#do not believe Satan's lies
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devildomwriter ¡ 8 months ago
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Why Lucifer is A Good Brother
*Somewhat chronologically in order everything is canon and if you want the reference I’ll give it to you*
*Heavy spoilers*
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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 “Jewel of the Heavens” 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.
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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.
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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 wouldn’t remember him and he could never see her again and he carried the burden for thousands of years until MC’s 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 weren’t outcast and in the Devildom it was so they weren’t imprisoned or killed.
His brothers believe he’s more loyal to Diavolo than to them but he does this FOR them.
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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 wouldn’t be alone. Even though this decision meant he wouldn’t be able to see his brothers and they’d 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 brothers’ sakes to give them the same position of respect they had in the Celestial Realm.
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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 wasn’t angry he felt sorry for Raphael—a former brother.
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Lucifer continuously fights those many times stronger than him all for his family’s 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.
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When Belphegor threatened treason and war, he lied to the ruler of the Devildom and hid Belphegor away to PROTECT him.
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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.
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When Lucifer had amnesia he immediately bonded with his brothers again and revealed many things he’d done secretly to help them like pulling strings to get Mammon the car he worked so hard for.
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He was even willing to sacrifice himself to let MC live who became family (or romantic interest—up to you) and his final ask was that they take care of his brothers.
Lucifer’s methods seem strict, unforgiving, and cruel but remember this is HELL, the DEVILDOM. Law only recently was created and Diavolo may be forgiving but who’s to say his father or descendants would be just as lenient? If his brothers don’t behave it could mean the worst and he refuses to lose another family member.
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sabine-smitten-obviously ¡ 6 months ago
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We need to talk about this
Can we pls take a moment to pause here and talk about this scene?
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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. ❤️
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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. ❤️
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
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artist-issues ¡ 1 year ago
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“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”
Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.
Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.
It’s 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 don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.
If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m 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 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.
Anything that’s 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 didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s 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 it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”
Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re 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 He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”
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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. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”
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 “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”
And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”
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 “doesn’t need” 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 that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t 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 can’t 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: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.
White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.
And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If 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 He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”
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 don’t 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 doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” 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. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t 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 it’s 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 don’t 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 others—OR 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 we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”
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White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.
Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.
Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t 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 he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?
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This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.
That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s 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.
You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll 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 doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.
White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s 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. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.
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astrobolical ¡ 1 year ago
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To make you forget, if only for a while
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How the kings (Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub) alleviate your fears and worries, at least for a little while— 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 there’s no way Leviathan doesn’t have a larger source of water in his home— his bathtub just being his favourite— it’s not as though he’s going out to find any.
Oh, and I went with “Bell” as Beelzebub’s nickname, as it’s 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
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Your voice had fallen silent, trailing behind the trio in front of you— and Satan cursed himself as he came to realize far too slowly that you’d 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 rubble— trying their best to survive. Satan knew, however, that you weren’t 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 everything— 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 hadn’t asked for any of this, hadn’t 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 this— 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 he’d come to a full stop in your stupor.
“Satan?” You questioned, breaking free from whatever thoughts had held you. “Did something happen?” You glanced towards Sitri, as if trying to see if he’d heard someone approaching, or trouble nearby, but he shook his head.
“No,” He placed his hand atop your head, smoothing your hair out gently. “Nothing’s changed… I just think we need a break.”
You pouted, studying his eyes and expression. “A break? I’m fine…” You lied through your teeth— he’d 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 situation— you however, felt lost.
He led you, primarily, through the alleys and side streets you hadn’t yet seen, keeping away from the carnage you’d been surrounded by. His pace was quick, determined, keeping you against him as he trekked. You couldn’t 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, you’d 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 you’d 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 another— 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 attitude— a wonderful and welcome feeling, compared to the ghastly reminders just outside.
Satan and Sitri — and even Ppyong— joined in on the revelry, encouraging the energies around them and rallying the morale. Unlike the last visit to a bar that you’d 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 frames— 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, he’d pull you more fully into his lap and against him with a snarl.
You hadn’t laughed as much as you did then in what felt like your entire life— hadn’t 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 lips— choosing to ignore the whoops and calls of the others in the room— and caught him off guard.
His eyes were wide as you leaned towards his ear. “Thank you,” You murmured, so quiet you were sure that only he (and perhaps Sitri) could hear. “For bringing me here, Satan.” You knew how much he cared for the denizens of Gehenna, how much he treasured and valued each and every one of them. And you’d realized that’s exactly why he’d brought you to such a place, at such a dire time.
In your moment of heartbreak and darkness, he’d brought you to them. To a place you were sure he’d probably often escaped to himself when his mind spiraled and he couldn’t 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 count— so you allowed yourself to enjoy his, and his people’s, company well into the night. Until the drinks finally slowed, and he’d ushered you to a place to rest on the upper floor. It was then that he returned the kiss you’d stolen earlier, with fervour, as if imploring you to realize that you were never alone in this.
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He was alarmed— his gut telling him something was amiss, even if he wasn’t 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 it— it was not admiration, not his coveted greed, it was nothing. Mammon couldn’t understand why you weren’t pleased with your surroundings, or what all you may be thinking… just that he didn’t 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 nothing— he’d 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 you— 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 he’d graced you with.
His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, and pressed against him as you were you couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling of the vibrations. “What is bothering you, MC?” He questioned, eyes that looked like molten gold peering into yours with concern.
You stared back, silent, unsure how to answer— 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. “Nothing,” you finally relented, though accompanied by a forced smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. “I’m alright.”
Mammon did not know doubt, or lies— 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, Mammon’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. “…While I do not know—or even understand— doubt, MC, I know that there is something wrong. I just know.”
He looked pained as his eyes bore into yours, unyielding as he studied your expressions. His grip became a little tighter as he sighed. “Can you not trust me?”
The question made your breath hitch, and you shook your head rapidly. “I trust you!” You reassured, your heart wrenching at his assumption. Of course you trusted Mammon— with everything in you, you did. You just didn’t want to burden him with your worries, your fears, and your guilt. You’d buried it so deeply within you throughout your journey that you’d thought that maybe you’d somehow escaped it… but it had consumed you the moment you’d finally attempted to rest, comforted by the massive devil’s presence. “I do. It’s just… it’s nothing, really. I’m just worrying over everything that’s happening here in Hell— if Satan hadn't saved me…”
His eyes widened, and his forehead bunted against your own. “Never think that way, MC. Nothing here is your fault— and there is no devil in Hell that thinks that it is.”
“Everyone is ecstatic that you’re here— even more than when they see me!” He continued, placing slow, soft kisses on your face between each breath.
You knew he was right, deep down. That if it hadn’t been you, another descendent of Solomon could have just as easily ignited it all. It wasn’t your burden to bear, just as much as it wasn’t Mammon’s. Whatever happened to God — the event that had earned the angel’s ire— was still a mystery.
You sighed, your eyes glossy as you looked up at him once more. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
“No need for apologies.” He straightened again, adjusting his grip on your bottom. “Just tell me when these thoughts plague you, and I will reassure you of every worry— I am yours, after all. You have me at your side to deal with whatever you feel you can’t. You are the only being to ever have this, the only one I’ll ever give it to.”
He grinned, sharp canines glinting in the light that shone into the room from the elegant (yet gaudy) golden windows, and you couldn’t help but smile— genuinely, this time. “Thanks, Mammon. I’ll keep that in mind.” 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 wasn’t hard to see why. He was powerful, confident— and he so proudly declared himself yours it was difficult to not believe him, to rely on him. “Aren’t you getting tired of holding me up, though?”
Your attempt to change the subject earned you a hearty laugh, that shook you in his arms. “Never!” 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. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll parade you around Tartaros to prove it.”
“Please, don’t!” You laughed, though you could see that he was absolutely considering his own words. “Mammon!”
“It would do you well to go out— and you can still rest as long as you’re in my arms.” You hit his chest, grumbling about how impossible he was— 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 didn’t mind— 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 didn’t 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.
