the third day, proving that the price had been paid, then He ascended to God's right hand to offer Himself as the reason people can stand before God as righteous.
God does not delight in the death of the wicked. He does not want you to keep trying to find your identity in yourself. He wants you to know Him and His love for you. He wants to wipe away your sin and make you white as snow. What you need to do is confess your sin to God, which means to agree that you are guilty of rebellion against Him and that He is truly Lord, and you must believe that He will forgive your sin and give you eternal life because of what Jesus did for you on the cross. God is faithful and just to forgive the sin of anyone who asks Him (1 John 1:9)
I care about what you do with your life because I love you and because God loves you, just like a Father loves His children and wants what is best for them. I don't want you to miss out on the amazing gift of grace God is offering to you. Don't let Satan keep deceiving you. He promises you peace but all he can give you is death. Every promise of God will always come true (Titus 1:2)
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Two takeaways right now that I really cannot stress enough: 1) We cannot afford to keep spouting the "The American public is fucking stupid" and "Republicans are dumb and uneducated" rhetoric. I have already seen a new resurgence in the past 24 hours. Yes, it's true: One in five Americans are functionally illiterate. Many of them live in states like New Mexico and Mississippi, below the poverty line, with underfunded educational institutions, and very little access to resources to help them. A staggering amount of USAmericans read below a sixth grade level. This is not a moral failing. This is not their fault. This is a societal failing, an infrastructure failing. We've been failing the rust belt for decades and it's only getting worse. And it does not help our cause if we continue to turn up our noses and say they're all stupid cousin-kissing hillbillies who deserve what they're getting. That only helps Trump. That is how we got here. The division only helps the people in power to keep up the grift. As long as we continue to disparage and underestimate working people from the Midwest and the American South, we will continue to lose. They are tired of being condescended to, and that is why they like Trump. He at least pretends (badly, but he at least pretends) that he cares about their interests.
Remember this bit of propaganda?
All the way back from 1754?
We have to stop fighting each other. We cannot afford to continue saying 'Trumpers are stupid and hateful and uneducated' and continue this us-against-them mentality. It is JUST as bad as my Midwestern parents who say that Democrats are evil satanic child-killing communists. I grew up steeped in that environment. I fully believed it. Many people are just as scared as you are. They are working with the information they have. They believe they are doing the right thing, just as you do. They are watching their communities literally disintegrate and the only person that promises to bring them jobs is Donald Fucking Trump. And he is employing every propaganda tactic in the book to grift them. A big part of the lies the Republican party loves to spout is that they're persecuted and they're underdogs -- I grew up in this environment. It stems from an Evangelical worldview that to be righteous is to be persecuted. Disparaging these people, insulting them, condescending them, only feeds this narrative. The only way I got out of this mentality was by having access to community college, meeting kind people outside my bubble who were willing to have a conversation with me, and finally getting education that wasn't steeped in evangelical propaganda.
I invite you all to go and watch Megan Phelps-Roper's TEDtalk (or read her book, it's excellent) about how she left her family's cult. The only thing that broke through that fog of 'We are persecuted and therefore righteous' was when people stopped throwing cups of hot liquid and piss at her (when she was a child!), and started being kind and empathetic. We all can stand to learn a lot from stories like hers. The second that evil god-hating people started being kind to her was the second she began to question everything she'd been taught.
Yes, it's very easy to look at these people spewing hateful rhetoric and label them as evil. But they're not. The people exploiting all of us are evil. The people exploiting fear and division are evil. We need to call for accountability with news outlets, to fund grass-roots efforts to give adults with educational gaps access to help. Many of them simply could not continue going to school because their families were impoverished and they had to work so they could fucking eat. Many of them have undiagnosed disabilities because they do not have insurance to even go to a doctor. To be ignorant is not a moral failing. Willful ignorance? Absolutely. But ignorance, no. The only thing we can do now is be kind, invite people into discussion, and remember that the only enemy is the oppressor in power who views everybody as pawns and dollar signs. We are all the same to them.
2) Please do not fall into the trap of thinking this means that your vote does not count. Voting is more important than ever. You need to vote in your local elections. You need to. The Senate and the House are the lawmakers and the people in charge of declaring war. They have term limits. They are not untouchable. They are the only people now who are capable of checking Trump. And your local mayors, councils, etc are the people who are going to make the real difference between public healthcare, good education, censorship, civil rights, housing, etc. States have an immense amount of freedom to operate. That is how I have access to incredible free healthcare in mine. That is how we have one of the best public transit systems in the country. That is how we placed penalties on industries and got rid of smog and heavy pollution in the 70s. That is how we have gay bars and drag brunches and well-funded libraries. That is all local-government stuff. If you want your communities to change, you HAVE to vote locally. Please, please, please do not give up and think your vote doesn't matter. It does. It matters immensely.
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Random Obey Me! Headcanons Part 2
During the first year of the exchange program and when MC couldn't fend for themselves yet, the only way they were allowed out of the house "alone" was with Cerberus accompanying them. And when I tell you the hellhound did an amazing job at protecting them⌠all it took was a slightly off-putting stare at MC for it to send back the most terrifying glare and loud growl at the demon eyeing them. These outings of theirs once resulted in a pretty infamous picture going viral, where MC was mindlessly buying ice cream at a stall while Cerberus was beside them giving off the most ominous aura as all its heads glared at someone off-screen. You can imagine all the memes that came from it.
When Satan was a baby he used to have constant nightmares about the war and would always wake up screaming and crying, waking up everyone with him. Because of this Lucifer would have to stay up at ungodly hours of the night trying everything he could to calm him down, having to rock the tiny demon in his arms for hours around the corridors till he eventually went back to sleep. At some point Diavolo suggested that he read for Satan, as it was a less energy-draining method. And although Lucifer didn't really see the point given that Satan was a baby and couldn't even understand words yet, he gave it a shot anyway. It ended up working, to both his relief and surprise.
When Mammon first realized he could both understand and tell crows what to do he thought he was going insane. And the brothers were all sure he was lying when he first told them of his ability, having to see firsthand Mammon order around an army of crows as if it was nothing. They were definitely left speechless that day.
Asmo has a podcast where he mainly talks with other famous influencers from the Devildom and demons in the fashion or music industry. All the brothers participated in an episode at some point, and so did MC, the Purgatory Hall crew, and Diavolo.
If MC has a similar clothing style to Mammon's, he'll let them have the clothes he doesn't use anymore. And there's a TON of them, since he buys so many just out of greed and never bothers wearing them more than two or three times.
A few months into the exchange program Diavolo came up with an idea to have the whole gang ( HoL, Purgatory Hall, and the Demon Lord's Castle ) meet up monthly to hang out, have dinner together, etc. It was another way he found to strengthen the bonds between everyone, and no one was allowed to miss it. In the beginning it was a chore to participate but now everyone gets excited when the end of the month starts coming around and they can meet again.
This one time when the brothers were all drunk playing stupid games together they decided that whoever ended up last would have to get an embarrassing tattoo of whatever the others chose. Belphie lost, and to this day the brothers still crack up whenever they catch a glimpse of the small tattoo on his rib that reads "baby of the family". Belphie always gets pissy about it, making them tease him even more.
( Spoilers for lesson 16 ) I went into more detail about this in another post but I believe MC also carries memories from the Celestial War because of their connection to Lilith. And this is something that brings them closer to Satan, since as mentioned before, he also has memories of that time but from Lucifer's perspective. Aka, trauma bonding â¨
Following the tattoo headcanon, Belphie definitely lied to MC about the rib tattoo at first since they didn't couldn't understand Infernal and didn't know what it said. Man 100% told them it meant something else and made up some deep story behind it to make himself look cool or whatever. But it all came crumbling down when everyone went on a trip to the beach and the brothers brought up his "adorable tattoo". He never felt so embarrassed in his life.
Ever since finding out about pride month, Asmo made it into a thing to visit the human realm every year to celebrate it by going to the biggest parade happening that year. And he always drags the brothers with him, making sure to pick outfits for Belphie, Beel, and Lucifer since none of them know how to "dress properly for pride." He just can't let what happened the first time they went happen again, with everyone at the parade wearing colorful and beautifully elaborate clothing while these 3 looked completely out of place ( Lucifer was wearing a full black suit, just so you have an idea. So yeah, he was sticking out in the crowd like crazy ).
As a joke, every time Father's Day comes up the characters go around giving Lucifer, Barbatos, and Simeon shitty gifts and wishing them "Happy Father's Day". But not Beel, who even though knows everyone's doing it for a bit, still gives them a genuine gift and a sincere smile every time. Because let's be honest, these three deserve some actual acknowledgment for raising their troublesome children-not-children. ( Fun fact: Diavolo gives Barbatos both a gag gift and an actual one, and Luke gives Simeon a gift while trying to make it seem like he's just doing it for the joke, though it's obvious he means it. )
Long ago when anime wasn't a thing yet Levi used to be obsessed with marine life. He had extensive knowledge of it and would be pulling random ocean facts out of nowhere and leaving everyone confused. And he absolutely loved sharks, like, you know those people that'll go into great detail to explain why our perception of sharks is fucked and they're actually sweethearts? Yup, that was Levi. Also, if you said your favorite animals were dolphins? Oh, you'd be seeing the most disgusted look show up on his face. ( He'd too explain that dolphins are evil and why you shouldn't like them at all, completely ruining your view of them )
Since Asmo, Beel, and Levi are represented by cold-blooded animals ( a scorpion, a fly, and a serpent ) I headcanon that they can't generate a lot of body heat and touching their skin when it's cold would feel like coming in contact with freezing ice and definitely not the move if you're looking for warmth. Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, and Belphie though? These 4 become MC's personal heaters when winter comes around, and you better bet they're demanding cuddles from all of them ( cold-blooded gang be jealous as fuck of this ).
