#god damn how much i love your lucifer?? it's endless.

[bloodsalted]

Also Lucifer says he ships himself with Sam saying yes. @cagedmenace

tell me who you ship my character my brother with

"yeah, no. i don't think so, pal. nice try, though. how about you go choke on a bag of dicks? for about a decade.. thanks."

// i couldn't help myself. i just couldn't.

[noemilivv]

Could I please request a Vox, Adam, and Lucifer x GN! Reader who’s typically very chatty and hyper when excited. And maybe somebody says something like “you talk too much”, and it obviously gets to the reader. And how Vox, Adam, and Lucifer would respond and/ or defend their s/o? Thank you!~ :3

ofc!! this is very fun to brainstorm and write for haha (especially for Vox)

Warnings: S1 finale spoilers in Lucifer’s section, randos + Alastor being shitheads

Adam, Lucifer, Vox x Reader who talks a lot

Adam

He had absolutely no idea you felt this way until you two were having a conversation before bed, and he said something he didn't mean

“Geez, you talk a lot.” Adam commented with a light hearted chuckle as he looked down at you, snuggled into his chest and the covers of your shared bed, he didn’t mean any harm though, it was more so commentary.

“I can stop…” You murmured, embarrassed. “No no no, it’s okay, keep going.” He said, rushing to cut you off, as he snuggled your face deeper into his chest.

Adam won’t hesitate to jump in if somebody says something, because only HE can do that.

“You talk too much, you need to calm down, it’s not that serious.” An angel said, while at a meeting, your shoulders dropped before you heard your boyfriend pipe up,

“And? Who gives a fuck? It’s fucking Heaven, bitch. People are allowed to talk and be happy, damn bruh, you’re a fucking party pooper!”

Lucifer

He has his own tendencies to go on endless rants here and there so honestly you both just talk nonstop, and he doesn’t mind a bit!

If someone were to say something to you, he’d have a reaction similar to his reaction with the Charlie-Adam fight, but more tame cause the person didn’t physically harm you

“Stop talking and let me finish!” Alastor said cheerfully with a grin as he went to continue his sentence.

“You don’t get to talk to my partner that way, you smiling freak.” Luci said with a forced grin between gritted teeth, turning his focus away from the conversation with his daughter and her girlfriend and putting it to the conversation between you and Alastor.

“I’m the smiling freak? Look at you! You’re face is all messed up, especially that god-awful smile.” Alastor remarked, poking the bear that was the very protective Lucifer Morningstar, both when it came to his daughter and his partner.

“OKAY!” Charlie said attempting to separate the two, with Vaggie rushing to her aid.

Yeah, if they weren’t stopped, that wouldn’t have ended well😀

Vox

He doesn’t mind your talks, he’s a good listener, but he might not catch everything if he’s working, but if he’s not? He’s all ears.

He’ll act super nonchalant about it, but he thinks it’s the cutest thing.

Normally, he isn’t willing to cause a scene because of his status, but when someone insults the thing he loves most about his partner? Yeah, that shit isn’t flying with him around.

You were scrolling through the comments of the most recent interview that Vox had on his show, which happened to be with you, and you couldn’t bare what you were reading. Mainly the comments like: ‘Omfg Vox’s partner doesn’t stop talking’ or ‘Vox can do better’ or ‘Can they just shut the fuck up? Like bro it’s not that hard.’

You just shut your phone off and slammed it onto the night stand, as tears trickled down your face, all you wanted was to be enough for him, if these people think these things, he probably would to.

You hear someone enter your shared bedroom, with you curled up in blankets and sniffles coming out of you, you feel the bed dip next to you, and a robotic voice that has to belong to Vox ask, “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“People are just mean…” You mumbled, turning on your other side to face him and picking up your phone and handing it to Vox, you watched Vox scroll for a moment, watching his eye twitch angrily.

“I will handle it, sweetheart. I’ll be right back, don’t you worry your precious mind about a thing.” Vox said, stroking your hair, as he got up and left the room.

Turns out, Vox did a bit of…digging. He got the contact information of the main commenter who gave you issues, and sent them, a little surprise video…

The video showed Vox in office chair, he got straight to the point immediately, banging his fist onto his desk. “Listen here, you little bitch.” He growled, he was glitching out of anger already, damn.

“You don’t get to talk about my partner that way.” Vox stated, waving his pointer finger at the camera, “And if you do?” Vox asked rhetorically, giving a fake grin, before he became more visibly angry then you’ve ever seen him.

“I will personally find you myself, you low-life, fucking loser, and I will tear you apart. Just because your a sad sad, 40 year old virgin man, who still lives with mommy and daddy rent-free and plays on your VoxBox all day, doesn’t mean you get to insult my partner, and you should know better to not EVER pull that shit again, and if you even think about trying to I’ll fly drowns all throughout Hell and make sure they fucking find you and rip you apart, you hear me?”

His anger falters as the glitch does in his voice, “Anyway, have a lovely day, and don’t fuck with my partner again.” He said with his usual show grin as the screen went black immediately.

Yeah, don’t expect him to do that often.

[thrashkink-coven]

Okay here’s the hard part.

I think a lot about that guy, so called Jesus, and his philosophy of radical forgiveness and empathy. For a long time I thought that was just a line abusers use to force their victims to forgive them (AND IT IS)

But! I also think about Lucifer and the things he taught me regarding the concept of hell. If I was the ruler of hell and I had to manage all these terrible people, what would I do? Torture them? Give them endless suffering so they feel guilty? Do to them what they did to others so they can understand how bad it feels?

Latinos who voted for Trump, oh you disappoint me, but no, I don’t want you to be deported. Women who voted for Trump, *sigh*, no, I don’t want to see you get an ectopic pregnancy or carry your dead baby. No I do not want all those conservative gays to lose their right to marriage. And no, I don’t even want all of those fucked up fascist nazi racists to die.

It would be SO satisfying to see them get what they deserve, right?

God, I’m so sick of being apart of a species that loves to conquer. We bleed, they win, they bleed, we win. I’m sick of patching wounds. All I see is hellfire.

My friend Taylor Mcnallie is facing fraudulent charges because of an altercation that happened while she was protesting in Calgary. The bitch of a cop who assaulted her not only received no punishment, she got a fucking promotion. I remember during one of Taylor’s speeches someone said something like “I hope she gets arrested and goes to jail,” and Taylor said, “I don’t hope she goes to jail. Jail shouldn’t exist. I just want her to get fired and apologize. That’s all I want.”