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Your mind was elsewhere, lost deep within unwanted thoughts that forced their way through despite any efforts to hinder them. Leviathan, in a way, couldn’t fault you for it— 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 away— 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 clench— 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? He’d 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 into— 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 you’d called his name in your alarm.
The ropes dragged you closer to him— surprisingly gentle— 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. “Come, then.” He spoke, a chill running through your spine— from suspense or anticipation, you weren’t sure. Yet despite ordering you to follow, he hadn’t 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 — 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 couldn’t quite comprehend.
Within it was not quite the same castle-like structures you’d 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 Leviathan’s estate. The water’s 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.
“Very few have been here, Child of Solomon. I don’t allow it.” He spoke bluntly, those agile fingers motioning for your freedom (and oh, you knew what else those hands could do). “But,” He continued, turning to face you. “It appears you need something to distract you. Come.”
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. “Wait— shouldn’t I get a bathing suit, or something?”
He stopped, a quizzical look upon his beautiful features. “If you must worry about your clothes, just remove them.” As if assuming you would do just that he released your hand as quickly as he’d taken it, stepping into the water without waiting any longer for you to decide.
It wasn’t 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, he’d keep you afloat with ease. “You’re only the second outside of myself I’ve allowed in here.”
“…Why?” You murmured, enjoying the feel of the small, cool waves on your skin.
“Because it’s mine.” A simple answer, blunt as always. “But … so are you. So I don’t mind you being here, as long as your attention is on me, MC.”
Your heart felt warm as you realized how much you meant to him— 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. “Sorry, Leviathan,” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, which met with a strong hand pulling you closer to him. “For being so distracted before. Thank you for showing me this.”
He hummed in response, more taken with your body in his arms than with your gratitude— though you could very easily see he enjoyed it.
He’d 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 Leviathan’s needy hands barely gave you a moment’s rest, itching for your touch at every turn. You’d give him everything he wanted— how could you deny him, after all?
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The room felt as though it was nearly split down the center as Beelzebub glanced around— 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 so— 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 weren’t 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 didn’t 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 Bael’s cautious yet curious gaze on his back— unwilling to believe that his king would simply sit idly. And he wasn’t wrong, really. Yet Beelzebub didn’t do anything immediately, instead standing and making his way over towards you rather languidly, lazily as though he just wanted to banter with you—despite being told to leave you be.
You didn’t 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 environment— 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 couldn’t 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 you’re quite literally thrown like a sack of potatoes.
“Let’s go out and play, MC.” His voice was a purr, adjusting you quickly before the others could react and taking off out the door with a surprising burst of speed— you hadn’t even known he could move that quickly!
There was chaos behind you near immediately, and you could see the others— particularly Bael— 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.
“Bell!” You protested, though he could hear your insincerity within your voice, a bubble of laughter escaping you at the audacity of the unanticipated situation you’d found yourself in. “Where are we even going?!”
The gloom that had surrounded you already began to crumble, and he laughed as he replied. “Somewhere fun!” He didn’t elaborate, however, as he dealt with the devils in his way, deftly outmaneuvering them.
Looking back once more, you couldn’t 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. You’d 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 he’d 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. “There!” He exclaimed, fixing your hair idly as he spoke. “Now, let’s find someplace fun to waste some time in. Let’s let loose, MC.”
Grasping your hand he pulled you along through the streets, searching out a familiar haunt that would be filling in with devils soon. He didn’t pay mind to the confused looks he got along the way, loudly talking with you all the while. He didn’t let you rest until you’d arrived at wherever it was that he’d 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 wasn’t terribly large, more quaint than you’d 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 guide— and it wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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 didn’t matter if you were any good at dancing, Beelzebub simply wanted you to lose yourself to the music, and more importantly with him.
It wasn’t 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 lower— 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 he’d decided to encourage it within you, too.
Though you weren’t 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.
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athenamikaelson ¡ 2 months ago
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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???
“Alastair talk to me, please! What is going on,” Tears roll down my face as Alastair speeds down the dark back roads of Mystic Falls. 
“I’m not supposed to talk to you about it,” Alastair’s gruff words escape his mouth and I look at him in confusion and anger.
“What the fuck do you mean you can’t 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!”
My breathing is shallow and harsh as I look at my friend. Or not friend. I guess. Alastair’s 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.
“I. Can’t. Tell. You.”
Alastair’s words don’t stop the tears still streaming down my face. 
“What 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,” My voice gets louder with every question, “Was 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?!”
I jeer forward as the car comes to a screeching halt, “I said I can’t tell you! For fucks sake!”
I’m frozen in fear as I look at the black veins under Alastair’s eyes. Eyes that are now looking directly at me. Oh god.
“You’re a…”
“Vampire.”
—
BEEP BEEP
“What the hell,” I groan as I throw my hands over my ears to hide myself away from the stupid phone alarm. 
“Sorry,” Elena’s voice comes from beside me on the bed as I feel her move around. The buzzing continues for a moment before a click of Elena’s finger stops it.
“What time is it,” My morning voice comes out harsh.
“Five,” Elena’s sheepish voice responds and I let out a loud groan. 
“Elena, what the hell. Go back to sleep. We don’t have to be up for school for another 2 hours,” I try to reason with my friend but she’s already standing up.
“I can’t. Ric and I are sparring today. He’s going to teach me how to defend myself. Remember? I offered for you to join.”
I roll back over onto one of Elena’s spare pillows and close my eyes.
“Sleep. I need sleep.”
—
“You’re a… what do you mean you’re a vampire! You can’t be, you’re a bartender,” 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.
“I didn’t realize I had to be one or the other,” His dry voice makes a nasty laugh escape me.
“You’re one of his aren’t you,” I bite at the reference to the devil himself. 
“I’m not his. But…” Alastair's eyes narrow as he rubs a hand over his face, “I’m loyal to him. You don’t understand Y/N.”
“Then help me understand Alastair! Because right now all I know is that you’ve lied to me this entire summer!”
“Just like you’ve lied to me about all your friends being supernatural,” Alastair responds accusingly, and clench my fists.
“That is not the same and you know it. I thought you were human! I was protecting you!”
“And I’m protecting you!”
I flinch back as Alastair yells and raises his hands in exhaustion. 
“Protecting me from what? And what does Klaus have to do with it?”
Alastair looks at me once more and then turns his attention to his hands. I shake my head in annoyance, “You can’t tell me,” I say copying his words from before.
“Take me to Elena’s.”
“Klaus said to-”
“Does it look like I give a flying fuck what Klaus, AKA Satan Incarnate, wants! Just take me to Elena’s,” 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. 
We drive in silence for the next 10 minutes. The only thing being heard in the car is the sounds of my sniffles. 
Thankfully we reach the driveway and before Alastair can even put the car into park, I’m unbuckling my seatbelt and throwing myself out of the car. 
“Y/N! Wait,” Alastair’s 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. She’s standing defensibly as she holds a bat but as soon as she sees it’s me she drops it. 
“Y/n? What’s wrong,” Jenna asks me in a mother-like tone.
“Y/n, would you just wait for a second,” Alastair's voice gets closer.
“Leave me alone!”
Jenna seems confused as to why Alastair and I are fighting. Probably because we’ve been attached at the hip all summer. But that doesn’t stop her from opening up the door and letting me run into her arms. 
“Jenn, what’s going on,” 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. 
“Go away, Alastair,” I turn one last time to the almost upset-looking man standing on the porch. 
Ric pushes both Jenna and I behind him as he stares down Alastair. 
“I think it’s best if you leave now,” Ric and Alastair stare each other down for a moment before Alastair looks around at me.
“I’ll see you soon.”
—-
“Y/n,” I feel a shove to my shoulder and I press my face harder into the soft duvet, “Y/n! Wake up we’re going to be late!”
“Late for what mom,” I groan into my pillow and I hear Elena’s laugh from above me.