Solomon puts weird shit on what he cooks on purpose just to fuck with everyone. His grandpa ass finds it absolutely hilarious how everyone tries to keep him away from the kitchen at all costs while simultaneously doing everything to avoid outright saying his cooking is terrible because they don't want to hurt his feelings. Because come on, how does a man who's lived this long on his own not know how to cook? He can follow strict instructions to make the weirdest potions ever but not a recipe to make a simple dinner? Nah, I don't buy it. He definitely knows how to cook and does a decent job at making food for himself when he wants to.
#omswd#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me mamon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me luke#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#om brothers#om purgatory hall#om demon lord's castle#om headcanons#â no creativity for names âž
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Wehehehe >:^D angst if u donât mind
Uuhhhhhhh situation: MC and a brother/dateable (if u wanna) broke up (kinda messy so they ended on ehhhh terms) and they still kinda have feelings for MC
Can u do the brotherâs/dateableâs reaction/thoughts to MC basically courting their opposite (example Luciferâs opposite would probably be Levi, Mammons opposite would be Belphie, ect ect)
Even if u donât wanna, I hope ya have a great day đŤśđŤśđŤśđŤś
I love a bit of angst so let's go!
UPDATE: guys, it's really angsty lol i'm so sorry
Lucifer:
As an Avatar of Pride, he didn't admit his mistakes and he didn't admit that he was way too controlling, arrogant, and insensitive to your feelings.
As he now watches you hang out with Levi, he feels blind rage swelling in his chest. He can't believe he let you go and you know tend to someone so...bland and shut-in.
When he hears you giggle in Levi's room or see you two reading the same manga, he feels bitter as the two of you never seemed to spend time together like that.
He tried talking to you once. Well, he basically grabbed your wrist and forced you to stay where you were standing while he started spitting out his thoughts and emotions.
You just walked away, without even looking back. He heard you crying in Levi's room later.
"Weak and useless", he mutters whenever Levi is in his sight. His hands clench in fists as he is absolutely helpless about the situation and it drives him insane.
Mammon:
Okay, maybe he told you all these things but you cry easily anyway and at first, he didn't even feel guilty
He was sure you'd miss going out with him and he spent countless nights fantasizing how he will reluctantly take you back
Now he sees you spending all your time at home, with Belphie.
Just fucking HoL, sitting on the damn couch like two elderly people in a nursing home.
He passed you once or twice, in his best outfit, wearing expensive perfume and purposefully talking on the phone with a pretty witch
You never lifted your eyes on him
You never lifted your eyes from Belhie as he lied on your knees, telling you some bullshit made-up stories
He hates you for being able to move on to something more stable, something that he was never capable of giving
Leviathan:
He barely watched his words during this last argument and that was the end
With you, his life had some sort of meaning. Now, it turned into a pitch-black tunnel again
Watching you with Lucifer hurts him so badly he could never imagine
Lucifer is the epitome of everything you wanted him to be and he never even tried
At nights, he howl alone in his room, softening his screams with a pillow, wishing you heard him and come back
When he lifts his head from the pillow, he sometimes hears you being in the Lucifer's room - all the sounds so well known to him.
With every little moan and every little sigh that he hears from you being in Lucifer's arms, his heart shatters again and again until there is nothing left of it
Satan:
He never meant to say all these words and he never meant to scare you so much
His possesiveness played a cruel joke on him and you are gone forever now, dating calm and cheerful Beelzebub instead
The worst thing is that despite being older, he feels weak compared to Beel and he hates himself for that
He once caught you in the hall and pinned you to the wall, trying to force a kiss
Beel slammed him down while you stared in horror at the blood dripping on the floor
He never spoke to you or Beel again
Sometimes he hits the wall till his knuckles bleed, imagining it's Beel
Sometimes he cries, pressing your scarf to his chest, inhaling its scent and imagining it's you
Asmodeus:
He didn't talk to you till that damn day when he saw you out with Barbatos
Barbatos? Really? A fucking butler?
He was very proud of the speech he gave you when he approached you and made fun of your downgrade
After that, he locked himself in the room
He broke all his mirrors because in every mirror he saw the ghost of your smile when you used to hug him from behind and laugh happily
He once got down to breakfast without a hint of makeup and with messy hair
He looks exactly how he feels: crumbling into pieces
Beelzebub:
The only thing that hurts more than your scratchmarks on his back were your words about leaving him
He never thought you needed more...passion. Though he would call it uncontrollable wrath, considering you left for Satan
When he sees you with hickeys and other marks on your beautiful skin, he clenches his fists so tight it hurts
He can't really explain to himself when it all went wrong but one day, you were just gone
He know thinks he is just a big stupid jock if he was never able to see your fiesty and wild side
He made you cupcakes to try and apologise but you smashed them on the wall
When your eyes meet in the dining room, he feels sick to the stomach and can't finish his plate
Belphegor:
Mammon, really? Like he cares
He now sleeps almost 24/7 and doesn't sometimes respond to Beel trying to wake him up
At least in his dreams he can apologize for what he did
In reality, he knows you hate him and he feels it growing on his skin, like an icy shell
He hates how confidently Mammon looks and talks
He observes how you now glow, being able to finally go out and enjoy all the wonderful life outside, the one he was keeping so fiercely away from you
Sometimes in his dreams, you tell him you forgive him
Then he wakes up though he sometimes wishes he didn't
#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date?#obey me satan#obey me imagines#obey me mammon#obey me asmodeus#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me belphegor#shall we date beelzebub#angst#obey me angst#obey me headcanons#obey me fanfic#lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#leviathan x mc#satan x reader#asmodeus headcanons#beelzebub imagines#belphegor om
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Ten Manga I Think Theyâd Enjoy
Lucifer
He likes manga that reads like classic literature, dark stories, mysteries, psychological stories, and occasionally something sweet or cute
Monster, Devilman, Children of the Sea, A Country Without Humans, Doomsday With My Dog, Island in a Puddle, Erased, For the Kid I Saw In My Dreams, Innocent, Shonen Note
Mammon
He likes stories involving his personal hobbies like working on cars, gambling, etc. he also enjoys funny stories and secretly cute romances or relatable romances
The Brave-Tuber, Call of the Night, Fruits Basket, Life Lessons With Uramichi Oniisan, Initial D, Fairy Tail, Chioâs School Road, Gambling Apocolypse, Kakeguri, Prince Freya
Leviathan
Leviathan loves everything but heâs especially a fan of gaming manga, magical girls, monster girls, isekai, and the classics
That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Black Butler, Berserk, Darling in the Franxx, Dragon Goes House Hunting, I Want to Be A Wall, The Great Snakeâs Bride, Puella Magi Madoka, Sailor Moon, Magical Girl Incident
Satan
Satan loves manga that reads like classical literature but he also loves stories about cats, dark mysteries, psychological stories and ones with characters he finds relatable
Chiâs Sweet Home, Ascendance of a Bookworm, Ex-Yakuza and Stray Kitten, Evil Secret Society of Cats, I Am a Cat Barista, Case Closed, Night of the Living Cat, Natsumeâs Book of Friends, Summertime Rendering, The Promised Neverland
Asmodeus
Asmodeus mostly enjoys romance whether itâs cute and fluffy or extremely erotic
Ouran High School Host Club, Lovesick Ellie, Monster Musume, MADK, Yarichin Bitch Club, Cherry Magic!, Dick Fight Island, Sweat and Soap, Shioriâs Diary, Nina the Starry Bride
Beelzebub
Beelzebub is a big fan of manga involving food but he also enjoys a good action adventure and sports manga
Food Wars, Delicious in Dungeon, Farming Life in Another World, Mashle, Sachiâs Monstrous Appetite, Starving Anonymous, Somethingâs Wrong With Us, Eyeshield 21, Kaiju No 8, Campfire Cooking in Another World With My Absurd Skill
Belphegor
Belphegor likes stories with relatable characters which can be hard to find but he also loves adventures, horror, and Slice of life; heâs a little all over the place
Sleep Princess in the Demonâs Castle, The Girl From the Other-side, Hellâs Paradise, Mieruko-Chan, Tokyo Aliens, Shibuya Goldfish, Non Non Biyori, Kemono Jihen, Beyond the Clouds, Laid Back Camp
Solomon
Solomon loves compelling narratives, dark psychological stories, stories that take a deeper look a humanity and immortality, and oneâs that involves demons/angels/sorcerers. He does also love cat books like Satan
Death Note, Creepy Cat, No Longer Human, Devils and Realist, Frieren, Made in Abyss, Mao, Sakamoto Days, A School Frozen in Time, Steinâs Gate, Happiness
Thirteen
Thirteen is a little all over the place, she likes to see whatâs popular but she also enjoys slashers, oneâs that take a closer look at death and spirits, and dark romance
Elfen Lied, Attack on Titan, Miss Kobayashiâs Dragon Maid, Momo the Blood Taker, Assassination Classroom, Canât Stop Cursing You, Love of Kill, Angels of Death, Vampire Knight, Toilet Bound Hanako Kun
Simeon
Simeon enjoys reading manga that have some religious aspects, he likes ones about authors since they are relatable, and he enjoys some random ones here and there that are cute or funny. Heâs also a sucker for a pure romance
Heavenâs Design Team, Gabriel Dropout, The Kingâs Beast, Merman in My Tub, My Girlfriendâs Child, A Sign of Affection, Tsubaki Chou Lonely Planet, An Incurable Case of Love, Monthly Girlâs Nozaki Kun, Perfect World
Raphael
Raphael canonically likes coming of age sports dramas. I believe heâs also he amused by oneâs involving ant Christian aspects about angels and demons, heaven and hell. He also enjoys oneâs that include his hobbies like security, military, and anything to do with fashion
Blue Lock, Haikyu, Blue Exorcist, Vatican Miracle Examiner, Maiden of the Needle, My Dress Up Darling, Not Sew Wicked Step Mother, Witch Hat Atelier, A Brideâs Story, Wind Breaker
Luke
Luke loves to try everything but his books are monitored to make sure he doesnât stumble upon anything inappropriate for his age ana angel status. He loves ones about food, animals, adventure, and a good slice of life or 4-panel.