Pacifism, true pacifism, like the kind that guy preached about, doesn’t mean laying down and accepting every terrible thing assholes do to you with a smile. It means taking away their ability to harm without harming them yourself. Eliminating the evil without becoming evil. Punching nazis does not make you a nazi, but praying for the death and destruction of people, human beings, because you hate them as much as they hate you? *sigh*

The hardest part about this whole radical empathy thing, is the fact that I cannot even wish harm upon those who want me dead. Isn’t that funny? That literal neo nazi, yeah, I hope he has shelter. Fuck I hope that rapist still eats tonight. I hope he feels shame until the day he dies, but I don’t hope he gets raped in prison. I don’t even want him in prison to be honest, I want him to be cared for, and I want his ability to do harm stripped away.

“Even if he hurts a child?”

God damn it, yes. I can’t add more suffering into the world, even if it is inflicted upon the people I’d love to hate most. I want to take away his power to do evil, I want everyone to know what kind of person he is and the terrible things he does so they can keep themselves safe… and then I want him to be safe.

I want all those terfs to have clean drinking water. I know they hate my guts, ugh, it is what it is. But praying that they experience the pain they’ve caused me, hoping that they die or suffer only makes me more like them.

WHICH SUCKS. This way of thinking is NOT satisfying AT ALL!!! Being vindictive and petty is FUN and it FEELS GOOD!!! That’s why it’s so fucking easy, and that’s why we keep eating each other over and over again.

Having said all of this, we should definitely bring back the guillotine lmao. I’m not saying that we should be super nice to people who are trying to kill us, do fight back. If the people need to kill their oppressors to be free then, hey, I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong for that. This isn’t a “we should all hug and sing kumbaya together! Kindness is always the way!!!” take. If the only way to bring death to the empire is to bring death to its owners, then so be it. Do so in the way that produces the least amount of degradation to your soul.

But wishing natural disasters on Texas, hoping that that racist woman’s parents get deported, out of spite and hatred… what are they doing to you? What are you doing to yourself?

Humanity is disgusting, truly truly abhorrent. I want to be able to look at us and embrace us with acceptance of that. Every single fucking terrible person on this earth deserves liberty, life, and freedom. Even when you spit in my face and hurt the people I love, damn it, I won’t hurt you. I see you as a rabid animal that needs to be sedated and slowly acclimated to compassion. And I will keep trying, even if you never learn. I can’t give up on humanity.

This is the most important and the hardest part. I’m not telling you to forgive, forgiveness is for you. If it doesn’t serve you, don’t forgive. But don’t let people without humanity kill the humanity that exists within you. Don’t let hatred fester in your soul. You’re allowed to be mad, hell, you should be furious. Let that fury keep you warm, but do not become a monster too.

To all you stupid fucking fascist pieces of shit, I hope you get exactly what you deserve. And what you deserve is not death, pain or suffering. It’s self reflection and growth, guilt and humility. As much as I would enjoy seeing you hurt, I refuse to become like you. And damn it I love you, I love every human being on this planet. I love you so much that I cannot become you. I love you so fucking much that I will continue to fight for your rights even when you’re trying to take mine away. and I hate that I love you like this, but I can’t stop.

So I will stop you.

- James Baldwin

[witchymadness]

ONE BED TROPE

(w/ Gwendoline Christie's Characters)

(A/N): literally wrote this for myself bcs I just can't with how hot and sweet this woman is, but I thought you guys might enjoy too! 🥹 literally Stan Gwen for a better life. Did not proof read, pls enjoy.

(also fls this image makes me just want to sin, mame)

Brienne of Tarth

-You're a princess and she's a knight.

-Classic trope.

-You were on a journey and your father, the king, sent his mightiest guard with you in your quest, whatever it may be.

-All that good shit.

-So, one day in your seemingly endless travels with Brienne, you were bound to encounter the following scenario:

-"I profusely apologize, m'lady, but there seems to be only one more room available in the inn. And it only has one bed."

-I mean, it wasn't like you had the hugest fucking crush on this gorgeous-ass fucking woman next to you--

-Right???

-FUCKING WRONG!

-So you arrive at the room and the bed was quite spacious, seemingly a bed for... Couples.

-But your internal screaming was ceased when your amazing (mountain) of a knight offered to sleep on the floor. And of course, you couldn't let her do that!

-NO.

-"Oh, it's absolutely fine, Brienne. I insist."

-"B-but m'lady--"

-'JUST CLIMB IN THE FUCKING BED ALREADY SO I CAN CLIMB YOU, DAMN IT!'

-"It's fine, Brienne. I could use the company."

-*insert internal dying pt. 2*

-You trying not to stare while she takes off her armor was a successful, yet gruesome process.

-Facing away from her in bed because you might just freeze to death if you accidentally met her icy-blue eyes.

-"(Y/N). I understand that you are not comfortable with our predicament. Cease the civilities and let me sleep on the floor, please."

- >:0

-'HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT I, FOR ONE SECOND IN MY LIFE, NEVER WANT TO BE NEXT TO YOU?!'

-"Brienne, I-- listen, it's not you that I am uncomfortable with. Well... It is you. But--"

-She let out a quiet sigh as she had started to stand, but you, frustrated and quite tired of the bullshit, grabbed her arm and caused you two to come face to face.

-This slightly took her a back, but she kept her usual composure, propping you up as you still held on tightly on to her arm.

-"Lady (L/N), what on earth are you doing?"

-"I'm not letting you leave. By god, you are as slow as you are gorgeous."

-"I don't understand, m'lady."

-"Brienne, I do wish for your company. Not just this evening, but the evenings ever since I've met you and the evenings in the many moons to come."

-*exe.brienne has stopped working*

-"I understand that I may have been a little too aggressive. But my offer still stands the same. You can have the bed. It's the least I could do for the bravest knight of Tarth."

-"(Y/N)... Are you true?"

-"With every word that I have given you. By the old gods and the new, Brienne. I mean it."

-You saw the spark in her eyes, a spark of hope and maybe... Love? So, you continued.

-"I meant every compliment I have given you, every thanks, every laugh and each of those chaste kisses on your cheek when I tend to your wounds that I wish could be longer. They're all true. I mean it when I say that my bed shall always be yours. And I'll mean it everytime that I tell you how much I love you, my Brienne."