“For the first day of Senior year. You know if we’re not there on time Caroline will march herself over here,” At the mention of the blonde I instantly sit up straight. So fast in fact, that Elena quickly takes a step back so we don’t hit heads.
“Weren’t you going to go fight with Ric or something,” I say as I rub the sleep from my eyes and watch my friend put her books into her backpack. 
“I already did,” She laughs to herself, “You’ve 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 don’t get down there.”
I sigh deeply as I throw my legs over Elena’s bed, the one I’ve been sleeping in for the past three days since Alastair dropped me off here. 
“I think our brothers are dating,” I jokingly say out loud and Elena stops for a moment and thinks to herself before nodding along with me.
“Ya, you’re probably right. Should we tell Bonnie,” I roll my eyes at my friend’s question and put my feet into the bunny slippers Jenna bought for me yesterday. 
“I think she already knows,” I stand up and walk past her to the small duffle bag that’s comprised of everything I’d need for my week-long sleepover at the Gilbert’s. I head into the bathroom and start changing and getting ready for the day.
“You really don’t mind me staying here,” I yell loud enough so Elena can hear me through the door.
“Of course not,” She responds earnestly, “Besides, you’re not the only one who needs the company.”
At her response, I sigh deeply and then look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I’d be repulsed and surprised by my appearance if I hadn’t already been like this for the past three days. Dark circles take up half my face, a face that looks like it hasn’t seen the sun in twenty years and I think I’ve started to lose weight, hence the hollowness of my cheeks. It’s been hard to sleep or eat these past few days because every second I’m picturing the dark veins under Alastair’s eyes, the sounds of Dana and Chad dying, and the victorious smirk on Klaus’ face. The latter who we’ve thankfully not heard anything about since that night at the school.
“Y/n! You ready?”
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. 
“Ya, let’s do this,” I open the door and try to smile at my best friend. 
—
“Here we are. Senior year,” Caroline says breathlessly as she, Bonnie, Elena, and I stand in the parking lot of the school.
“Yippee,” I say under my breath sarcastically and I hear Elena laugh. 
“Anyone else think this should feel slightly more empowering,” Bonnie asks and I have to fight back a yawn.
Caroline throws her hands up as none of us say anything, “Okay, so prank night was a bust but we are accepting it and we are moving on.”
“Dana and Chad can’t move on,” I bite and then quickly cringe when I realize how nasty that came out.
“Sorry,” I wince and Caroline sighs and places a hand on my shoulder.
“I know. And what happened was horrible, but we need to try to push past it,” She smiles at me but I can’t 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? 
“You’re right,” Bonnie tries to lighten the mood as we start walking towards the school, “I mean, why should I let the fact that my boyfriend is seeing the ghost of his dead girlfriends hinder this experience?”
“And the fact he’s dating my brother,” I say under my breath and Bonnie shoots me a confused look. 
Caroline looks at me oddly before shaking her head, “Anyways…Yes, and why should I let the fact that my boyfriend was turned into a hybrid put a damper on an otherwise fabulous day.”
“Sure, 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,” I sarcastically say out loud and Bonnie and Caroline both cringe at the mention of Alastair. Two days ago they came over to the Gilbert’s and I filled them in on everything. 
“Today’s our anniversary,” Elena’s voice makes Caroline, Bonnie, and I halt, “Technically, Stefan and I met on the first day of school last year.”
“Yeah, you win,” Caroline says and I fight the urge to roll my eyes because an anniversary doesn’t really seem to be the worst thing that’s happened so far, but whatever.
“Can’t we just go home? Come back tomorrow. Or just drop out,” I try to reason but Elena grabs my shoulder and shakes her head.
“Nope. We’re doing this. We’re putting it behind us and becoming new people. New year. New life.”
I raise an eyebrow at my friend’s sappy words, “Ya. Okay. I guess.”
—
“Theo says he doesn't have a pencil. So I’m going to go meet him and then I’ll see you guys in class,” I tell Elena who shoots me an odd look.
“Doesn’t have a pencil? It’s the first day of school.”
I just shrug. Not really surprised at my brother’s lack of planning, “He does this. I’ll see you soon,” I wave to her and walk towards the cafeteria where I’m expected to meet my brother. 
Right as I turn a corner though I’m knocked into a hard chest.
“Ouch, I’m so sor-”
My words stop as I look up to the person I bumped into and freeze when I meet Alastair’s deep brown eyes. Compared to me, Alastair looks as pristine and gorgeous as ever. But I guess when you’re an immortal being, eyebags aren’t something you really have to worry about. He’s a dark black top that I’m sure is designer and brand new-looking lacks and loafers. 
“Y/n, good morning,” Alastair says in a soft voice as if we’re the best of friends still.
“What the hell are you doing here,” I growl at him and Alastair shoots me a confused look.
“I’m a student here, remember?”
I shake my head in annoyance, “You’re also a vampire,” I whisper-yell out the word so passersby don’t think I’m crazy, “You don’t go to school.”
“Stefan, Caroline and now Tyler do. So why can’t I,” He asks and I open and close my mouth about a hundred time trying to find an answer. 
“That’s not the same!”
Alastair smirks, “And why isn’t”
I raise my hands trying to find a reason and practically growl when I can’t think of one, “How old are you anyway? I bet you’re old. Why would someone old want to come to high school? It’s not like the movies, where everyone breaks out into song and dance. It actually fucking sucks! So just do everyone a favor and leave!”
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.
“What the hell are you staring at,” Alastair’s once calm voice darkens as he growls out to the students. The latter quickly move on at the harsh look and words. 
Alastair looks back at me and his harsh look returns to a calm one so fast I think it’s going to give me whiplash. 
“I’m here for you,” He says matter-of-factly, “And to answer your other question I’m 645 years old.”
I blink. And blink. And then blink again. 
“You’re…”
Alastair smiles at me, “Old. Ya.”
“Y/N! Bless your kind and spirited heart for blessing me on this wonderful Monday morning,” Theo’s overdramatic voice pulls me from my stupor as I’m being slightly pulled back by my bag. 
I turn over my shoulder and see Theo unzipping and then going through my backpack.
“You got any drugs in here,” His question makes me shoot him a glare and he laughs.
“Joking! Kinda. Anyways, I have football practice after school so don’t wait up for me,” He finally pulls out a handful of pencils and I realize I’m definitely going to have to stock up since I know he’s going to lose them all by next week. 
“Oh hey, Alex,” Theo waves to Alastair and then puts a hand on my head, and then pats me like a dog. 
“Bye, my favorite nerd.”
I watch annoyed as my little brother practically skips down the hall, shooting fist bumps at other guys and winking at passing girls. 
“He does know my name isn’t Alex right,” Alastair questions and I laugh.
“I don’t think he cares,” I turn around and am about to smile along with him but instantly stop when I remember that we’re not actually friends. At least not anymore. 
“Just leave me alone, Alastair. I don’t want you here,” I walk past him and make my way down the hall towards Alaric’s classroom. Sadly though I hear Alastair’s expensive shoes behind me. 
“You have Ric’s class? Great! So don’t I,” He says as he easily catches up to me and walks beside me until we get to the classroom. 
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 wouldn’t 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. 
“Nice to see you, Y/n. I’ve missed you,” Stefan’s sarcastic words don’t seem to phase me as I glare at him.
“I wish all the vampires in this town would just die. For real,” I hear an insulted gasp from behind me and I turn back to Caroline, “Not you though.”
Caroline nods her head apporvingly. 
“Welcome back, seniors,” Ric’s voice turns my attention to the front of the classroom, “Let’s, uh, turn our brains back on starting with, uh, this country’s original founders the Native Americans.”
“What about the Vikings?’’
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.
“Well, there’s no evidence that Viking explorers actually settled in the United States,” Ric tells Rebekah as I watch in horror as she plants herself into the seat on my left. 
“Who are you?”
Rebekah smiles up at Ric, “My name is Rebekah. I’m new and history is my favorite subject.”