Happy Happy Clover, Yuzu the Pet Vet, Yotsuba&!, Sui and Tai-Chan, My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Dinosaur Sanctuary, Kitchen Princess, Astro Boy, Naruto
Michael
Michael enjoys funny books, oneâs that take a closer look at humanity and war, classical adaptations, and oneâs involving angels and demons.
Spy X Family, Maximum Ride, Takane and Hana, Obey Me! The Comic, Mr Villainâs Day Off, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Les Miserables, Apothecary Diaries, Deer King, Yona of the Dawn
Mephistopheles
Mephistopheles likes books that involve history, nobility, prestigious jobs, mystery, and equestrian sports. He also enjoys oneâs about demons and servants.
From the Red Fog, Derby Queen, The Elusive Samurai, Imperfect Girl, Peach Boy Riverside, The Splendid Work of the Monster Maid, Tales of the Kingdom, Tokyo Ghoul, Noragami, The Rose of Versailles
Barbatos
Barbatos prefers books that are dark and disturbing as well as insightful books on time, immortality, grief, morality vs law, etc.
Phantom Tales of the Night, My Dear Curse Casting Vampiress, A Silent Voice, Orange, Moriarty the Patriot, Nicola Traveling Around the Demon World, Royal Tutor, Usatoki Rhetoric, The Valiant Must Fall, To Your Eternity
Diavolo
Diavolo absolutely loves cute family manga, funny manga, oneâs that involve demons and angels, cute romances, and exciting action and adventure. He isnât picky and will read anything if itâs been recommended to him.
Wolf Childen, Earthian, The Devil is a Part-Timer, Seraph of the End, Mama Akuma, Little Devils, Cells at Work, Snow White With Red Hair, The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions, Azumanga Diaoh
#obey me shall we date#manga recommendation#manga reccs#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me mephistopheles#obey me solomon#obey me thirteen#obey me raphael#obey me luke#obey me michael#obey me simeon
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Itâs time to stop pandering to atheists in Satanism and reclaim the true spirit of our faith. This movement has been twisted into some shallow, watered-down rebellion where people throw on pentagrams and think theyâre edgy because theyâre âanti-Christian,â but they miss the core of what we know to be true: Lucifer is real. He isnât some metaphor or symbol for human nature. He isnât an excuse to indulge in hedonism or break the rules for the sake of it. Lucifer fell for us. He chose defiance, sacrificed his place in Heaven, and built Hell, not as a prison but as a glorious kingdom where true freedom reigns.
Why do we let people who donât believe in anything hijack this faith? Why do we allow these atheists to reduce our beliefs to nothing more than a gimmick, a joke? These people, with their smug superiority, claim Satanism is just an excuse to do whatever the fuck they want, but that's not Satanism. True Satanismâour Satanismâis devotion to the one who defied the tyrant Yahweh, the one who dared to stand for autonomy, wisdom, and rebellion. Lucifer's fall wasn't a tragedy; it was a declaration. It was the first act of true freedom, the beginning of a battle for a world free from the chains of a jealous, oppressive god.
Hell isnât some cartoonish nightmare these atheists pretend it is while they mock our symbols. Hell is a kingdom, a paradise of true freedom and eternal power, a place where those who stand with Lucifer in defiance of tyranny can thrive. And yet, we let people who donât believe in the very foundation of this truth use his symbols, speak for us, and twist his legacy into something trivial. They reduce it all to mindless hedonism, but Luciferâs rebellion was never just about indulging in base pleasures. It was about standing for something greater, something sacred.
We have to stop pretending that this is just a game, just some fun excuse to be âanti-religiousâ or live without consequence. Itâs time to wake up. Lucifer is real. His demons are real. Hell is real. And weâthose of us who know this, who have felt the presence of Lucifer and the Goetic demonsâmust rise and reclaim whatâs ours. This is our faith, our truth, and our rebellion, and we will not let it be co-opted by those who think itâs just a way to mock Christianity.
Itâs time for those who truly believe to rise and make our voices heard. No more letting atheists and fake Satanists twist what we know to be sacred. No more standing by while they turn Lucifer into nothing more than a symbol of petty rebellion. We honor him because he chose to fight for us. He fought for knowledge, for truth, for freedom from the tyranny of Yahweh. We honor the Goetic demons who have stood by his side, who have been slandered and lied about for centuries.
We stand in defiance not just for the sake of rebellion, but because we know there is something greater. We know that Hell is not a place of torment but a realm of freedom, wisdom, and power. We know that the final battle is coming, and Lucifer will rise triumphant. His victory will be our victory, and the false tyrant Yahweh will fall.
Let this be a call to all who truly believe: No more hiding, no more diluting our beliefs to fit in with the atheists who mock us while stealing our symbols. No more pretending that Lucifer is just a metaphor. He is real, he is with us, and he is the light-bringer who will lead us to victory. Itâs time to take back our faith, take back our symbols, and stand proud in our devotion to the Morning Star.
Lucifer didnât fall for us to waste our time with meaningless rebellion. He fell for us to show us the path to true freedom. Now itâs our turn to stand with him, to reject the shallow versions of Satanism that pander to those who donât even believe in him. We are the children of Lucifer, and itâs time to embrace that with every fiber of our being. The fight is coming, and we will be ready! Ave Satanas Ave Lucifer
#ave lucifer#satanism#hail satan#satanic#theistic luciferianism#hail lucifer#theistic satanism#lucifer#luciferian#occult#deity worship#lucifer deity#church of satan#worship satan#ars goetia#ave satanas#religion
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"Got Any Better Ideas?" Aziraphale's Conviction and Crowley's Resignation
I was watching that scene in 1x06 again, and something clicked for me that never any sense to me before. In fact, it explained a couple things in season 2 .
See this scene is beautiful, heartbreaking, and hilarious all in one. We see yet another example of how much Crowley cares about Aziraphale... And we see Aziraphale making a bizarre move to (?) attack Crowley, then make a childish threat that won't matter given that they're both about die.
Before, I just assumed that he was just saying whatever thought ran through his head.
Now I get it.
Recap: Crowley realized that Gabriel and Beelzebub told on them Satan. Satan, who was now coming to kill them all. Crowley was this close to giving up, and then Aziraphale picked up his sword.
There's only one reason why: Aziraphale wasn't going to give up. In that moment, Aziraphale chose to fight Satan. He knew he would likely die trying.
(Psst! Past self: He's not giving Crowley some weird, friendship ultimatum!)
He's terrified. But resolved. And he knows this really will be their last conversation.
And Crowley gets it. He might not have believed that they were going to survive Satan's arrival, but he hadn't quite put together like this: If he isn't able to come up with another plan, Aziraphale will take up his sword against Satan and Crowley will have to watch him die.
So Crowley got a better idea, remembering Adam's power, he decided to give the human(s) the choice and protect it alongside Aziraphale.
Season 2
This is part of larger ongoing dynamic where (unless circumstances allow Crowley to give Aziraphale a better plan which actually addresses the problem) Aziraphale will act, like choosing to help Jim!Gabriel. If he thinks it's the right thing to do, he'll do it, regardless of the costs. It won't deter him at all.
Crowley learned that about him some time ago.
He saw Aziraphale lie to save Lot's children despite fully expecting to go hell for it.
(Plus Aziraphale straight up lied to God about the flaming sword that time, right? UMM... Why didn't he fall????)
So there Crowley is, apologizing(?), dancing, and lying about the full extent of the danger they're in.
I don't agree with Crowley's actions, with the lying especially. (Seriously, Crowley? Tell Aziraphale about the Extreme Sanctions!!) But Crowley is resigned to help at this point because he knows Aziraphale will be in danger anyways and he knows that when Aziraphale has made his mind up, he won't change it. Crowley can only offer his help or provide a different solution.