-"I love you too, (Y/N). I always have. I'll always be by your side. I shall protect you and offer my life to you, my (Y/N). Know that in my dying breath, the memories of your smile shall put me into the deep slumber with joy."

-You cried because, whew! Did you guys just get married?

-"Let us sleep then. As I await every tomorrow that I'll spend with you."

-Move over, Will Shaxbeard!

-You woke up with Brienne holding you close and you the same. You knew instantly that that is how you wanted to spend the rest of your eternity.

Lucifer Morningstar

-Little less pure than Brienne.

-So, Lucifer abandoned their post, went down to earth and met you.

-You we're a psychic.

-Supposedly.

-Well, kind of.

-It didn't matter, because Lucifer seemed to think so, so they dragged you along to fulfill their great escape of their father's plan.

-You really did not believe them, but hey, they've got money.

-You we're visiting a demon in Las Vegas.

-Suffice to say that you've seen quite the shit that day and just wanted to get some rest. And probably a beer or two before travelling of to the dreaming.

-Lucifer didn't really like sleeping, and they usually just... Do things while you're asleep.

-They're a very busy person.

-In your slumber, you'd sometimes awaken to the Morningstar cursing under their breath, contemplating their life.

-It was a strange ass mid-life crisis.

-Besides being the Devil, you had to say that they were quite charming. Polite, infact.

-They never bothered you unless they needed to.

-No one ever saw them in their raw form of vulnerability, except you.

-Or atleast, no one ever survived to tell the tale.

-Well, that night in Vegas, you've drank MORE than a beer or two.

-Lucifer said that alcohol never really worked on them. It's a celestial being thing, you wouldn't get it.

-"Well why don't you just get some rest then, angel?"

-That nickname irritated them to no extent.

-"I told you (Y/N), I don't sleep."

-"Like... You can't? Or you just don't wanna?"

-"I--"

-*annoyed Lucy activated*

-Usually, you'd back off. But in this case, you had no control and you were face to face with the Devil, for Christ's sake. Of course you were curious.

-"You...?"

-They looked at you incredulously.

-"(Y/N), just go to bed, angel."

-They did not just say that.

-You burst out laughing. Does the devil have blood? No. Can you see clearly? Absolutely not. But are they absolutely blushing like a tomato? Yes.

-They marched to the side of your bed, demanding you to shut the fuck up but to no avail.

-Going as far as to straddle you and attempted to choke you, out of their childish frustration.

-Part of them knew they couldn't kill you as you were still an evident part of the prophecy.

-But, God they wanted you to shut up so bad.

-It's an itch that grew unbearably annoying to them, to listen to you laugh. And now, especially, that you were laughing at their misfortune.

-"(Y/N), SILENCE!"

-When you realized the position that the two of you were in, you suddenly quieted down.

-Samael was the most beautiful angel in the heavens, and still retained their features even after their fall from grace.

-As the dim yellow light shone a faux halo above them, it was bitter irony.

-Your angel.

-You pulled Lucifer down next to you, then almost successfully straddling them in the same manner they did.

-"You look so beautiful, my angel."

-You couldn't remember what happened next but when you woke up, you were on top of Lucifer, head resting on their chest.

-They were wearing their own silk pajamas and you found it adorable.

-"Good morning, my angel."

-They decided that they liked that nickname better.

Larrisa Weems

-You were a fellow teacher.

-Well, you liked thinking that you were.

-You were just an intern, or as most people like calling you, Ms. Weems' assistance.

-It didn't really bother you as much.

-It meant that you got to spend more time with the Head Mistress, who to be completely honest, you were absolutely smitten with.

-You slept in your own chambers, of course.

-But one day, something completely unfortunate happened.

-A fur just happened to burst into your room while they were morphed, through the windows.

-You were sleeping at the time, but luckily, you only had a few cuts from the window shards, thanks to your duvet.

-Larissa, being the headmaster, had to take care of the whole debacle.

-She dragged you inside her chambers and started patching up your arms and the few stray cuts littered across your face.

-Larissa did look sorta pissed, while doing so.

-"Ms. Weems, I understand that I'm intruding. I can stay with Mr. Ramirez tonight and I can patch myself up, if it's troubling you."

-You offered, as Mr. Ramirez, or Gary, as you knew him, was a friend of yours before getting into the academy. And before Principal Weems, it was him who you spent most of your time with.

-"Wouldn't Gary be fast asleep by now, (Y/N)? Although, it is you. I doubt he would refuse his own girlfriend, no?"

-Girlfriend?

-"Oh, am I imposing? Forgive me. I just see the both of you lovebirds hanging around, couldn't help but notice." she hummed.

-"Ms. Weems--"

-"Larissa, please, darling."

-Ignoring the butterflies dancing in your stomach, you responded.

-"Yes, Larissa. Gary and I are just friends."

-"Oh..."

-Her expression was unreadable, and so was her tone.

-"I suppose you haven't set your eyes on any of our staff, then?"

-"Actually, I have..."

-You let out a small wince as Larissa pressed the cotton ball a little too roughly on a wound.

-"Sorry, sorry."

-Soon after she was finished bandaging up your cuts, she offered to walk you to Gary's room.

-But then you heard loud snoring and after a few more countless attempts to call the man, you gave up.

-"(Y/N), this is getting a tad ridiculous. I wouldn't mind you spending a night in my chambers instead."

-Ignoring the underlying meaning that the statement had, and you wished she meant, you agreed.

-The walk back to her chambers was a quiet one.

-"Thank you, M-- Larissa. Goodnight."

-Without thinking, you placed a soft kiss to her cheek.

-Larissa was left dumbfounded, while sleepiness visited you as soon as your head found the pillow.

-"Goodnight then, (Y/N)."

-She reminded herself to ask you in the morning on who was the staff member you liked.

-Waking up was a surprise, as you found that Larissa's hand had snaked it's way to your waist, while you had your hand on top of hers, keeping in in place.

-That's how Enid pays her 'Thing' Massages.