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.
—
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 she’s 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 I’d be sitting on the grass reading my book. 
So for the past 15 minutes, that’s what I’ve 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 I’m sitting on, it’s been kind of hard to focus. 
“What are you doing here?”
Caroline’s angry voice has me perking up my head as I look up and surprisingly see Rebekah stretching next to her. 
“Sounds like you have an opening on the squad,” Rebekah says and Caroline glares at her and then looks over at me quickly. 
“Actually that spot just got filled,” Rebekah follows Care’s eyeline to me and we both have a confused look on our faces.
“Excuse me,” I question my friend and she walks over to me.
“Ya! Y/n is actually on the team now,” Caroline says matter-of-factly and I cringe at the thought.
“Ya Caroline,” I get her attention and she hums, “I can’t join. One because I literally would rather die, and two because gun shot to the shoulder remember?”
I gesture to my shoulder and Caroline opens and closes her mouth and then rolls her eyes in defeat before going back into line. 
“You were shot?”
I frown as Rebekah almost sounds caring as she asks me. She has a weary expression on her face and I glare at her. 
“You,” Caroline points at Rebekah, “Don’t talk to her. Why are you here?”
Rebekah leans down to stretch ignoring the blonde vamp.
“Hey,” Caroline prods, “Hey.”
Rebekah stands up and stares at my friend and honestly, I wish I had some popcorn to watch what’s about to go down. 
“You can’t just come here and infiltrate all of our lives.”
“I’m only interested in yours,” Rebekah says snarkily, “Your spunk, your popularity,” She looks over at Tyler who is running drills next to Theo, and then back to me, “Maybe even your boyfriend and best friend?”
“Oh, no she didn’t,” I ooh at them and Caroline glares at me. I cringe and pretend to go back to reading. I’m 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 don’t return. Caroline looks at me like she doesn’t know what to do and I just shrug because I honestly don’t know either. 
Caroline walks off and I try to go back to my book but right when I’m about to focus the sound of a whistle is blown.
“Oh! Come on!”
I frustratedly watch as the football coach dismisses the football players way too early. Strange. And it’s not long before Theo is running up to me. 
“What’s up bitch,” He gests as he looks down at me. 
“I’ve told you not to call me that,” I sniff and then cover my nose in disgust, “You stink dude. God damn.”
My brother sniffs the air and then smirks, “That’s the smell of your boy making first string this fall. And, you call me a dumbass, so why can’t I call you bitch. Also, it’s not like I’m doing it deragotivly. I’m a feminist you know. I loveeee women.”
“There’s so much to unpack with what you just said,” I reach my hand up and Theo takes it and pulls me up. Careful to not pull too hard on my shoulder, “I call you a dumbass because you are a dumbass.”
Theo thinks to himself for a moment before smirking again, “A handsome dumbass.”
“You stress me out,” I groan as we start walking towards the school.
“And yet you can’t live without me.”
— 
Elena pulls her car into my Theo and I’s driveway and I sigh deeply when I see my mother's car parked in the driveway.
“You sure you’ll be alright? You can just come back to mine. I really don’t mind,” Elena tells me from her seat and I heavily debate the idea before shaking my head.
“I can’t live in your bed forever. Besides, if I stay over too long Theo will have questions. Questions I’m not ready or even sure how to answer.”
Elena nods solemnly as I open the door and get out. 
“Well, call me if you need anything alright,” I nod at her request, “I’ll see you tonight at the fire. Don’t be late or you’ll have Caroline to speak to.”
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 doesn’t realize I’m here.
“Y/n? Is that you?”
Damnit.
“Uh, ya. It’s me,” I clench my jaw as my mother enters the living room. She looks me over as if I’m just going to disappear. Which right now I wish I would. 
“I didn’t know when you’d be coming back,” She says in a hopeful voice that irks me. 
“Ya, I didn’t either,” We stand in silence for a moment before I start walking to my room, “I have to get ready for the bonfire tonight.”
“Wait!’’
My mother’s 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 don’t think she’s going to.
“I miss you,” Her strained voice has my eyes instantly tearing up, “I miss hearing you here. Laughing into your books, or hearing your music play in your room. Besides Theo, it’s so quiet here. You seemed so happy. I’m so sorry I changed that.”
Her apology and words have me clenching my fists in anger, “Happy? 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, I’m not even surprised you never noticed either of those things since you were always gone,” I glare at my mother who is now crying at my confession, “You’re 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 don’t want your apology. Because what’s done is done. ”
Without another word, I turn around and walk to my room, slamming my door behind me. 
—
“I’ll lure Stefan away from the bonfire then when he’s distracted…”
“I’ll shoot him,” Ric finishes off Elena’s sentence. 
I watch from my desk as the Scooby Gang try to come up with a plan to subdue Stefan at tonight’s bonfire. 
“Can’t Bonnie just juju him or something,” Damon questions. He’s currently sitting on top of my desk. 
“I’m trying to keep Bonnie out of this. I don’t trust that Stefan won’t hurt her,” Elena reasons and I nod.
“If Stefan tries to hurt my girl he’s going to have another thing coming to him,” 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. 
“Put those away, Rocky. You’re staying away from Stefan as well tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
“Caroline, are you covered,” Elena asks the blonde vamp.
“Yes! I will make sure that the old Forbes jail cell is prepped and ready.”
“We’re forgetting a key player here. Rebekah? Wherever Stefan goes, the blonde ponytail tends to follow.”
At Damon’s mention of the blonde, I growl under my breath.
“Which is why it’s your job to keep her away,” Elena answers him.
“How? She’s an original. The last time I checked, we were out of daggers.”
“We could always wake Elijah up,” I say a little too quickly, and everyone in the room deadpans me, “Ok…guess not.”
“So then preoccupy her with your charm,” Elena says and I snort out a laugh.
“Might have better luck finding the dagger,” Ric says and my snorting gets louder.
“Sorry, I’m late. What’s going on?”
Tyler entering the room turns everyone’s attention and I use this to try to sneak Damon’s wallet out of his pants pocket. 
They’re all conversing and I’m 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.
“I didn’t do anything!”
I freeze and see Tyler on the floor unconscious with Damon over him.
“What are you doing?”
Caroline runs over to her boyfriend”
“He’s been sired,” Damon says as he stares down at the boy. 
“What,” Ric asks speaking for all of us.
“Sired. He feels loyal to Klaus because Klaus’ blood created him.”
“Uh oh,” I whisper as I slide the wallet onto the desk in front of me. 
“Loyal how?”
“He’ll seek acceptance from his master. It’s really rare, but maybe not so much in hybrids.”
Caroline looks up to Damon, “So how do we fix him?”
“Get a new boyfriend.”
—
“Just stay behind me and try not to go anywhere with Stefan alone ok?”
Elena’s worrisome expression makes me sigh, “I’ll be fine Elena. No pissing off Yoda. I got it. He’s not the only vamp I’m trying to hide from tonight.”
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 Stefan’s hands and chugs it. Okay then. 
“Elena, Y/n, hi. What are you guys doing?”
“We’re having fun Stefan,” Elena hands me a beer but I reject it, “You have a problem with that?”
“Alright, take it easy,” Stefan says as Elena drinks another beer, “We both know you’re kind of a lightweight.”
Elena coughs, “Really? You think I’m going to let a blood addict tell me how to drink?”
A loud laugh leaves my lips at my friends comment, “She got you there man.”
Elena grabs my hand, drops her empty cup at Stefan’s feet, and leads us away from the two vampires.
“How much of a lightweight are you exactly?”
My question has Elena cringing, “Let’s just say tonight is going to be rough.”
—
I’m peacefully enjoying the quietness next to the fire when an annoying voice comes from behind me. 
“You know when my family and I were humans, once a month before the full moon our village would throw parties like this to celebrate,” I release a groan and stand up when I see Rebekah approach me. 