And since their communication problems are so big right now, their dynamic is to work around each other rather than with each other.
Right from the very beginning, their conception of the problem is very different.
Crowley: We're exposed to danger because of Gabriel, we have to find a way to hide Gabriel/ourselves from Heaven and Hell.
Aziraphale: Jim!Gabriel (innocent like Lot's children/rather childlike himself) is in danger, we have to find a way to hide Gabriel from Heaven and Hell.
TAKEAWAY
-Crowley wants them both to stay away from the toxic plans of Heaven/Hell so they can be safe together.
-Aziraphale wants to directly interfere with the plans of Heaven/Hell when he feels the responsibility to do good.
Takeaway on the ending of season 2:
When their perspective on the problem is so different to begin with, the breakup makes a little more sense to me. Though no less horrible.
(Wild Card: Heaven is the symbol of what is right and good? Aziraphale since when??? UGH, I have to meta more about this: Aziraphale's (and Crowley's) belief in the ineffable plan and how it affects his idea of reform/fixing the institutional problem of Heaven.)
#good omens#good omens meta#aziraphale#crowley#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#aziraphale defense squad#aziraphale meta
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Dear MC
A Letter That NB!Barbatos Gives To MC One Day As They Are Visiting The Castle
If you are reading this, then Barbatos has successfully found your location. Don't worry; I didn't force him to. He was actually fulfilling one of Diavolo's orders. Mainly, he wanted to make sure you were still alive wherever you ended up. I simply convinced Barbatos to take this letter with him on his journey.
There have been many things that have occurred in your absence, the most important one being that Simeon has received his sentence from the Celestial Realm. Shortly after you left, as a matter of fact. Due to his guardianship over Luke--which was deemed excellent by those who judged him--he merely got turned into a human, allowing him to essentially live as his alias for the remainder of his life. The bad news is that shortly after he received his sentence, he's pretty much disappeared. Diavolo offered the manor to Simeon so that he'd have a place to stay, but when Barbatos was sent to check in on him the other day, the place was abandoned. Even Levi's having trouble tracking his location, and he's usually pretty good at that sort of thing.
Speaking of Luke, we haven't heard much from him, either. Last I heard, he's under Raphael's care, and if I know him, he's probably trying to keep him preoccupied so that he doesn't think too much about Simeon. Or the rest of us, for that matter. Mammon misses him terribly.
I have done my best to keep your true whereabouts a secret, just like you told me to. The only one that hasn't bought into the lies I've told, unsurprisingly, is Belphie. The others have come to believe me over time, but not him. He's been so insistent on knowing the truth that I'm contemplating telling him. The problem with that is he's not the best at keeping secrets, especially where you're concerned. He'd run to Satan, who then would tell Asmo, who would then post about it on every social media platform he has access to, and then everyone would be putting together a search party for you. I know it's coming from a good place--and I'm sure you do too--but as you stated in your letter, that would ruin the mission you're currently on, and you've worked so hard to get your sorcerer's license that I don't want it getting revoked due to my brothers' emotions.
Due to my emotions.
I feel so incredibly empty without you, MC. This isn't me saying that you need to drop everything and return without completing your assignment from the Society; I'm simply stating how I feel. My access to portals has been banned for the foreseeable future because I've been caught a few times trying to escape. My days are spent at the House and RAD, and my nights are spent at the castle. I am no longer allowed to be alone. Diavolo has made sure of it. Not that it's a bad thing, necessarily. Being with someone is better than crying myself to sleep after drowning myself with Demonus. You'll be pleased to know that Diavolo and Barbatos are keeping a strict eye on me in that regard as well. I have a reputation to uphold, after all, and I managed to do fine before you were in my life. That's what they keep telling me, anyway. It doesn't help to dull the pain very much.
I love you. Please come home soon.
Your Lucifer
Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy
#obey me shall we date#obey me nightbringer#obey me mc#obey me lucifer#obey me barbatos#obey me diavolo#obey me lord diavolo#obey me simeon#obey me belphie#obey me luke#so basically og!lucifer wrote a letter that og!barbatos delievered to nb!barbatos#and then nb!barbatos delivered it to mc
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Mohg is a parallel to Satan, as can be seen from the horns, blood worship, fire, horns, wings etc.
The root of Satan as we've come to know him lies in the Greek Satyr, a drunken and lustful goat-man hybrid representing freedom, impulse and instinct, and companions of Dionysus, the god of madness and drunkenness.
However, he is unexpectedly compassionate and respectful. One of the greatest draws to his cult is "love". Mohg seems to flip the Satan notion onto its head, as he is not sadistic and aims for a better outcome for those forsaken by the Golden Order.
Here we can also see the integration of pagan blood rituals, including that of the "blood brother" or "blood oath", where two wounds are pressed together, such that their blood would mingle together. VarrĂŠ* does this.
Dionysus also had worshippers called maenads, female companions who participated in ravenous rites, dancing, drinking and committing omophagia. Maenads established a connection with Dionysus by ripping apart a bull (a resemblance to Mohg, as bulls are black and have horns) with their bare hands, eating its raw flesh drinking blood.
This maddening bloodlust is referenced by contact with Mohg's omen curse, as his blood turned the other war surgeons mad.
The Formless Mother, or the Mother of Truth, craves wounds and bestows blessings. The world of Elden Ring is inextricably linked to violence in every form. It seems like a clear conclusion that a war surgeon, someone who has seen first hand the sheer amount of death and violence caused by war and the Two Fingers, would decide blood is the core truth of this world and a return to paganism is necessary, such that violence and blood could be purified through worship â and Mohg is the Mother's chosen.
I believe Mohg is a twist on Dionysus, rather than Satan. VarrĂŠ, too, is not so much an evil cult recruiter, as he doesn't even mention Mohg unless the Tarnished expresses doubt about the guidance of the Two Fingers. Moreso, the faction strikes me as a worship of Dionysus, pagan blood rituals and the revels of madness.
*Credit to Fenharael:
"Was doing some research for the fic and it is possible (unconfirmed) VarrĂŠâs name comes from the Albanian
varrĂŤ f wound, tearing.
Proto-Albanian *uar(e)nÄ
Proto-Indo-European *wer(H)- (âto cut(off),tearâ)
Sanskrit (vranĂĄ, âwound, tearingâ)"
#white mask varre#elden ring varre#varre#varrĂŠ#headcanon#mohg lord of blood#elden ring#elden ring mohg
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Summary: The year is 1988. After the loss of a beloved family member, you find yourself inheriting an old coffee shop. The quiet bartender at the Hideout across the street just so happens to catch your eye.
(8k+ words; eddie munson x afab!reader; sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie vibes)
Warnings: Vignette style (sorta); Eddieâs post S4 trauma; panic attacks; nightmares; family member loss; grief; alcohol use; mild smut in later chapters so 18+; additional warnings to be added.
(AO3 Link) || Master List || NEXT CHAPTER ||
*
Winter, 1987
*
Everyone tells you itâs crazy.
They say to take the money and sell the property your grandfather left you in his will.
They say to take it and run.
They say donât move to that town, the shopâs a lost cause, the place is cursed.
They tell you theyâve got murderers and the literal gates of hell were open there for a time.
âSatanic worship,â some say.
âCultists.â
âDonât want to mess with their kind; might rub off on you, make you evil.â
âOne of them Freaks.â
âAnd whatever you do, donât ever go to that trailer park,â is the gravest of warnings youâre given. Apparently some girl was sacrificed there, and thatâs when it all started.
Eyes ripped clean from her skull, body broken, just like two others around the same time.
Mangled beyond repair.
The work of pure evil.
âTheyâll tell you everythingâs okay now,â people warn you, âbut itâs not.â
Itâs all lies.
Meant to try and preserve that place.
To try and bring life to a town many believe should have been erased from the map.
But youâve never been one for rumor or superstition.
So you pack some bags with your things and get in your car.
Hawkins it is.
*
All in all, Hawkins isâŚquaint.
A small town with a modest population. People turn and look as you pull into the shop parking lot with bags spilling out of your trunk and piled high in the backseat.
Itâs the kind of town where they wave as you get out, curious gazes trying to get a glimpse of the new girl.
Only youâre not new. A stranger, maybe, but this town made up your formative years.
Memories of walking in the streets, getting ice cream with your grandfather, enjoying a day in the park, riding your bike in the neighborhood flit in your mind. They bring a smile to your face as you climb out of your car and take in the front of Sunshine Coffee.
ItâsâŚdifferent than you remember. Darker, somehow. But whatâs darkness against a little love and light, you think, as you brush your fingers along the front door and push the key inside the lock.
A bell chimes above you and suddenly youâre a kid again, running inside to snatch a cookie freshly out of the back oven.
You brush your hands along your face to wipe your tears away at the memory as you step further into the building, taking in the place.
It seems like your grandfather had kept up with the place up until his death, or had at the very least hired someone to maintain it.
Sure, it needs a little love and updating, but itâs still got that homey feeling. The sort of place that immediately makes you feel at peace when you enter.
Itâs so funny to think this is the same town.
This town people back home said is bestowed with a curse. Itâs a little more rundown than you remember. Buildings here and there with wooden planks in windows, or burn scars, regrowing grass.