[defiantdreemurrs]

after finally watching madoka movie 3 i am 100% convinced the internet hates homura because they misunderstood her completely

the only crime you could ever pin on her is that she considers herself lesser than madoka and therefore is convinced she has to sacrifice herself so madoka can be happy

the same crime madoka herself is guilty of

both of these girls feel so much love for each other and yet they also feel so little for themselves, both of these girls are convinced the only way they can make each other happy is if they accept an eternity of suffering, and both of these girls practically leap at the chance to suffer for eternity if it makes their beloved happy

the only thing homura ever did wrong was to not love herself, and i honestly cant fault her for anything else as a result

the things she did for madoka are expressions of how much she loved madoka, as well as how little she loved herself, and i cant help but relate as someone who is so deeply filled with self loathing yet so madly in love that i would gladly sacrifice myself for her

homura isnt a villain, shes not evil, she willingly damned herself and occupied the role of the dissenter, the rebel, lucifer morningstar, solely so madoka could be happy in a world where her family was safe, she and her friends didnt have to fight witches, and homura could still be with her

which is something madoka herself did too, shes only doing what madoka did, but because she accepted her role as the devil to madokas god everyone sees her as pure evil and thats the whole POINT of the god vs devil imagery in the movie is to comment on how what we see as “good” and “evil” are so heavily dependent on framing and aesthetic and how those things can make two girls doing the exact same thing appear to be completely in opposition

the point of madoka isnt that homura is evil or that she shouldnt be so obsessed with madoka or that shes wrong for loving madoka as much as she does, the point of madoka is that you should love yourself and subjecting yourself to endless self sacrifice because you think so little of yourself is only going to hurt those you love and possibly to the point of locking you into a neverending cycle of self sacrifice in opposition to your beloveds own self sacrifice

the only thing homura ever did wrong was to not love herself as much as she loved madoka, because she certainly deserves to

(in other words, in case you misunderstood me: homura did basically nothing wrong and all her actions in movie 3 are justified she just kinda needs to love herself and i theorize movie 4 to resolve things essentially by having madoka show her that neither of them has to be so self sacrificing because its so very clear that this is the only thing she ever does wrong and that madoka has also been doing the exact same thing and that both are at fault and they just kinda need to stop escalating this endless cycle of self sacrifice, and one more time explicitly homura did nothing fucking wrong and becoming the devil to lift the weight of the world off of her beloveds shoulders is both a deep expression of love for madoka and a show of how little she loves herself)

[superbattrash]

So uh. The forth episode um. Honestly it gave me emotional whiplash

Sandy ep4

Okay now you’re just trying to make everything sound creepy to freak out Matty. Leave the poor birb alone, sandy

Oh jeez, how long has it been since this guy’s been out of jail?? I feel sorry for him because he’s so pathetic and polite but I just know he’s gonna fuck shit up

Protocols, right, cool, but did you just call yourself a king?? Kings, gods, endless… many names for you little sandy

Well that’s just creepy, what’s Voldemort doing down here?

A gong. Your door… your cave… your doorbell is a gong.

I wasn’t warned about this episode. Maybe I shouldn’t eat. Oh my pizza’s done!! Yum

His. His name is sq..dear god his parents must’ve hated him. He’s sort of insolent but he’s got a point - it’s not like you have any proof that you’re you, sandy

Please don’t let anything happen to the dog. Please don’t let anything happen to the dog. Don’t let anything happen to the damn dog. Or the woman okay, I like her, she’s really nice. Rosemary, yes, that’s her name, I like rosemary, leave her alone please

Oh no now he’s very much too honest. John, you’re freaking Rosemary out, please stop talking

Aw Matty, I would’ve thought the same thing, don’t worry. Omg, sandy played with an angel, didn’t he, that’s so nice. Great, it’s a trap 🙄 oh it’s not. No it is. Maybe. THIS IS CONFUSING

Now who’s this?? Oh man there is…. A lot to unpack here. Is this why you’re so pouty, sandy? You got your heart broken, you were betrayed?

Oh no, I don’t think I can watch this, I don’t want Susie or Rosemary to get hurt 🥲 Don’t do anything stupid, Rosemary, we do not want him to hurt you, okay, and he probably will, won’t he? Oh my gOD WHAT IS THIS FUCKING EPISODE John is freaking me out with his soft voice :/

Oh Matty talking in 3rd person to get the Tea 🍵😂 sandy actually answers?? Nice. I wasn’t all that far off, although “defied” is a little creepy, Morph.

Matthew’s little wobbly walk, I’m in love with this bird

Ok show me the devil, I’m ready

[caws] yeah me too Matty, me too

I see wings. I see creepy cave but I’m a Batman fan. I get it. Oh. OH!!!! OHH!!!!!! IT’S WIFEY. WIFEY IS THE DEVIL. OH HELL TO THE YEAH

oh they have a maze too? Nice, she’s creepy in a cool way

Look at how Sandy is smiling, he’s so weak for Lucifer, as am I honestly. They’re so tall 😵‍💫🥰

Oh they’re totally taunting him!!!! How very devil of you, Luci. Please tell me you’ll have tea or something later, you seem like you’d make great entertainment

Oh shit, that demon is right tho. He didn’t actually steal it, he just has it now

THAT IS NOT A GOOD DEAL, SANDY, DON’T ACCEPT THE TERMS

He’s choosing Lucifer, isn’t he? Of course he did, great, this is just… great

“Apologies”, my pale ass

God, Christie is just. So tall

DON’T LEAVE THE DOG WITH THE CRAZY MURDERER ROSEMARY WE CANT TRUST HIM but ugh he’s so!!? Stupidly weirdly nice but like. Not. Ya know what I mean??

OH GOD NO THIS WILL GO ALL WRONG, THE POLICE WILL DIE IF THEY TRY TO STOP HIM AAAAAA DON’T LET HER LEAVE WITH HIM WAIT NO DON’T SHOOT HIM!!!!!!!!

I really wanna trust his word here but there’s a dog in the car, man, don’t- oh okay back to Hell, for the love of god, this is. A lot

Matty wants to stay!!! Oh he’s so loyal and he barely even knows sandy 🥺✨ wait are they gonna fight fight? Or do some weird magic dance fight?

What. What is happening? What the fuh

Oh okay well that’s both creepy and weird but I guess it suits the vibes. Reminds me of madam Mim fighting Merlin tho just yaknow fyi

Great, he’s on fire

Be a dream or whatever, come on, think of something, you’re dying over here

YEAH LISTEN TO MATTHEW HE’S SAYING WHAT I’M SAYING, LISTEN TO MATTY

“I am Dream”, come on, you can do it

Oh. Hope. That works too I guess

Lucifer gave you an order you crazy demon, how stupid are you??