She instantly stands in front of me and raises her hands in surrender, “Please don’t go,” Her earnest voice stops me, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I bite out.
“You don’t like me yet. And I understand why. You’re loyal to your friends. But I think you and I are going to be great friends one day.”
Rebekah’s words make me frown, “And why is that?”
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. 
“I can’t tell you yet. But, I just know.”
I groan at those words, “Do all of you Mikaelsons just love using that phrase?”
Rebekah’s eyes narrow in question, “All?”
“Ya, you and Elijah. He’s said that to me like fifty-seven times.”
“You’ve met Elijah?”
I nod and look at the fire, “Uh, ya. Once or twice.”
I see Rebekah frown next to me and her face appears next to mine as she looks at my face, “Why are you doing that?”
“Dude you really have to work on personal space. And what am I doing?”
Rebekah points to my face, “You’re blushing! Why are you blushing when talking about Elijah? You’re not supposed to be blushing!”
My eyes go wide at her accusation, “I am not blushing! And certainly not because of Elijah! I don’t even think of the guy.”
Rebekah shoves her finger at me, “Liar! Your heart just skipped! Elijah not supposed to be the one making you blush.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Rebekah sits back and shrugs, “Nothing.”
“Rebekah! Seriously!”
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.
“You’re hurt?”
I sit up and gently rub my shoulder, “I’m fine.”
“You mentioned earlier that you got shot. How did it happen?”
I look at the girl uneasily and for a moment I don’t see the Orignal vampire but a regular teenager. 
“The sheriff shot me when she was trying to shoot Damon.”
“And I’m guessing that is now a dead sheriff,” Rebekah says and I frown and shake my head. 
“No, of course not. It’s Caroline’s mother.”
“I don’t see how that matters. Especially when my brother finds out.”
“Elijah?”
Rebekah rolls her eyes, “You need to stop thinking about Elijah. It’ll only hurt you. I’m talking about Klaus.”
I shake my head in confusion, “What do you mean Klaus? Why would he give a damn?”
Rebekah’s eyes go wide and she clamps her mouth shut.
“Seriously!”
“Just heed my warning alright. Stay away from Elijah. For my family's sake and yours.”
An uneasiness washes over me, and then I sigh when Damon Salvawhore walks over to us.
“Hello, ladies.”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” I stand up and begin walking away but am pulled back by a hand grabbing my own. 
I look down and see Rebekah staring up at me, “I meant what I said about us becoming friends, Y/n.”
I stare at her for a moment before nodding and walking away from the two vampires. 
—
“Where do you think you’re going,” Alastair’s voice halts me and I grit my teeth.
“Of course you’re here,” I don’t turn around and look at him, I just continue walking.  
The vampire doesn’t get the hint the as he catches up to me easily and walks beside me. 
“Where are you going?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Y/n. Where are you going?”
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 Alastair’s grasp as I glare at him. 
“Don’t! Don’t you dare touch me! Just leave me alone,” I yell at him and he shakes his head.
“I told you I can’t do that,” His answer has me practically growling at him. 
“Oh ya, because you’re Klaus’ little bitch. I remember.”
I whip back around and continue walking.
“I am not his bitch,” Alastair says from my side.
“You follow his orders and listen to what he tells you. Kinda sounds like what someone's bitch would do.”
I hear a low growl escape Alastair’s mouth.
“Just tell me where you’re going.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“If you’re going to find Elena she’s already gone home.”
At his words, I halt.
“What?”
“Elena and Ric took Stefan away.”
I close my eyes and sigh. Great. 
“And how would you know that?”
“I was trying to find you and came across them taking an unconscious Stefan away.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise since that means our plan actually worked. It never works. 
“And I bet now you’re going to run off and tell Klaus his precious boy toy has been compromised,” I bite out as I turn towards the parking lot. If Elena isn’t here anymore than I’m leaving. 
“Nope,” Alastair says popping the p.
I stop and turn to him in surprise, “No? Why not?”
“For one, I’m 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 doesn’t hurt or endanger you in the process.”
“Wait…hurt or endanger?”
I watch Alastair tense up as he realizes he slipped up.
“You’re here to protect me?”
Alastair doesn’t say anything as he looks down at his shoes.
“Alastair!”
“I’ve already said too much,” He throws his hands up and I roll my eyes and continue walking. Thankfully my car comes into sight and I march towards it.
“Where are you going?” “If you truly must know home. I’m going the fuck home,” I bite out as I use my key thob to unlock my car door.
“Are you and your mother still fighting?”
I pause my hand on the car door.
“That’s none of your business.”
I throw open my car door and step inside. I don’t look at the vampire as I slam the car door shut and turn the car on. 
I’m just about to peel away when Alastair says one last thing to me.
“Our friendship wasn’t a lie to me.”
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maxdibert ¡ 1 month ago
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Lily doesn’t seem to think she’s 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 I’d be totally fine with this from a character perspective because it’s the teenage condition to be self-centred and poor at self-reflection. But the *narrative* (and the author in interviews) doesn’t 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 don’t buy into that framing, and I didn’t even when I was 10. The use of the word ‘mudblood’ 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 who’s targeting your so-called friend. She doesn’t even consider that this might be why your supposed best friend insulted you in the first place. But here’s 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 you’ll allow me, before diving into the dynamics between Lily and Severus, I’d like to provide some context as to why I believe the biggest issue with many of the characters’ attitudes in the series lies in Rowling’s constant attempt to project her own moral compass through her writing. In doing so, she falls into repeated inconsistencies and creates a narrative that’s 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 he’s 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 “mean girls” who mock those who read and study—something Rowling clearly couldn’t stand. On the other hand, she glorifies characters like Ginny, who has a pretty nasty attitude towards any girl she doesn’t consider cool or "not like the other girls." Ginny treats Fleur like a witch when Fleur has done nothing wrong—her 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" women—those who don’t fit the typical feminine mold, the weird ones (like Luna), the tomboys who are “one of the guys” (like Ginny), or the overly studious ones who don’t 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 "aren’t like the other girls." But not because they’re deconstructing gender roles consciously—they just happen to embody the fantasy of the woman who can give you kids while still being one of your bros. It’s 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 “other” women—the “other” 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 Rowling’s 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 Harry’s mother, who sacrifices herself for him. Molly is the Weasley matriarch, whose entire life revolves around her kids—she hasn’t even looked for a job (which wouldn’t be a bad idea, considering the family’s 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 aren’t independent individuals—they’re extensions of their children. And any woman who isn’t a perfect, self-sacrificing mother (like Merope Gaunt) is either a psychopath or portrayed as a terrible person.
What I’m getting at is that Rowling is far from impartial in the moral narrative of the story. In fact, she’s absolutely inconsistent. She presents characters she sells as "good," whose attitudes are absolute trash, yet she continues to insist that they’re 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 could’ve been, and Luna is the quirky girl who isn’t “threatening” to other women, and is treated with a condescending, paternalistic lens. They are either Rowling’s aspirational figures or archetypes that don’t bother her, or they’re 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. She’s the quintessence of motherhood—but 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 can’t be fulfilled unless she’s a mother. Lily dies for her son, and that love creates a divine, protective magic. She’s 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 James’s perfection, even if vaguely and unsuccessfully, it doesn’t do the same with Lily. Harry questions his father’s actions but never his mother’s. 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 couldn’t 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, that’s a problem. Something doesn’t add up. Rowling is obsessed with showing her own moral line through her characters and doesn’t 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 she’s 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.
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banana-with-a-bow-tie ¡ 3 months ago
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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 it’s “sin”
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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runawaymun ¡ 16 days ago
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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?
Tumblr media
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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nocreativityfornames ¡ 1 year ago
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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 ✨
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.