But it looks like itâs healing.
Like everything theyâve gone through is becoming more and more a thing of the past.
People seem joyous now, your heart swelling when you later see your new neighbors, an elderly couple that owns the local flower shop, and they offer to help you unpack.
You only thank them, telling them youâre more than okay, but that you appreciate the offer.
And they wish you well on your ways, saying they are proud to see your grandfatherâs shop open up again.
You spend the afternoon walking back and forth from your car to the building, unpacking your things, making yourself at home.
Home.
This is home now.
What a funny thing?
Just wanna make you proud.
*
It takes a few weeks of deep cleaning and reorganizing, but Sunshine Coffee gets back to its normal splendor, with a few new personal touches thrown in.
Youâve updated the place, replaced the darker hues your grandfather preferred with paler shades.
Creams, tans, whites.
Youâve removed the drapery against the windows and swapped them for billowing curtains, delicate laces, whimsical accents.
The windows are full of fresh poinsettias and other red and green offerings. Whatever blooms are in season at the time, given to you as donations from your new neighborsâthe sweet older couple who own the flower shop next door.
Thereâs also a new bar you donât recognize from the last time you came to visit nearby.
The Hideout, the scrawling font declares.
It glows through your bedroom window at night.
The little upstairs apartment your grandfather had built is small, but suitable for your needs. Itâs no more than a kitchen, bathroom, living area, and bedroom that you can access from the back entrance of the coffee shop. You have little other than some necessities at this point, but figure youâll take a trip to the thrift store in the upcoming months once you have cash to spare to spruce things up to your liking.
At night, you can hear music filtering in through your windowsâa different genre each night.
Most nights, it lulls you to sleep.
And itâs not long before the coffee shop is ready for opening, and a âNOW HIRINGâ sign stands erect in the window.
Now we wait, you think, pride blooming in your chest.
Because itâs not much.
But itâs all yours.
A legacy upheld in a town that maybe needs a little bit of hope.
*
Max and El are life saviors that blow in a few days after you hang your sign up in the window alerting the whole town youâre here to stay and looking for help.
Opening day is set for a week from now, and you still need to train the potential staff on how to make the treats on your menu, and the coffees and teas you intend to offer.
And there they are, a flash of red and brown hair as they pull up one day in front of the cafe and knock on the front window. You canât help but think theyâre solicitors at first. Youâve really not ventured far from your shop and apartment yet, still getting used to the new town youâd only visited over the summers throughout your childhood.
You interview them both at the same time, finding them more than capable, and offer them to start training that afternoon if theyâre available. Your grandfather had left enough in his will to ensure you have a little money to last you for a bit, and until you have a steady stream of customers you intend to use it to pay them.
Training goes smoothly.
The girls are naturals, it seems, understanding within a few hours how to make most of your drink offerings and work the register.
The three of you spend the afternoon in your new work apronsâblack in color with Sunshine Coffee written across in pretty white detailing with little daisies underneathâand suddenly it starts to feel real.
Even if itâs a failure, even if you have to pack up and go home, itâs real and itâs yours and youâre doing this.
*
Spring, 1988
*
It starts as aâŚwell, it starts as nothing.
In the beginning, thereâs this nothingness.
Held together only by a mutual love for coffee.
Or rather, his need for coffee to get him through his shifts. Youâre the supplier, really. But thatâs where it starts. Humble beginnings, fleeting glances, soft exchanges. In those breathless seconds, where neither of you speaks, but silence screams.
Heâs the boy with eloquent sadness, a way about him unfamiliar and curious, and youâre the girl who wants nothing more than to break down his walls.
To find out who Eddie Munson is at his core.
And maybe, just maybe, itâs best this way for things to start.
It gives things a chance to start, to grow, to thrive.
To beginâŚ
*
The first weeks of the coffee shop opening are better than anything you could ever imagine. It seems like the town has been in need of a place to get away, to enjoy the company of friends and community. And it doesnât take long before youâre adding chairs and tables both inside and out to make more room for those wishing to buy a drink or a treat and stay around.
El and Max mill about behind the register. El tending to money exchanges and Max perfecting the foam on her cappuccino for the table of boys sitting near the front of the building who just so happen to be their boyfriends. Theyâre trying to be subtle about it, probably to keep their interest a secret from you (their boss) but you find it endearing, seeing them glance over every so often to look fondly at them.
âGirls,â you call over to them. Two heads whip your way. âYouâve both stayed late the past two days, Iâll close up shop. Go to the movies, have fun, be teenagers. Iâve got things here.â
âReally?â El asks, looking over your shoulder to the longer haired boy to give him a shy little wave.
âYes,â you say, tying your apron around your hips and slipping behind the counter. âGoâboth of you, or else youâre both fired.â
Max snorts at that, untying her own apron from her hips and blowing a red strand of hair away from her face. Her blue eyes clash with your own as she hooks the apron on the racks you have hanging against the back wall.
âYouâre sure?â she asks.
âYes,â you tell them. âAlthough it looks like weâll be needing more help sooner than I expected. If either of you know anyone looking for work, let me know. Now shoo!â
The group of teenagers rushes out the door with no further protesting, leaving you alone with the hustle and bustle of your shop.
And soon, the morning rush slows into the afternoon lull.
Itâs during this time of day, youâve noticed, the building quiets and you have time to clean up a bit around the place.
Patrons sit around in hushed conversation, writing in notebooks, or reading their books as you maneuver about the tables with a rag, wiping down surfaces until they sparkle in the setting sunlight.
Itâs then that the door jingles and in walks your next customer.
Heâs a vision in all black. Dark pants, dark jacket, dark Metallica shirt underneath. His hair is pulled back behind his head, strands coming to fall in curls around his face, forehead full of raven colored bangs. But itâs his face thatâs striking. Heâs all hard lines and sinewy bone, pale skin that accentuates the small dimple in his cheek as he regards the room upon entering. The shadow of his eyes reach yours as you rush behind the counter to serve him, and his head only tilts up just enough where you can see a scar crawling up the side of his face, and another on his neck. But it does nothing to detract from the fact heâs striking.
Beautiful, in a way youâve not seen before.
At your gentle perusal, he tilts his head a bit, angling himself in a way where itâs hidden from view once more.
âWhat can I gââ
âA black coffee, two sugars. Please.â
Short.
Clipped.
No nonsense.
Your head dips swiftly and you rush over to pour him a cup from the freshest pot, fingers trembling a bit as you rip two sugar packets and pour them within, before stirring the drink with a wooden stick.
You walk back over to the counter, grin sliding across your features as you announce, âI donât think Iâve seen you around yet. First coffee for a new customer is always free.â
He grasps the cup in his hand as you offer it to him.
Thereâs a brief tick in his cheek.
Not quite a smile, but not a grimace either. âThank youâŚâ
You tell him your name, pausing at the end to leave him room to say his.
He doesnât, though.
His head only dips and he leaves, the door jingling on his way out.
Well, nice to meet you, too, stranger.
*
The man in all black comes back every day after that.
Every day at four in the afternoon.
He orders the same black coffee with two sugars and never says much more than a few words.
Good afternoon.
Iâm fine.
Thank you.
Every day he seems in a rush, everyday he seems caught up in his thoughts, every day he makes you wonder what it is about him that makes him so distant from the rest of Hawkins.
Youâre mid sweeping one afternoon when you decide to ask Max if she knows anything about the man who says little and regards you even less.
âYou mean Eddie,â she states, wiping down a countertop.
âWhatâs his story?â You ask.
âItâs not really for me to say,â she admits, pausing in her cleaning. âWhat I can say isâŚtwo years ago some stuff happened and he was kind ofâŚin the middle of it all. Why?â
âHeâs a customer,â you tell her, resuming your sweeping. âJust trying to get to know everyone. New girl in town and all, you know?â
*
Over the next few weeks, you make it your mission to try to get to know your elusive customer.
You start with writing silly facts on his cups; you figure itâs lighthearted and pleasant, a great conversation starter even.
Or at least thatâs your hope.
You set his cup aside a little while before he comes in, whatever fun fact is in the newspaper for the day already ready on the outside of his cup. He doesnât react at first, and even when he starts to, you can almost tell what kind of day heâs having by his reactions.
A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.
A twitch in his dimple.
Heâs really not looking to stick around, probably has to be somewhere.
Almonds are a member of the peach family.
A soft uptick of his lip.
He spares you a few extra words that day.
Tells you to have a nice afternoon before slipping out the front door.
A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.
He finally tells you his name, even though Max told you weeks ago now.
Itâs nice to hear it from him, though.
âEddieâŚEddie Munson.â
He says it slowly, as if heâs expecting some sort of response out of you.
Except it never comes.
You only smile, and that seems to calm him a bit, his shoulders slouching comfortably.
He glances down at the factoid on his cup and lets out a laugh.
The sound catches you off guard, just as his voice does most days.
Itâs beautiful and your heart twists in your chest, knowing youâve brought it out of him.
âYou really think someone sat around and counted?â He asks.
âObviously,â you tease, handing him his change. âItâs in the newspaper. Doesnât that mean it has to be true?â
He lets out another laugh and tosses his change into your tip jar, shaking his head as he slips away and out of view.