You better say thank you, that’s good, you should be polite, even in Hell. Hm, this is like the battle of the two most polite weirdos

Oh you almost made them cry, sandy, what the fuck

They’re. They’re not friends? I thought they’d be like. Teasing, taunting friends. That is so not it, okay, my bad, I didn’t read that right

That is such a motorcycle jacket

Matthew asking the real questions, because yeah, he looks like a weird kind of ant in that thing

Are you there before John??? Oh okay, I didn’t think you’d get there first

Oh FUCK OUCH never mind then

You can GO, Rosemary, drive AWAY, COME ON

How do you even alter a ruby, least of all Dream’s ruby?? I’m not trying to be mean but that sounds a little weird

Even John doesn’t get why you haven’t driven off yet WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE???? He’s. He’s?? Giving her the??? The thing??? This is. This is so confusing but yay Rosemary and Susie both survive

[dothwrites]

15.19--freedom

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose/Nothing, don’t mean nothing if it ain’t free, no, no”--Janis Joplin

---

Freedom. 

Dean rolls the word around on the tip of his tongue and tastes how it feels. Freedom. 

It’s a strange concept, especially since he always assumed that he was. Ever since Apocalypse Version 1.0 was averted, Michael and Lucifer locked in the cage, thanks very much, he’s always assumed that he was the one calling the shots. No matter how badly he fucked up (and he fucked up a lot), he could at least take comfort in the fact that those were his choices. No one’s hand up Dean Winchester’s ass, no siree. 

And then Chuck came and ripped that certainty away from him in one quick motion and then...everything was suspect. Sam, Mom, Jack...Cas. Every word, every action, every emotion... He couldn’t trust anything, so he trusted nothing.

He still wakes up from nightmares with those words echoing in his head: You’re dead to me. He bolts upright, almost puking, because he can’t believe his past self, he can’t believe that those words came out of his mouth, to Cas, to Cas of all people--

He splashes water on his face and notices that his hand is shaking. His stomach churns in warning, but he doesn’t think he’s going to puke. However, he also doesn’t think he’s going back to sleep tonight. 

He and Sam are in the bunker, but he knows they won’t stay. It’s too empty now, their voices echoing through the halls and rooms. Maybe once, he would have been all right with that, would have even enjoyed it, but now, he can’t bear it. He remembers all too well how it felt to have Jack’s voice bouncing through the kitchen as he talked about the latest movie they had watched, or how it felt to just feel Cas behind him as he moved through the kitchen. 

Every time he makes his breakfast, he’s reminded of what he lost. Every time he and Sam come back to the bunker, there’s the sinking disappointment to find themselves alone once more. Dean ends up spending most of his days in his room because anywhere else freaks him out. He can’t stop whipping his head to look over his shoulder, halfway convinced that he’ll find someone standing behind him. He’s always disappointed when he finds himself alone. 

He and Sam are going to leave the bunker behind. He doesn’t know when and he doesn’t know what for, but he knows that it’s going to happen. 

He asks Sam one afternoon why he hasn’t left yet. Eileen is waiting for him, biding her time a hell of a lot more patiently than Dean would, and Sam still isn’t going to her and starting the American dream life. And one afternoon, Dean either runs out of fucks and gathers up his last little shreds of courage, and asks him. 

“So when are you going to move in with Eileen? I can’t imagine that she’s going to wait for your gigantor ass forever.” 

Sam looks at him from across the table. There’s a book open in front of him, but Dean doesn’t think that he’s read a word. He knows that he’s been stuck on the same screen on his phone for several minutes. Without the pressing urgency of saving the world, things just seem so...pointless. Which is not necessarily bad. But it means that he and Sam spend a lot of slow, lingering afternoons like this, with just the two of them wandering through the bunker and occasionally bouncing off of each other like two very faulty pinballs stuck in a malfunctioning machine. 

“She’s fine,” Sam says, which isn’t an answer. “She understands what’s happening.” 

Dean’s glad that someone understands because he surely has no fucking clue.

---

His life falls into a kind of routine. Wake up, make breakfast. Find pointless chores to do around the bunker. Make lunch. Watch some bullshit shows on TV. Make dinner. Have a beer. Fall asleep. 

He feels like the worst kind of retiree, devoid of purpose. 

Sure, there are occasional hunts, but he doesn’t feel the need to go on them. The world is turning, same as it always did, and there are other hunters in the world. If that’s one thing that he learned through these past years, it’s that he doesn’t have to do everything. 

(Plus, he and Sam literally defeated God, so he thinks they deserve some time off.)

The forced retirement doesn’t make him happy. The bunker is the cleanest that it’s ever been and he doesn’t feel happy about it. There’s a gaping hole in his chest that’s shaped like the rest of his family, and he can’t sleep at night. He makes dinner and all he can think about are the empty places at the table. 

Sam sticks his head into Dean’s room. It’s a regular day, though Dean doesn’t bother to note either the actual date or the day of the week anymore. Time blends together in an endless cycle of waking, chores, and sleeping, because without a purpose to hold him together, he’s slowly falling apart. 

“I’m going to head out,” Sam says. Dean notices that he doesn’t put a timeline on his departure. “You should get out too.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows but doesn’t ask the obvious question: Where would he go? Sam, slightly chagrined, scuffs his feet against the floor. “Maybe go see Jody, Donna, and the girls? See if Charlie and Stevie want a third on their hunt? Bobby said something about building up his library here.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, with absolutely no intention of following through on any of those suggestions. He’s not quite wallowing in his own grief and filth (every time he tries to crawl back into a bottle, he just remembers the pinched look at the corners of Cas’ eyes whenever he would find Dean halfway through a bender, and that memory effectively nixes any desire he might have had to crawl into the nearest bottle), but he’s not exactly the poster boy for healthy coping strategies either. 

“Dean.” 

Dean hates that note in Sam’s voice, the oh-so-soft and sensitive tone that could soothe widows and lull children. He hates even more that it’s being turned on him, hates most of all that he derives comfort from it. 

“I don’t get it,” Dean finally says, because if Sam is leaving then he might be losing his chance to ask his question aloud. “I don’t get...I mean, Jack could have brought him back. He could have done it. I could have asked him. I was right fucking there, and I didn’t ask.” 

He’s dissected those moments in his head until there’s nothing left, and he’s forced to cobble them back together like some Frankenstein of memories just so he can take them apart all over again. Why didn’t he ask Jack to bring Cas back? Why didn’t Jack do it of his own free will? Jack knew how he much he needed Cas; hell, Jack brought him back once before when he wasn’t God. So why couldn’t he do it then, when Dean needed him the most? 