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obeymefictionwriting ¡ 3 months ago
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Wehehehe >:^D angst if u don’t 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 brother’s/dateable’s reaction/thoughts to MC basically courting their opposite (example Lucifer’s opposite would probably be Levi, Mammons opposite would be Belphie, ect ect)
Even if u don’t wanna, I hope ya have a great day 🫶🫶🫶🫶
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
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devildomwriter ¡ 4 months ago
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Ten Manga I Think They’d Enjoy
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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, Chio’s School Road, Gambling Apocolypse, Kakeguri, Prince Freya
Leviathan
Leviathan loves everything but he’s 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 Snake’s 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
Chi’s 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, Natsume’s Book of Friends, Summertime Rendering, The Promised Neverland
Asmodeus
Asmodeus mostly enjoys romance whether it’s 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, Shiori’s 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, Sachi’s Monstrous Appetite, Starving Anonymous, Something’s 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; he’s a little all over the place
Sleep Princess in the Demon’s Castle, The Girl From the Other-side, Hell’s 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 one’s 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, Stein’s Gate, Happiness
Thirteen
Thirteen is a little all over the place, she likes to see what’s popular but she also enjoys slashers, one’s that take a closer look at death and spirits, and dark romance
Elfen Lied, Attack on Titan, Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid, Momo the Blood Taker, Assassination Classroom, Can’t 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. He’s also a sucker for a pure romance
Heaven’s Design Team, Gabriel Dropout, The King’s Beast, Merman in My Tub, My Girlfriend’s Child, A Sign of Affection, Tsubaki Chou Lonely Planet, An Incurable Case of Love, Monthly Girl’s Nozaki Kun, Perfect World
Raphael
Raphael canonically likes coming of age sports dramas. I believe he’s also he amused by one’s involving ant Christian aspects about angels and demons, heaven and hell. He also enjoys one’s 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 Bride’s Story, Wind Breaker
Luke
Luke loves to try everything but his books are monitored to make sure he doesn’t 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, one’s that take a closer look at humanity and war, classical adaptations, and one’s involving angels and demons.
Spy X Family, Maximum Ride, Takane and Hana, Obey Me! The Comic, Mr Villain’s 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 one’s 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, one’s that involve demons and angels, cute romances, and exciting action and adventure. He isn’t picky and will read anything if it’s 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
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noahthesatanist ¡ 30 days ago
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It’s 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 they’re edgy because they’re “anti-Christian,” but they miss the core of what we know to be true: Lucifer is real. He isn’t some metaphor or symbol for human nature. He isn’t 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 don’t 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 Satanism—our Satanism—is 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 isn’t 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 don’t 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 Lucifer’s 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 “anti-religious” or live without consequence. It’s time to wake up. Lucifer is real. His demons are real. Hell is real. And we—those of us who know this, who have felt the presence of Lucifer and the Goetic demons—must rise and reclaim what’s ours. This is our faith, our truth, and our rebellion, and we will not let it be co-opted by those who think it’s just a way to mock Christianity.
It’s 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. It’s time to take back our faith, take back our symbols, and stand proud in our devotion to the Morning Star.
Lucifer didn’t fall for us to waste our time with meaningless rebellion. He fell for us to show us the path to true freedom. Now it’s our turn to stand with him, to reject the shallow versions of Satanism that pander to those who don’t even believe in him. We are the children of Lucifer, and it’s time to embrace that with every fiber of our being. The fight is coming, and we will be ready! Ave Satanas Ave Lucifer
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alwaysgodownwiththeship ¡ 1 year ago
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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 .
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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!)
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He's terrified. But resolved. And he knows this really will be their last conversation.
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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.
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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.
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(Plus Aziraphale straight up lied to God about the flaming sword that time, right? UMM... Why didn't he fall????)
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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.
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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.)
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666writingcafe ¡ 14 days ago
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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
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littledeathh ¡ 1 month ago
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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 – 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) Varré’s name comes from the Albanian
varrĂŤ f wound, tearing.
Proto-Albanian *uar(e)nā
Proto-Indo-European *wer(H)- (“to cut(off),tear”)
Sanskrit (vraná, “wound, tearing”)"
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abibliophobiaa ¡ 2 years ago
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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); Eddie’s 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 it’s 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 don’t move to that town, the shop’s a lost cause, the place is cursed.
They tell you they’ve got murderers and the literal gates of hell were open there for a time.
‘Satanic worship,’ some say.
‘Cultists.’
‘Don’t want to mess with their kind; might rub off on you, make you evil.’
‘One of them Freaks.’
‘And whatever you do, don’t ever go to that trailer park,’ is the gravest of warnings you’re given. Apparently some girl was sacrificed there, and that’s 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.
‘They’ll tell you everything’s okay now,’ people warn you, ‘but it’s not.’
It’s 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 you’ve 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 is…quaint.
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.
It’s the kind of town where they wave as you get out, curious gazes trying to get a glimpse of the new girl.
Only you’re 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.
It’s…different than you remember. Darker, somehow. But what’s 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 you’re 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 it’s still got that homey feeling. The sort of place that immediately makes you feel at peace when you enter.
It’s so funny to think this is the same town.
This town people back home said is bestowed with a curse. It’s 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 it’s healing.
Like everything they’ve 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 you’re more than okay, but that you appreciate the offer.
And they wish you well on your ways, saying they are proud to see your grandfather’s 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.
You’ve updated the place, replaced the darker hues your grandfather preferred with paler shades.
Creams, tans, whites.
You’ve 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 neighbors—the sweet older couple who own the flower shop next door.
There’s also a new bar you don’t 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. It’s 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 you’ll 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 windows—a different genre each night.
Most nights, it lulls you to sleep.
And it’s not long before the coffee shop is ready for opening, and a ‘NOW HIRING’ sign stands erect in the window.
Now we wait, you think, pride blooming in your chest.
Because it’s not much.
But it’s 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 you’re 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 can’t help but think they’re solicitors at first. You’ve really not ventured far from your shop and apartment yet, still getting used to the new town you’d 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 they’re 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 aprons—black in color with Sunshine Coffee written across in pretty white detailing with little daisies underneath—and suddenly it starts to feel real.
Even if it’s a failure, even if you have to pack up and go home, it’s real and it’s yours and you’re doing this.
*
Spring, 1988
*
It starts as a…well, it starts as nothing.
In the beginning, there’s this nothingness.
Held together only by a mutual love for coffee.
Or rather, his need for coffee to get him through his shifts. You’re the supplier, really. But that’s where it starts. Humble beginnings, fleeting glances, soft exchanges. In those breathless seconds, where neither of you speaks, but silence screams.
He’s the boy with eloquent sadness, a way about him unfamiliar and curious, and you’re 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, it’s best this way for things to start.
It gives things a chance to start, to grow, to thrive.
To begin…
*
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 doesn’t take long before you’re 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. They’re 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.
“Girls,” you call over to them. Two heads whip your way. “You’ve both stayed late the past two days, I’ll close up shop. Go to the movies, have fun, be teenagers. I’ve got things here.”
“Really?” El asks, looking over your shoulder to the longer haired boy to give him a shy little wave.
“Yes,” you say, tying your apron around your hips and slipping behind the counter. “Go—both of you, or else you’re both fired.”
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.
“You’re sure?” she asks.
“Yes,” you tell them. “Although it looks like we’ll be needing more help sooner than I expected. If either of you know anyone looking for work, let me know. Now shoo!”
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.
It’s during this time of day, you’ve 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.
It’s then that the door jingles and in walks your next customer.
He’s 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 it’s his face that’s striking. He’s 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 he’s striking.
Beautiful, in a way you’ve not seen before.
At your gentle perusal, he tilts his head a bit, angling himself in a way where it’s hidden from view once more.
“What can I g—”
“A black coffee, two sugars. Please.”
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, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around yet. First coffee for a new customer is always free.”
He grasps the cup in his hand as you offer it to him.
There’s a brief tick in his cheek.
Not quite a smile, but not a grimace either. “Thank you…”
You tell him your name, pausing at the end to leave him room to say his.
He doesn’t, 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.
I’m 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.
You’re 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.
“You mean Eddie,” she states, wiping down a countertop.