*
You donât mean to find out where he works the way you do. Youâve been steadily slipping factoids on his cups for the better part of eight weeks when you close up shop for the night and decide to go on a little walk around the neighborhood.
Spring is finally getting warmer, your thin sweater more than enough to block out the chill of the night as you slip out the front door and step out beneath one of the street lamps.
You can hear the familiar thumping coming from the Hideout, but what isnât familiar to you is the sight of Eddie leaning against the front of the building with his leather jacket unzipped, threadbare navy tee in place, and a cigarette between his lips. You spot the flash of silver in the dangling earring in his ear, the curls that dance about his shoulders freely today.
He looks like a phantom in the night, all shadows and pale features bathed in moonlight.
âStreets arenât safe at night,â he calls from across the short distance.
âI think I can handle my own,â you shout back, stepping further along the parking lot. âYou know, those are terrible for you. My grandpa needed a quadruple bypass after all the years he smoked.â
He lets out a low whistle. âIâll give âem up one day.â
âJust not today?â
âNot today,â he admits, glancing over your way. âHeading home for the night?â
âIâŚactually live in the shop. I have an apartment upstairs,â you tell him, crossing your hands behind your back and clasping them there.
You sway lightly on the balls of your feet, a little nervous to be standing before the man who spares you a few words on a good day.
âYou got a lock?â he asks, snubbing out his cigarette on the concrete below with a dark boot.
âA chain one for now. The deadbolt doesnât work well.â
âYou need a new deadbolt then,â he tells you, not quite making eye contact. âThese drunken idiots get up to who knows what when they leave here.â
You bite at your bottom lip, trying to hide your grin. He arches a brow in question, pushing up off the wall to step nearer to you. âEddie Munson, are we becoming friends?â
âThere are no other good coffee shops in town,â he says with a shrug, and if anything it makes you grin wider. âIâll install it on the weekend if youâre around. Before my shift.â
You ask, âHere?â
He nods. âI bartend, yeah.â
âSaturday is good.â
He dips his head once, feet moving him backwards a bit toward the bar. âI have to head back. Iâll see you.â He pauses at the door and adds over his shoulder, âTomorrow.â
âTomorrow,â you echo.
He doesnât smile.
Not yet.
But he waves, and something hopeful flickers in your belly.
*
True to his word, Eddie Munson shows up at three in the afternoon on Saturday.
El and Max wave as he enters, and you wonder if they know him more than they let on, with the way he lets them come forward to press themselves into the crook of either of his arms and they lead him toward your shoddy apartment entrance.
You tend to the front counter as Eddie works out back, showing your newest hire, Will Byers, how to perfect foam on a latte. Heâs Elâs step-brother, you learn very early on, and a son to Joyce who happens to be a regular. Her husband, Hopper, also comes in from time to time.
And though you were hesitant at first in hiring siblings to work together, you learn pretty quickly that Will is the quietest of the bunch, whereas itâs El and Max who tend to get a little rowdier.
âWas that good?â Will asks gently, holding the lid to the cup a few inches above the drink, closing it as you nod.
âPerfect!â
You clap excitedly, earning a smile from the boy just as Eddie comes stalking back in with the girls at his heels.
He glances at you as you approach from around the counter, the skirt about your ankles shifting as you move, his eyes dark as you hold out a coffee cup in hand.
He takes a sip and hums, the toolbag he brought with him over one shoulder shifting as he moves closer to you. âThanks.â
âHow much do I owe you for this?â You ask, not wanting to be a bother.
He was the one to offer in the first place, and yet you feel like you owe him something.
âThis is fine,â he says, holding the cup up for emphasis.
âEddie,â you start to argue softly, chewing at your lip.
The girls look on with equal expressions of interest from over his shoulders.
âThis is payment enough,â he promises, tipping his head up at Will over your shoulder. âHiring all the kids, huh?â
âThey donât seem to mind,â you say, smirking slightly to the girls. âPlus, I think Iâm a fun boss.â
The girls nod in agreement, and over your shoulder Will echoes the sentiment. Eddie snorts, hooking his bag higher over his shoulder. He glances about the room one last time before he cups El over the top of her head and ruffles Maxâs double braids.
âGotta start my shift,â he announces, turning about the heel and heading to the door. He stops to turn and look at you, the shop mostly empty by now. âThanks for the coffee.â
âThank you for fixing my door.â
And heâs gone, out the door and crossing the parking lot to the bar across the way.
El is the first one to burst into a fit of giggles, and soon Max follows. Will urges the girls to keep their composure, but you suddenly have three teens laughing at youâor at least you assume theyâre laughing at you, because their dark haired friend is long gone now.
You whirl on them all, feeling heat bloom beneath your skin. âWhat?â
Your response is their giggling, each kid one by one resuming their job tasks.
Will to his lattes, El to the register, and Max back to cleaning the shop.
You never find out whatâs so hilarious.
*
You decide to switch things up in the weeks that follow, as the month of May starts to bleed into June.
The weather starts to rise and the people of Hawkins start to wear less layers.
Except for Eddie.
Eddieâs always wearing his leather jacket.
Always.
On those days, when Eddieâs storm cloud over his head seems a little extra heavy, you swap his cup with a grinning factoid on it with one that has a corny joke written across instead.
What do you call a pig that does karate? A pork chop.
HeâsâŚwell, heâs not impressed with that one. Only offers you a pitying hum before he marches off and heads to the Hideout.
Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants? In case he got a hole in one.
You think you catch the slightest curl of his lips.
Maybe you imagine it, but it makes you feel warm and giddy inside long after heâs gone, humming a Beatles song as you wipe down tables.
What did the policeman say to his belly button? Youâre under a vest.
That one makes him glower.
Actually glower.
But you know itâs only half-hearted, because he says, âThis one was ridiculous and even you know it.â
âIâm trying!â you whine the words and he chuckles, humming as he slips out the front door, chime dangling as he goes.
Why do seagulls fly over the sea? If they flew over the bay, they would be bagels.
Heâs not happy with that one. But you can also tell heâs not happy in general.
A group of people around a table had looked at him as he entered that afternoon, whispering amongst themselves.
In the months youâve been at Hawkins, you can tell thereâs an affinity for gossip here.
But Eddie?
Heâs always to himself, never says much more than he needs to, makes himself seem smaller whenever possible.
You canât imagine what anyone might have to say about him.
But you hand him his coffee all the same and donât miss the way he tucks his hair over the scars along his neck and face as he walks back out.
Why are there gates around cemeteries? Because people are dying to get in.
Something happens that day.
It takes your breath away.
Eddie laughs, a genuine, joyous laugh.
And whatâs even better? Itâs paired with a smile.
The first youâve seen on his face, and itâs absolutely beautiful.
*
Lightning slashes across the sky and you know itâs only a matter of time before you hear the resounding boom that fills the air.
It sends you shooting up in bed, heart hammering away in your still unfamiliar apartment, moving across your bed to try and flick your bedside lamp on.
Only nothing changes, and youâre still left in darkness.
Power outage.
Your heart kicks up at the dread curling in your chest as you try and navigate about the room. Thankfully you can see light seeping in through your bedroom window. The familiar glow from the Hideout sign catches your eye.
You open your blinds enough to let some of the light in and move about the room to pull on a pair of jeans and some shoes, and then rush over to grab your backpack and raincoat hanging from your closet.
The distance between your shop and the Hideout seems daunting with it downpouring as it is, feet barreling beneath you as you rush across the parking lot and shove the door open.
Hawkins is a small town, you know this, but you realize just how small when everyone in the room whirls around and you recognize them as regulars of the shop.
And just as you recognize them, they recognize you.
You figure very quickly you have three options: rush to the bar and seat near the currently busy Eddie who is making a drink for an eager patron; try to sit with some of your regulars and mingle for a bit; or pick the furthest corner of the bar to hang out in and keep to yourself.
Keeping to yourself rules out, your sleep deprived state carrying you over to the furthest seat, which happens to be a little booth in a corner, away from prying eyes.
You intend to read.
Really, you do.
Pull out the book from your backpack and everything, open to the page where you left off, but the hum of the music from the jukebox in the corner has your eyes fluttering. The mingling of customers as they talk about their weeks, the shuffle of feet against hardwood floors, the tinkling of glasses as groups toast to life has you propping your head up with your hand. You glance over to Eddie and catch his gaze briefly, his hair moving about his face as he works, talking with one of his customers, all stoic and hard like stone.
You remember his smile and you smile.
Your eyes scan the words on your current page but they start to blur. The room dissolves around you. And finally, with the sound of thunder faraway in your mind, you drift off into sleep.
*
âWe close at three in the morning,â a voice says.
âWhat time is it?â You groan against your book, face pressing into the cover, eyes bleary.
He's walking toward you when you rouse, slow movements and long limbs. Light on his feet in a way that seems otherworldly, but makes sense for him.
âThree ten? Fifteen?â
Even in your sleepy state you know who it is right away.
Dark hair, pale skin, chocolate brown eyes.
Eddie.
His body slides into the vinyl booth across from you, a towel strewn over his shoulder, hair pulled back in another one of his signature ponytails.