“I don’t know,” Sam says, still in that same soft voice. “Maybe...maybe it was like Mom? I mean, Cas made his choice. For better or worse, he made it, and maybe Jack thinks that we need to respect it?” 

A thick lump rises in his throat. Cas’ face replays in his nightmares, tear-stricken and yet smiling, peace and grief shining in his eyes. I love you. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to say at that moment. Like it was all he’d ever wanted to say. 

“I never...” Dean swallows, but he doesn’t manage to chase away the horrid feeling rising in his chest. “I never said it back to him, Sam. I never...all those times he said it to us, and I never...he died, thinking that no one loved him. The one thing I want, I know I can’t have, is what he said to me.” 

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a list of his regrets (there are too many to really list), but if he did, then he knows this would be at the top of it. Cas sacrificed himself, Cas let himself get taken, Cas died, and all to save someone who he believed didn’t love him back. 

How could he not know? 

Dean knows he’s not necessarily Mr. Subtle; he knows Sam knows. Their enemies damn sure have seemed to figure out through the years exactly where Dean’s heart lies. How could Cas, as brilliant as he was, as insightful, as compassionate as he was, not understand that Dean’s been lost on him, quite possible since the first time he walked through those barn doors? 

Sam’s face goes on a journey and it ends up at about the same place that Dean feels. Maybe now Sam understands why it’s so much effort for him to just make it out of his room. 

“He thought it was worth it,” Sam finally says. “Even if he thought...At the end, it was still worth it to him.” 

You were still worth it, is left unsaid, but Dean hears the echo nonetheless. There’s an accusation there which he doesn’t want to confront, but he has to nonetheless. 

“I can’t stay here anymore,” Sam finally says. “I can’t...” When he looks at Dean, his eyes are glistening. There’s a plea for understanding in his face. “There’s a whole world out there that I haven’t gotten to see since...since Stanford really. Since ever. I can finally go out there and walk around and not worry that something’s going to come after me. I can finally...” Sam rubs a corner of his shirt between his fingers. “You always said that I wanted a normal life, and I did, for a while. Then, when I figured that it was never going to happen, I stopped myself from wanting it, because what was the point? When everything we had got ripped away from us, what was the point of anything? But now...” 

“If you start now, then you can probably make Des Moines by night,” Dean offers. It’s all he can say, but it’s enough. 

Sam smiles, his eyes glassy. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

It’s not a goodbye, but it is. It’s the bonds of desperation and codependency snapping and shattering and reforming into something else. Dean doesn’t know how to love his brother in this new world. All he knows is that Sam deserves to live the life he’s deserved. 

Dean closes his eyes. 

When he opens them, Sam is gone.

---

That night, he goes up on the roof of the bunker. It’s cold, but not unbearable. There’s a light drizzle falling which strengthens to a gentle shower the longer he stays outside. 

Dean closes his eyes and looks up at the sky. Out here, the stars shine clearer than ever before, visible even through the rainclouds. 

He can’t help but think of Jack. His son. He can say those words now, acknowledge that Jack gave him everything he really wanted; the chance at a family, the chance to erase some of his father’s sins. Jack was gentle, he was kind, he was loving, he was theirs. And then he was gone. 

Cas, Jack, Sam...

“What am I supposed to do?” Dean asks the rain, the same wild pain rising up in his throat. “What am I supposed to do now?” 

---

He makes it back inside, damp and cold, and strips himself. He should shower, but he can’t be bothered, so he falls into bed naked and shivering. Not like it matters; no one is around to see him anyway. He falls into a fitful doze and is only awakened hours later by the soft sounds of someone moving around his room. 

He bolts upright, snatching his gun out from underneath his pillow, because old habits die never. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as his heartbeat catches up with his adrenaline. “Sam?” he asks, and then, more tentatively, “Jack?” 

His desk lamp blazes into the life with a soft snap. Dean’s heart leaps into his throat. 

Cas smiles at him, the same as always, sadness always lurking in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Dean finally understands why he looks that way. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. The sound of his voice sends shivers down Dean’s spine, but the hair on his arms doesn’t rise. Dean understands then. 

“This is a dream.” He lowers the gun. His heart slows to normal and disappointment is bitter in his mouth. “You’re not really here.” 

Cas’ mouth lifts in a lopsided smile. “It’s as real as you make it.” 

“Don’t fucking Dumbledore me,” Dean mutters. He rubs at his temples. Somehow, even lucid dreaming has lost its appeal. Talking to Cas isn’t appealing when he knows that he’s just talking to his own subconscious. 

“I fail to see what a fictional wizard of questionable sexuality has to do with this.” 

“Good to know that my subconscious has your sense of humor down.” Dean glares at Cas. “Why the fuck are you here, anyway? It’s a dick move, even for my brain.” 

“Maybe because I’m the person you want to see? I don’t know. It’s your head, not mine.”

“Yeah. No offense, but I think I’m just going to go back to sleep. Or wake up. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I don’t need to see you anymore. It’s just...It really hurts, all right?” 

“I’m not real, so you’re not really hurting my feelings.” 

“Good. Well, now that we have that sorted out.” Dean punches his pillow as a punishment for betraying him, before he turns back to Cas. “I miss you,” he says, because he’s weak and always has been. 

“Dean.” The sound of Cas’ voice always manages to make Dean stop and now is no different. He turns around and looks at Cas. 

Somehow, Cas looks more solid around the edges. The lines around his eyes are more pronounced, and if Dean turns his head at just the right angle, he thinks he can see grey silvering at Cas’ temple. 

“Sam was right,” Cas says. “I made a choice. That’s what this was all about, ever since the beginning. Making choices, running our own course, picking our own path.” 

“Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in,” Dean mutters. The last thing he needs is his subconscious reminding him that once again, Cas decided that he wasn’t good enough to stay with. 

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t make a choice as well,” Cas continues, ignoring him. “There’s nothing to stop you. You can make whatever choices you want and take the consequences that come with them. And if you make the right choices, then maybe...” Cas bites his lip, looking almost nervous. “Then maybe I can make some choices too.” 

Dean opens his mouth to argue--Cas is dead, the time for making decisions has come and gone--but his subconscious is a dick, and before he can say anything, his dream fades away in a wash of black. 