“What’s his story?” You ask.
“It’s not really for me to say,” she admits, pausing in her cleaning. “What I can say is…two years ago some stuff happened and he was kind of…in the middle of it all. Why?”
“He’s a customer,” you tell her, resuming your sweeping. “Just trying to get to know everyone. New girl in town and all, you know?”
*
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 it’s lighthearted and pleasant, a great conversation starter even.
Or at least that’s 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 doesn’t react at first, and even when he starts to, you can almost tell what kind of day he’s having by his reactions.
A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.
A twitch in his dimple.
He’s 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.
It’s nice to hear it from him, though.
“Eddie…Eddie Munson.”
He says it slowly, as if he’s 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.
It’s beautiful and your heart twists in your chest, knowing you’ve brought it out of him.
“You really think someone sat around and counted?” He asks.
“Obviously,” you tease, handing him his change. “It’s in the newspaper. Doesn’t that mean it has to be true?”
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 don’t mean to find out where he works the way you do. You’ve 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 isn’t 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.
“Streets aren’t safe at night,” he calls from across the short distance.
“I think I can handle my own,” you shout back, stepping further along the parking lot. “You know, those are terrible for you. My grandpa needed a quadruple bypass after all the years he smoked.”
He lets out a low whistle. “I’ll give ‘em up one day.”
“Just not today?”
“Not today,” he admits, glancing over your way. “Heading home for the night?”
“I…actually live in the shop. I have an apartment upstairs,” 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.
“You got a lock?” he asks, snubbing out his cigarette on the concrete below with a dark boot.
“A chain one for now. The deadbolt doesn’t work well.”
“You need a new deadbolt then,” he tells you, not quite making eye contact. “These drunken idiots get up to who knows what when they leave here.”
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. “Eddie Munson, are we becoming friends?”
“There are no other good coffee shops in town,” he says with a shrug, and if anything it makes you grin wider. “I’ll install it on the weekend if you’re around. Before my shift.”
You ask, “Here?”
He nods. “I bartend, yeah.”
“Saturday is good.”
He dips his head once, feet moving him backwards a bit toward the bar. “I have to head back. I’ll see you.” He pauses at the door and adds over his shoulder, “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” you echo.
He doesn’t 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. He’s El’s 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 it’s El and Max who tend to get a little rowdier.
“Was that good?” Will asks gently, holding the lid to the cup a few inches above the drink, closing it as you nod.
“Perfect!”
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. “Thanks.”
“How much do I owe you for this?” 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.
“This is fine,” he says, holding the cup up for emphasis.
“Eddie,” you start to argue softly, chewing at your lip.
The girls look on with equal expressions of interest from over his shoulders.
“This is payment enough,” he promises, tipping his head up at Will over your shoulder. “Hiring all the kids, huh?”
“They don’t seem to mind,” you say, smirking slightly to the girls. “Plus, I think I’m a fun boss.”
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 Max’s double braids.
“Gotta start my shift,” 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. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Thank you for fixing my door.”
And he’s 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 you—or at least you assume they’re laughing at you, because their dark haired friend is long gone now.
You whirl on them all, feeling heat bloom beneath your skin. “What?”
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 what’s 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.
Eddie’s always wearing his leather jacket.
Always.
On those days, when Eddie’s 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.
He’s…well, he’s 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 he’s gone, humming a Beatles song as you wipe down tables.
What did the policeman say to his belly button? You’re under a vest.
That one makes him glower.
Actually glower.
But you know it’s only half-hearted, because he says, “This one was ridiculous and even you know it.”
“I’m trying!” 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.
He’s not happy with that one. But you can also tell he’s 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 you’ve been at Hawkins, you can tell there’s an affinity for gossip here.
But Eddie?
He’s always to himself, never says much more than he needs to, makes himself seem smaller whenever possible.
You can’t imagine what anyone might have to say about him.
But you hand him his coffee all the same and don’t 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 what’s even better? It’s paired with a smile.
The first you’ve seen on his face, and it’s absolutely beautiful.
*
Lightning slashes across the sky and you know it’s 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 you’re 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.
*
“We close at three in the morning,” a voice says.
“What time is it?” 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.
“Three ten? Fifteen?”
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 he’s about to disappear, but his image only solidifies further the more you come to. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m sorry—seriously. You can kick me out. I'm sure you want to get out of here and I’ve kept you late. I…my power went out and I saw your lights were still on over here so I walked over and I—”
You sound tired and it’s a little pitiful on your ears. The new girl who can’t even sleep in her own apartment because of a little storm. You curse under your breath, hoarseness lingering as you utter another ‘sorry’ under your breath.
“Breathe,” he says, sliding a glass of water across the table. “Drink. Slow sips; don’t want you choking on me.”
You lift the glass and take a slow sip. That sandpaper feeling gnawing in the back of your throat lessens. “Sorry…again.”
“It’s fine,” he says, and the silence between you lingers.
You’re not used to this. This quiet that breathes and settles into the atmosphere around you. And yet, you’re 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.
“I…uh, don’t like storms,” 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 you’re used to. “The dark either. Not really. So when my power went out, I just didn’t want to, uh, be alone.”
He’s silent again for a while. Reaches across the table to thumb at the condensation on your glass. It feels familiar, and yet it’s not. You’re still mostly strangers. Two people who live in the same vicinity as one another, and yet you’re 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.
You’ve 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. “I don’t like the dark either.”
His voice is so soft, eyes focusing on a rivulet dripping from your glass. He’s not looking at you, and that’s okay, because you’re still shaken by the sudden vulnerability of the admission.
I don’t like the dark, either.
You can’t quite mask your disbelief. Him of all people, afraid of the dark, catches you off guard. “Really?” Your voice wavers at the end.
He finally looks up at you, and his eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Yeah. Haven’t for—well, for a while now,” he says quietly, slowly. He drags a hand along the back of his neck, rubbing lightly. “Kind of why I work here. By the time I get home there’s only a couple hours till sunrise.”
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.
“It’s why you’re a secret coffee fiend too.”
He huffs out a laugh at that, sides shaking from the effort. “I don’t really think it’s a secret.”
You swallow, throat a little dry as you softly ask, “Hey, Eddie?”
It’s 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 you’ve never seen him elsewhere, except for the four walls of your shop and now this bar.
“Hmm?”
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. “Where is…home? I never really see you around town, except for when you stop by the shop.”
“It’s in the next town over. I like the…privacy.” He sounds faraway, even though he’s sitting right across from you.
You understand what he means. Since moving in, you feel like you’ve been thrust into a world where you’re constantly under a microscope. People want to know at all times what the ‘new girl’ is up to. You’re used to all the gossip. The hush of whispers on the streets, the questions of what you’ve been up to, if you’re seeing anyone, what a young girl is doing moving into a town like theirs. And while most people are accepting and kind, you can’t help but to feel like they’re simultaneously picking you apart or waiting for you to fail.
“Hawkins is small, so I understand that. I unwillingly know everyone’s drama.”
You notice he’s started to fidget with his hands. Pale fingers curl around those silver rings adoring his knuckles and begin to twist, metal jangling against metal. “Everyone?”
There’s an innate urge to reach across the table and soothe him. To brush your fingers against the back of his hand, remind him that you’re there to talk and nothing more. To be a friend to him, in whatever capacity he allows.
It’s clear that there’s trepidation there over your words. Fear, unbidden.
You shake your head rapidly, wishing to urge away his worries. “Not yours, if that’s what you’re worried about. Believe it or not, you’re a tough one to crack.” You let out an uneasy chuckle, and add, “but I think I’m starting to.”
“Think so?” 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.
“Yeah,” you say, leaning forward onto your elbows. You drop your voice into a whisper, like you’re about to share the deepest of secrets and mutter, “you prefer corny jokes to facts, for one. You laugh more at them.”
He’s, well, he’s magnetic like this. You’re not sure he even sees it. This quality of curiosity that brims when he’s near, to know, to learn about him. “That’s because they’re so awful I have to. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, you know?”