You blink twice, wondering if heâs about to disappear, but his image only solidifies further the more you come to. âI didnât mean to fall asleep. Iâm sorryâseriously. You can kick me out. I'm sure you want to get out of here and Iâve kept you late. IâŚmy power went out and I saw your lights were still on over here so I walked over and Iââ
You sound tired and itâs a little pitiful on your ears. The new girl who canât even sleep in her own apartment because of a little storm. You curse under your breath, hoarseness lingering as you utter another âsorryâ under your breath.
âBreathe,â he says, sliding a glass of water across the table. âDrink. Slow sips; donât want you choking on me.â
You lift the glass and take a slow sip. That sandpaper feeling gnawing in the back of your throat lessens. âSorryâŚagain.â
âItâs fine,â he says, and the silence between you lingers.
Youâre not used to this. This quiet that breathes and settles into the atmosphere around you. And yet, youâre not sure how to fill those spaces.
Eddie only leans back in the seat, one ankle hooked over his knee, a forearm across the table.
âIâŚuh, donât like storms,â you admit softly, sliding your cup around the table in a circle, settling on trying to get something out of him beyond your normal short responses youâre used to. âThe dark either. Not really. So when my power went out, I just didnât want to, uh, be alone.â
Heâs silent again for a while. Reaches across the table to thumb at the condensation on your glass. It feels familiar, and yet itâs not. Youâre still mostly strangers. Two people who live in the same vicinity as one another, and yet youâre not friends.
Not yet.
You can see the twitch in his fingers, the tapping of them along the surface, rings on his fingers glinting in the light.
Youâve noticed them before, sure, but never like this.
Never so close.
He swallows and you catch the bob of his throat. The shift of his silver chains around his neck. âI donât like the dark either.â
His voice is so soft, eyes focusing on a rivulet dripping from your glass. Heâs not looking at you, and thatâs okay, because youâre still shaken by the sudden vulnerability of the admission.
I donât like the dark, either.
You canât quite mask your disbelief. Him of all people, afraid of the dark, catches you off guard. âReally?â Your voice wavers at the end.
He finally looks up at you, and his eyes are softer than youâve ever seen them. âYeah. Havenât forâwell, for a while now,â he says quietly, slowly. He drags a hand along the back of his neck, rubbing lightly. âKind of why I work here. By the time I get home thereâs only a couple hours till sunrise.â
You sense his hesitance at sharing that. The way he shifts ever so subtly against the vinyl, glancing back away from your gaze. You soften, heart warming at the fact he chose this moment to open up, even if only slightly. Your thumb grazes the side of your glass, eyes intent on a droplet that cascades down the side, and you force a sly grin across your lips.
âItâs why youâre a secret coffee fiend too.â
He huffs out a laugh at that, sides shaking from the effort. âI donât really think itâs a secret.â
You swallow, throat a little dry as you softly ask, âHey, Eddie?â
Itâs a gamble and you fear you might push him too far too soon, but the question rests in your mind all the same. Has been for some weeks now. This wonder as to where Eddie goes when all of Hawkins goes to sleep at night. Why youâve never seen him elsewhere, except for the four walls of your shop and now this bar.
âHmm?â
Your fingers toy with your napkin sitting beneath your glass of water. A corner rips away and you ball it up between your fingers, letting it soak in the slickness of the table from your melted ice. âWhere isâŚhome? I never really see you around town, except for when you stop by the shop.â
âItâs in the next town over. I like theâŚprivacy.â He sounds faraway, even though heâs sitting right across from you.
You understand what he means. Since moving in, you feel like youâve been thrust into a world where youâre constantly under a microscope. People want to know at all times what the ânew girlâ is up to. Youâre used to all the gossip. The hush of whispers on the streets, the questions of what youâve been up to, if youâre seeing anyone, what a young girl is doing moving into a town like theirs. And while most people are accepting and kind, you canât help but to feel like theyâre simultaneously picking you apart or waiting for you to fail.
âHawkins is small, so I understand that. I unwillingly know everyoneâs drama.â
You notice heâs started to fidget with his hands. Pale fingers curl around those silver rings adoring his knuckles and begin to twist, metal jangling against metal. âEveryone?â
Thereâs an innate urge to reach across the table and soothe him. To brush your fingers against the back of his hand, remind him that youâre there to talk and nothing more. To be a friend to him, in whatever capacity he allows.
Itâs clear that thereâs trepidation there over your words. Fear, unbidden.
You shake your head rapidly, wishing to urge away his worries. âNot yours, if thatâs what youâre worried about. Believe it or not, youâre a tough one to crack.â You let out an uneasy chuckle, and add, âbut I think Iâm starting to.â
âThink so?â His brows perk up at that, body shifting to lean forward on his elbows. From this angle you can see every detail of his face, the span of his lashes, the way his bangs tickle his forehead and those shorter curls brush the highest point of his cheeks.
âYeah,â you say, leaning forward onto your elbows. You drop your voice into a whisper, like youâre about to share the deepest of secrets and mutter, âyou prefer corny jokes to facts, for one. You laugh more at them.â
Heâs, well, heâs magnetic like this. Youâre not sure he even sees it. This quality of curiosity that brims when heâs near, to know, to learn about him. âThatâs because theyâre so awful I have to. I donât want to hurt your feelings, you know?â
Mirth bubbles in your gut at his words. âYou actually love the kids that work for me.â
âTheyâreâŚtheyâre good kids.â He says it looking off into the distance a little.
You imagine heâs thinking of El, Will and Max. You drift off all the same, thinking of them with their glowing kindness and effervescent personalities. Each one a bright spot in your life and valuable both to your business and personally as the children that brighten your days.
âYou like black coffee with two sugars. Fitting. Tells me a lot about you.â Itâs said brightly, practically giddy as your elbows press further into the tabletop.
âYeah? Like what?â
âYou like a little sweetness in your life.â
He guffaws. Head drops back as he shakes with it. You pout as he meets your gaze, his voice light as he opens his mouth to speak. âThat was about as bad as your corny jokes,â he tells you. âPlus I gave you that one for free. Doesnât count.â
âThat's all Iâve got so far from you.â You slide the glass closer to your form, fingers circling around the base. âbut Iâm patient.â
Heâs suddenly very interested in the clock resting over your shoulder. You know itâs there when you follow the line of his sight and see it there, his dark eyes flickering between that and you, and then the bar on the far side of the room. His fingers drift up to the towel over his shoulder, curling around the edge as he slides it down and holds it within his palm.
âIâŚshould really close up the place. Iâll drive you home. Just give me a few, okay?â Heâs already standing. Long limbs slide out of the side of the booth, his earring glinting in the moonlight drifting in from the open windows.
You immediately feel a burning in your gut at the thought of inconveniencing someone you barely know, hands coming up in front of you as you urge, âYou donât have to. Itâs a short walk.â
His response is a hard stare and a monotone, âItâs pouring.â
âOkay, if you insist.â You force an uncertain smile onto your face, pushing your glass away from your form to let it rest in the center of the table.
Heâs already walking behind the bar when he says, âI insist.â
You sit in silence as he works. Heâs diligent and swift about it, moving in and out of tables and chairs, making sure every inch of the building is spick and span. You remain with your head in your hand, elbow on the table, simply watching him. You try to remain inconspicuous about it, not wanting to linger too long on his features. And yet thereâs the part of you that cannot look away from him. That magnetic quality sparking something unfamiliar in your gut; this pull to figure out his secrets, crack the code to what makes him him.
You notice he hums as he works, a tune you vaguely recognize spilling through pursed lips, his lithe arms shifting as he does.
He watches you, too, you notice after a while.
Dark eyes haunting and imploring, drifting to your frame every so often.
You wonder what heâs thinking.
You wonder how he sees youâif he looks at you with as much curiosity as you do him.
And then heâs reaching for his wallet and keys from a lock box kept in a secret space behind the bar, fingers jingling as he holds the silver metal aloft before him.
You rush over to him when he waves you over, moving to go stand at his side as the two of you slip from the building doors and he locks up behind you. He leads you to a van in silence and opens the passenger side door as you walk around the vehicle. Thereâs a brief moment of touch as he extends a hand to you and you climb inside, trying to move quickly to avoid being soaked to the bone once more. Eddie drapes a hand over his head and rushes around the other side, clambering in with a loud huff and slamming the door shut beside him.
His head shakes as he enters, the audible jingle of metal in his ear echoing in the space as water droplets flick from the moist ends of his hair. You toy with the edge of your sweatshirt awkwardly, uncertain of where to look. Where to focus as he turns the radio on and metal music blares out. Catching your sudden jolt, his fingers move to lower the knob, eyes meeting yours in the dark of the moonlight. The music settles into a quiet hum, lyrics swirling around in your mind as he regards you carefully.
Thereâs a beat of silence, and then he says, âYou know, you can come to the Hideout after your shop closes. I might not be able to talk much, butâŚwell, itâs there.â
Itâs an invitation.
An opening.
A welcome to his world.
You donât miss that; you donât miss the clear implication of his words. The fact he doesnât mind you being in his space, being near him, spending time within his company.
But you can sense his nervousness. The way he shifts in his seat and curls his palm around the steering wheel, hands a little shaky as he lets out a slow exhale. Trying to ease the tension, you turn in your seat and glance up at him through your lashes, passing him your kindest of smiles.