---

Dean wakes up energized. His eyes open into the same room, but it’s different somehow. It’s ridiculous, because the bunker is underground, but it’s almost like he sees the sun shining through his windows. Even the air tastes different. For the first time in weeks, he gets out of bed without dreading every step away from his mattress. 

He glances at his phone. There’s a message from Sam along with a picture. In it, Eileen and Sam smile at the camera, their heads pressed together at the temple. There’s still a shadow of sadness in their eyes--they’ve all lost too much to be truly carefree ever again--but they look good. Happy. Whole. 

Cas’ words echo back at him, both from the dream and from those last, horrible, terrifying moments. 

Everything you did, you did for love. 

You can make a choice. 

Dean starts towards the library. 

---

It takes him three weeks of almost non-stop research to cobble together enough spells to make something that has the potential to work. This isn’t his strength; Sam is much more suited for this type of work, but he won’t bring Sam in on this. If this thing goes really damn badly, then it has the potential to wipe him off the face of the earth, goodbye Dean Winchester. If this thing does what he’s halfway expecting it to, which is nothing, then he’ll have gotten Sam’s hopes up for nothing. He’s not going to expose Sam to either danger or disappointment, not when Sam’s finally managed to get to some kind of happiness. 

If everything goes well...

Dean won’t let himself think about that. 

He spends two days smoothing out the kinks in the spell, double and triple checking his translations. He gathers his ingredients, and then spends another hour pacing around the library. His stomach is roiling, and his nerves are jittery. He can’t bear to stop, but he can’t bear to move forward. 

The memory of Cas’ smile spurs him into action. Cas went to his death a willing martyr for a man who he believed didn’t love him back. He can’t let that stand. If anything else, Cas has to know. 

The drive to Pontiac, Illinois takes him the better part of a day. The impala springs forward across the asphalt, almost like she’s eager to eat up the miles after her forced retirement. Dean pushes hard down on the gas pedal, urging her forward. One way or another, this is going to come to an end tonight. 

It takes him a while to find the barn. The last time he was here, he wasn’t in his right mind, still reeling from the horrors of Hell and the confusion of finding himself alive. He’d been scared and angry, lost and so very alone. And then an angel had walked through the door and told him that good things happened, that he deserved to be saved. The last little bit might have been a line fed to Cas by a bunch of dickhead superiors, but the sentiment behind it had stayed long after those superiors were all dead. 

They replaced the doors which Cas shattered and painted over the walls which Dean and Bobby covered with sigils, but if Dean looks carefully, he can see the shadows of them behind the new coat of whitewash. He touches them gently for a second, remembering Bobby and all of the years which led him back to this place. Then he pulls out his can of spray paint and proceeds to deface the barn all over again. 

When he’s done, he sets up the ingredients on the table. The table is where it was all those years ago, facing the doors to the barn. He doesn’t quite believe that Cas is going to pull the same trick, storming through the doors in a shower of sparks, but he can always hope. 

“God...Jack,” Dean corrects himself with a wry twist of his mouth, “I really hope this works. Cas, wherever you are, I really hope you have your ears on.” 

Dean looks at his translations and begins to speak. He’s hoping that intention counts for something as his tongue stumbles over the unfamiliar words. His heart beats an uncertain pulse in his chest. This has to work. It has to work. 

He puts every ounce of belief into his voice, every bit of the faith Cas once accused him of not having. I have faith, he thinks, putting force behind his voice, sending his words rocketing into the dimensions. I believe in us. 

What’s real? 

We are.

The last syllables roll over his tongue, followed immediately by a peal of thunder. The barn shivers, a ripple rolling through the air to settle over Dean’s skin. Electricity crackles in the air, filling him with potential. 

“Castiel?” he calls to the darkness. “Cas?” 

There’s no answer, but the spells and research had been unclear on whether or not there should be an answer. He would prefer knowing that Cas was listening, but in absence of certainty, he’ll have to have faith. 

“Cas, I really hope you can hear me,” he says. The words bring back the memories of Purgatory and a time when he and Cas could barely look at each other. He pushes those memories away and concentrates on the truth he can feel in his heart, the same truth which has guided him through the years and all the way from Lebanon, Kansas to the small barn where it all began all those years ago. 

“I know you made your choice. I know you were happy. But...it’s not the same without you. I’m not the same without you. I wake up and think about you, and you’re the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night. Every moment, you’re there because you’re not there. I look at all the places you’re missing and I can’t help but think that everything would be better if you were there.”

Dean swallows. “I miss you,” he confesses to the night. “Cas, I miss you so much. And I want you to come back. Not because I need you or because there’s something to fight against, but just because I miss you and life is better when you’re around.” He thinks of what Sam told him before he went. “There’s a new world out there, and I can’t think of who I would rather explore it with than you, but in order to do that, you’ve got to make a choice, all right?” 

His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode out of his chest. “I want to share my life with you. I want to figure out this world together. I want to be able to look at you and hold you and experience everything with you. Cas, I want to tell you what I should have told you every single day for years. I’m sorry that I never told you while you were with me. And I’m sorry that the first time I say it, I’m not going to be looking at you, but it wouldn’t be our lives if something about this wasn’t shitty, right?” 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I love you, Cas. Not because of what you can do or how useful you are. I love you because of who you are and how hard you try. And I want to say it to you, every single day, for years to come. I’ve made my choice, Cas. Now you just need to make yours.” 

Silence overtakes the barn. The only sound is the faint whistling of the wind through the slats of the barn and the quick rasp of his breathing. There’s no flap of wings, no deep voice growling in his ears, no pop of electricity. 

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispers, closing his eyes to try and stop the burning behind them. “Please.” 

Thunder rolls through the barn, shaking through the wood down to the dirt floor. Dean’s head jerks upright as he scans the barn. “Cas?” he calls, hardly daring to hope. “Castiel?” 

A thin, golden thread rips open in the air before him. It looks almost exactly like the rifts between worlds which Jack used to create, but that’s not possible. 

It’s not possible, but Dean dares to hope anyway. 

“Castiel? Cas?” 

A single hand reaches out through the golden tear, and then Dean is moving, he’s practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the rift. “Cas, Cas, please,” he’s saying, not quite aware of the words which are tumbling from his mouth. “Please.” 

Until his fingers grip the hand, he’s not sure that it’s real, but that’s solid flesh and bone underneath his palm. Dean pulls, feeling resistance on the other end. “No,” he grunts, reaching into the rift. His hand touches skin, and his resolve grows. He didn’t come this far only to lose. They haven’t come this far only to fall apart. 