Mirth bubbles in your gut at his words. “You actually love the kids that work for me.”
“They’re…they’re good kids.” He says it looking off into the distance a little.
You imagine he’s 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.
“You like black coffee with two sugars. Fitting. Tells me a lot about you.” It’s said brightly, practically giddy as your elbows press further into the tabletop.
“Yeah? Like what?”
“You like a little sweetness in your life.”
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. “That was about as bad as your corny jokes,” he tells you. “Plus I gave you that one for free. Doesn’t count.”
“That's all I’ve got so far from you.” You slide the glass closer to your form, fingers circling around the base. “but I’m patient.”
He’s suddenly very interested in the clock resting over your shoulder. You know it’s 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.
“I…should really close up the place. I’ll drive you home. Just give me a few, okay?” He’s 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, “You don’t have to. It’s a short walk.”
His response is a hard stare and a monotone, “It’s pouring.”
“Okay, if you insist.” 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.
He’s already walking behind the bar when he says, “I insist.”
You sit in silence as he works. He’s 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 there’s 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 he’s thinking.
You wonder how he sees you—if he looks at you with as much curiosity as you do him.
And then he’s 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. There’s 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.
There’s a beat of silence, and then he says, “You know, you can come to the Hideout after your shop closes. I might not be able to talk much, but…well, it’s there.”
It’s an invitation.
An opening.
A welcome to his world.
You don’t miss that; you don’t miss the clear implication of his words. The fact he doesn’t 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.
“Across the parking lot from me,” you say, a little uneasily, a little nervousness brimming at the surface.
You’re only feet away from one another on a good day.
A thirty second walk, if you were to time it.
“Yup,” he says, turning his eyes onto the building in front of him as he puts the key into the ignition and starts the car.
It’s 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.
“Well, thank you for keeping me company tonight and for driving me home,” you say, opening the side door.
“Not a problem at all.” His voice is quiet.
But he gives you one of those smiles, and that brings an unthinkable joy to your heart.
“Goodnight, Eddie.”
“Goodnight.”
*
It really starts with trips after work.
They’re 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 hadn’t lied when he said he might not be able to talk much. He’s typically occupied for a majority of his shift, and when he’s not he’s cleaning or trying to maintain the place.
Even when you can catch up to talk, it’s 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 it’s grown into this.
Into this something.
You find that you like it.
*
“So what’s your story?” It’s 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.
He’s pretty, in this almost too perfect kind of way.
And he likes you; that much is obvious very early on, simply because he’s been coming every time he has the early shift at work just to see you before getting in his cop car.
He’s nice and he makes you smile.
But he’s not Eddie.
It’s 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 it’s your reality all the same.
“What do you mean?”
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.
It’s still early.
Barely minutes after opening your doors for the day. Most people don’t come until the morning rush that starts around seven in the morning.
It’s five now.
He steps closer to you, his cup of coffee against the table he’s 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.
He’s 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 he’s recently lent you to read.
“You’re the new girl in town. From what I’ve heard, everyone loves you. But you’re still single—what gives?” He leans his elbows against the countertop, dark eyes swooping up to meet yours.
You don’t feel the gentle kick up of your heart, nor the rustle of butterflies in your belly.
“Chance…” Your chest burns at his insinuation, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, whirling back around to face him. “I guess I just haven’t met the right one.”
It’s been a while since your last relationship, and even then it hadn’t been anything serious.
You’ve always been moving, always on the go, trying new things and never lingering in one place for long enough to try.
You know what he’s about to ask you even before he gets a chance to say it.
And yet your stomach tumbles as he says, “I was thinking…if you’re up for it, we could grab dinner then?”
You let out a nervous laugh. “Chance.”
“Come on now.”
“I have my employees and my business to look after. It’s still so new, I don’t really think I can take time off.”
It’s not a lie, but you know it’s not the best excuse, either.
You haven’t really taken any time for yourself, no; with the business, you’re constantly working on trying new things, making sure your money is on track, payroll is upkept.
And then there’s the cost of supplies and the repairs here and there that you’ve needed done.
“Would you at least think about it?” His eyes are soft and your resolve dissolves a bit, recognizing that it is only one date.
It doesn’t automatically mean there will be more.
It’s an opportunity to try, however.
“You’re my customer.”
His fingers trail along the petals of the flowers you’ve set up in front of the cash register. Pretty, in a bright arrangement of purples, pinks and greens. “Pretty sure everyone in Hawkins is one of your customers.”
“Fine, I'll think about it.” 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, “Just two adults out for dinner. Doesn’t 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.”
“I bet you use that one on all the ladies. I told you I’ll think about it,” you reply. “Don't you have to get to work? Writing traffic tickets and all that fun stuff.”
His hand is around the door when he tips his head up and raises a hand to wave. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
“Bye, Chance.”
*
Eddie’s head perks up as you come barreling in the front door to the Hideout. It’s a quieter night, as Mondays always are, and he barely has a moment to blink before you’re 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.
“I need your opinion,” you say, sliding the tin closer to him.
“What’s up?” He crosses the distance between you two, ringed fingers tapping along the counter.
He’s wearing red today beneath his jacket and you’re pretty sure it’s your favorite color you’ve seen on him yet.
“Try these,” you tell him, not failing to catch the slight wince he makes, “don’t make that face, they’re not poisoned.”
He moves to lift one of the foil corners, glancing in hesitantly with his head tilted back a bit. It’s as if he expects something to jump out at him. “What’s wrong with them then?”
“I can’t make you cookies and expect you to eat them?”
“I don’t want pity cookies.” He shoves them back your way, though there’s no malice in the smile that adorns his lips.
“They are not pity cookies. They’re ‘I'm-trying-a-new-recipe-for-my-shop-and-need-an-unbiased-opinion-cookies.’” You push them closer to him once more. “You’ll tell me they’re crap if they’re crap.”
“How do you know?”
You fix him with a blank stare. “You laugh at my jokes because you hate them, not because they’re funny. Need I say more?”
He doesn’t, because despite his bumbling, there’s one thing you’ve 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. “Oh…oh.”
“Good?”
“Mm.” It’s a hum around a mouthful of food as he puts the rest of the cookie in his mouth.
Yet he’s still not given his answer. Nervousness wells and bubbles.
“Eddie, if they’re garbage tell me they’re garbage. I won’t cry.”
“You cried last week at The Hobbit,” he points out.
“That’s because you didn’t warn me that everyone dies. I walked in blind. Blind.”
“Yeah, but you loved it. You asked me to keep my copy after you finished.”
You had.
And he’s right, because you did love it. You loved even more he’d felt comfortable enough to share something so special to him with you.
“I’m still upset you said no.”
“I’ve had that thing for ages. I’ll never give it away. Just admit you loved it. It’s okay to be wrong about things sometimes.” He’s enjoying himself. You want to wipe the smug look clean from his face.
“All I said was I like books that have love in them.”
“I’d say The Hobbit has love. Maybe not romantic love, but there’s love there.”
“True. Although I’m stuck on Tom Bombadil in The Fellowship of the Ring.”
“I thought you’d enjoy him, seeing as you’re Miss Sunshine around town. It’s what everyone says, at least.”
“And what about you?” you ask. “What do you say?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“You’ve known me for almost three months now. Here I thought we were friends.”
“Are we?” He tips his head to the side.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“I don’t have many of those these days.” He winces at that.
“Well, I have one of those these days.”
His eyes narrow, disbelieving. “That’s bull.”
“Everyone knows me in town, sure, but they don’t know me.”
“Sometimes that’s best,” he admits quietly. “Sometimes that’s safer.”
“Is that how it is for you?”
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 you’ve offended him.
“The cookies are great,” he finally says.
Conversation over.
“I’ll make you more tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.”
There’s another pause.
You can’t 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.
“And for the record, I think we can be friends,” he says.
It really begins as friends.
*
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