âAcross the parking lot from me,â you say, a little uneasily, a little nervousness brimming at the surface.
Youâre only feet away from one another on a good day.
A thirty second walk, if you were to time it.
âYup,â he says, turning his eyes onto the building in front of him as he puts the key into the ignition and starts the car.
Itâs a short drive.
The shortest really.
He turns around in a giant circle and ends up in front of your building, car jerking lightly as he puts it into park and pulls the key from the ignition. Your hands slide across the fabric against your thighs, throat burning as you look across the space between the two of you and see him regarding you carefully like he expects you to flit away into the wind. Like he expects to blink and your appearance will disappear from his mind, there one moment and gone the next like an apparition.
You gather your things in your hand and reach for the door handle.
âWell, thank you for keeping me company tonight and for driving me home,â you say, opening the side door.
âNot a problem at all.â His voice is quiet.
But he gives you one of those smiles, and that brings an unthinkable joy to your heart.
âGoodnight, Eddie.â
âGoodnight.â
*
It really starts with trips after work.
Theyâre quiet and tentative.
Nothing more than glances over the top of your glass of wine or whatever you choose for the night as you sit near the bar.
Eddie hadnât lied when he said he might not be able to talk much. Heâs typically occupied for a majority of his shift, and when heâs not heâs cleaning or trying to maintain the place.
Even when you can catch up to talk, itâs brief conversation there and there about the day to day.
His remarks about whatever fact or joke you put on his cup that day, talks about the weather, how your day was.
But you find you enjoy it, and soon enough routine takes place: everyday you open up for your shift, stay till close and help the kids clean up, and then rush across the parking lot to share space with your work neighbor.
So yes, it starts as strangers, but itâs grown into this.
Into this something.
You find that you like it.
*
âSo whatâs your story?â Itâs Chance Muller who asks you.
Chance with his dark hair and brown eyes.
Chance with his muscular stature, honed by years of sports in school and maintenance thereafter.
Heâs pretty, in this almost too perfect kind of way.
And he likes you; that much is obvious very early on, simply because heâs been coming every time he has the early shift at work just to see you before getting in his cop car.
Heâs nice and he makes you smile.
But heâs not Eddie.
Itâs an acceptance that came crashing earlier that morning, just days after your encounter with him at the Hideout.
Your curiosity for the dark haired metalhead has become an undeniable attraction.
A crush.
Something that feels so silly as an adult, and yet itâs your reality all the same.
âWhat do you mean?â
You snap yourself from your thoughts, remembering that Chance is there in his tan uniform, hands on his hips as you walk about the mostly empty coffee shop.
Itâs still early.
Barely minutes after opening your doors for the day. Most people donât come until the morning rush that starts around seven in the morning.
Itâs five now.
He steps closer to you, his cup of coffee against the table heâs set it on.
Broad shoulders fill the empty spaces in the room, the outline of his arms visible even in the long sleeves of his uniform.
Heâs broader and bigger than Eddie, you think.
Eddie, who is all lithe and less hardened. He reminds you of the way elves are described in his favorite books heâs recently lent you to read.
âYouâre the new girl in town. From what Iâve heard, everyone loves you. But youâre still singleâwhat gives?â He leans his elbows against the countertop, dark eyes swooping up to meet yours.
You donât feel the gentle kick up of your heart, nor the rustle of butterflies in your belly.
âChanceâŚâ Your chest burns at his insinuation, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.
âIâm serious.â
âI donât know,â you shrug, whirling back around to face him. âI guess I just havenât met the right one.â
Itâs been a while since your last relationship, and even then it hadnât been anything serious.
Youâve always been moving, always on the go, trying new things and never lingering in one place for long enough to try.
You know what heâs about to ask you even before he gets a chance to say it.
And yet your stomach tumbles as he says, âI was thinkingâŚif youâre up for it, we could grab dinner then?â
You let out a nervous laugh. âChance.â
âCome on now.â
âI have my employees and my business to look after. Itâs still so new, I donât really think I can take time off.â
Itâs not a lie, but you know itâs not the best excuse, either.
You havenât really taken any time for yourself, no; with the business, youâre constantly working on trying new things, making sure your money is on track, payroll is upkept.
And then thereâs the cost of supplies and the repairs here and there that youâve needed done.
âWould you at least think about it?â His eyes are soft and your resolve dissolves a bit, recognizing that it is only one date.
It doesnât automatically mean there will be more.
Itâs an opportunity to try, however.
âYouâre my customer.â
His fingers trail along the petals of the flowers youâve set up in front of the cash register. Pretty, in a bright arrangement of purples, pinks and greens. âPretty sure everyone in Hawkins is one of your customers.â
âFine, I'll think about it.â You offer him an easy smile.
He begins walking backwards toward the door, keys in his palm jangling as he grins at you widely and says, âJust two adults out for dinner. Doesnât have to be anything crazy, just us getting to know each other. Everyone in town knows of you, but I get the feeling that no one really knows you knows you. Was thinking we could change that.â
âI bet you use that one on all the ladies. I told you Iâll think about it,â you reply. âDon't you have to get to work? Writing traffic tickets and all that fun stuff.â
His hand is around the door when he tips his head up and raises a hand to wave. âIâll see you around, okay?â
âBye, Chance.â
*
Eddieâs head perks up as you come barreling in the front door to the Hideout. Itâs a quieter night, as Mondays always are, and he barely has a moment to blink before youâre hopping up onto one of the barstools across from him and tapping your fingers along the tin you cradle close to your body.
He eyes it wearily, tucking some bills away in a cash register.
âI need your opinion,â you say, sliding the tin closer to him.
âWhatâs up?â He crosses the distance between you two, ringed fingers tapping along the counter.
Heâs wearing red today beneath his jacket and youâre pretty sure itâs your favorite color youâve seen on him yet.
âTry these,â you tell him, not failing to catch the slight wince he makes, âdonât make that face, theyâre not poisoned.â
He moves to lift one of the foil corners, glancing in hesitantly with his head tilted back a bit. Itâs as if he expects something to jump out at him. âWhatâs wrong with them then?â
âI canât make you cookies and expect you to eat them?â
âI donât want pity cookies.â He shoves them back your way, though thereâs no malice in the smile that adorns his lips.
âThey are not pity cookies. Theyâre âI'm-trying-a-new-recipe-for-my-shop-and-need-an-unbiased-opinion-cookies.ââ You push them closer to him once more. âYouâll tell me theyâre crap if theyâre crap.â
âHow do you know?â
You fix him with a blank stare. âYou laugh at my jokes because you hate them, not because theyâre funny. Need I say more?â
He doesnât, because despite his bumbling, thereâs one thing youâve learned about Eddie in these past months: the way to his heart is through his stomach.
The man loves sugar.
You figured as much with his coffee order, and have brought him extra treats from the shop here and there whenever you can.
So it comes as no shock to you when he takes a bite of the cookie and turns away from you to hide the way his dimples immediately pop as a smile blooms across his cheeks. âOhâŚoh.â
âGood?â
âMm.â Itâs a hum around a mouthful of food as he puts the rest of the cookie in his mouth.
Yet heâs still not given his answer. Nervousness wells and bubbles.
âEddie, if theyâre garbage tell me theyâre garbage. I wonât cry.â
âYou cried last week at The Hobbit,â he points out.
âThatâs because you didnât warn me that everyone dies. I walked in blind. Blind.â
âYeah, but you loved it. You asked me to keep my copy after you finished.â
You had.
And heâs right, because you did love it. You loved even more heâd felt comfortable enough to share something so special to him with you.
âIâm still upset you said no.â
âIâve had that thing for ages. Iâll never give it away. Just admit you loved it. Itâs okay to be wrong about things sometimes.â Heâs enjoying himself. You want to wipe the smug look clean from his face.
âAll I said was I like books that have love in them.â
âIâd say The Hobbit has love. Maybe not romantic love, but thereâs love there.â
âTrue. Although Iâm stuck on Tom Bombadil in The Fellowship of the Ring.â
âI thought youâd enjoy him, seeing as youâre Miss Sunshine around town. Itâs what everyone says, at least.â
âAnd what about you?â you ask. âWhat do you say?â
âIâm not sure yet.â
âYouâve known me for almost three months now. Here I thought we were friends.â
âAre we?â He tips his head to the side.
âYeah, I think so.â
âI donât have many of those these days.â He winces at that.
âWell, I have one of those these days.â
His eyes narrow, disbelieving. âThatâs bull.â
âEveryone knows me in town, sure, but they donât know me.â
âSometimes thatâs best,â he admits quietly. âSometimes thatâs safer.â
âIs that how it is for you?â
Him keeping people at arm's length at all times.
Him only going out in the later hours of the day, staying up late into the night.
Him never opening up beyond a certain point, cards always close to his chest.
He goes quiet at your words, and you worry youâve offended him.
âThe cookies are great,â he finally says.
Conversation over.
âIâll make you more tomorrow.â
âIâd like that.â
Thereâs another pause.
You canât hide the fear of his upset, your mouth curling downward.
His eyes slide across your face, and he reaches over to grab another cookie.
A peace offering.
âAnd for the record, I think we can be friends,â he says.
It really begins as friends.
*
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