“I want you,” he says, as though the force of his words can rip through the veil. “Cas, please, come home, Cas, please--” 

With an almighty heave, he pulls once more and then he’s falling backward, another body tumbling against his in an ungainly pile of limbs and bodies. There’s skin and there’s warm, and there’s weight. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees the rift close up, as neatly as if it were never there at all. 

He doesn’t care about that. He can’t, not now. 

Dean looks down at the body sprawled across his lap. There are miles upon miles of naked skin for him to peruse, and he hopes that he’ll be able to do so later at his leisure, but for now, all he can concentrate on are those two luminous eyes blinking up at him. 

“Cas?” Dean asks, hardly daring to believe. His hands cup Castiel’s face, fingers sweeping a few locks of dark hair off of his forehead. 

Castiel blinks at him, his dark eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. A slow smile creeps across his face, like the dawn spreading across the horizon. “Dean,” he says, his voice the same as it always was, but this time it’s better, because it’s a voice that Dean never thought he’d hear again. 

“Cas.” It’s the only word Dean seems capable of saying, but words don’t seem important anymore, not when he can lean forward and press his lips to Cas’, not when he can taste the small sigh of surprise on Cas’ lips. “Cas, I missed you so much, oh god, Cas, there’s so much I want to tell you, there’s so much I want to do--” 

Cas interrupts him with another kiss, his arms threading around Dean’s shoulders to pull him closer. Gentle fingers tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and Dean thinks that he could live in this moment forever. 

But before he does that, there’s something else which needs to happen first. Dean pulls away, ignoring the small whine of protest from Cas. 

“Cas, there’s something I need to tell you,” he starts, only to be interrupted. 

“I know,” Cas says, his face splitting into a wide, gummy smile. No shadow lurks behind his eyes, no hint of tears glisten in his eyes. There’s just happiness, radiant and absolute, gleaming from his face. 

“I heard your prayer.” 

Maybe once upon a time, Dean would have been satisfied with that answer, but not anymore. 

“I love you,” Dean whispers, pressing the words into Cas’ skin with gentle kisses over his temple and cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you, and I’m going to tell you every day until you get sick of it.” 

“You’ll have to try for a very long time,” Castiel answers, his fingers tracing along Dean’s jaw. “I like hearing those words very much.” 

Dean can’t help but kiss him again. As he does so, he feels the lost and scattered pieces of his heart knitting back together until he can finally breathe for the first time in months. “Come on,” he says, once he surfaces for air. “Let’s go.” 

It only hits him then that Cas is naked. Apparently rebirth and snagging people out of alternate dimensions results in a distinct lack of clothing. Dean’s eyes want to travel over the skin revealed to him, but he waits. There will be time, he realizes with a tiny thrill of delight. He and Cas have all the time in the world.

He manages to find a blanket to wrap around Cas’ shoulders. It will do until they get out to the car where he has a spare set of clothes. For now, he helps Cas to his feet. Cas looks around him, his eyes wide and huge, as though he’s overwhelmed with the world around him. 

“Where are we headed?” Cas asks as they head towards the door. The Impala waits outside, beckoning them forward once more. 

Dean grins as the cool night air washes over them. It’s gentle and soft, eternity held in the breeze. There’s a world held within the palm of tonight, a world held within the rest of their lives. 

“Wherever we want,” he answers, stepping out of the shadow of the barn and into the world. 

As they walk towards the Impala, a light rain begins to fall. 

---

“Before, I wanted to say: "I found love!" But now, I want to say: "I found a person. And he belongs to me and I belong to him.”― C. JoyBell C.

[ultraimaginez]

My Love Is Not A Joke - [Mammon x Reader]

Fandom: Obey Me! Ship: Mammon x gn! reader Word Count: 1.9k Rating: T A/N: just thinkin about the amount of effort it would take to convince mammon you actually like him and you’re not just being an ass to him like everyone else made me feel a lot of thiiiings and then this was born lol.

Mammon lives in a liminal space between fear and a love so fierce it threatens to consume him. It’s a hell of his own making-- too cowardly to tell you how he really feels and too devoted to let you go. 

And so you are forced to exist in this hellish space with him. Each time you try to get close he pushes you away, afraid he’ll be the butt of just another joke. Each time you try to give him space he pulls you back in, terrified you might leave him. It’s an exhausting game of tug of war between his ego and his heart and, frankly, you’re sick of being the god damn rope.

Eventually you reach your breaking point. 

You are lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying another days worth of back and forths between you and a certain white haired demon boy. This has become as much a part of your night time routine as putting on pajamas or brushing your teeth. Every flush of his cheeks-- be it in anger or embarrassment or affection-- every dumb argument, or sweet sentiment, or stupid joke. They all play like a never ending feedback loop in your mind. But tonight a thought strikes you as you roll over to finally try and get some sleep-- as long as Mammon is engaged in this endless war against himself you’ll be stuck in it right along side him. He’s never going to give himself peace. He’ll fight until there’s nothing left of himself. So if the two of you are going to get out of this mess it comes down to you.

It’s a scary thought, the idea you might have to be vulnerable and make the first actual move. Scary enough that you try and let it go. Maybe you can just sleep on it and think about it more in the morning.

But now you can’t think of anything else. The thought begins to ruminate in your brain and there’s no way you can sleep at this point. You stay awake all night wondering if there’s any other solution. Any other way out of this mess. It turns out you also exist in the liminal space between fear and love. The idea of telling Mammon how you feel is paralyzing. And so you go to school the next day not having slept at all.

This pattern continues for nearly a week. Each night you stare at your ceiling going round and round in circles. And maybe Mammon can take this awful tug of war but you certainly can’t. You don’t have millennia to stay away pondering this shit. You’re a mortal and you’re being driven in-fucking-sane. So finally, on the seventh night of nearly no god damn sleep, you fling off your covers and irritably begin stomping down the hall. 

You ignore Beel who is hip deep inside the refrigerator cleaning it out of whatever the hell is left inside. You passively wave to Levi when he sticks his head out of his room to ask you to play games and mumble some lame excuse. You’re on a mission to resolve this once and for all and nothing will stop you.

You make a beeline to your destination and once you reach Mammon’s door you begin to pound on it aggressively. 

A familiar voice rings out from inside. “Jeez, cool it, Lucifer. I told you, I’m working on it. I’ll have all these late assignments done by tomorrow just gimme some time.”

“It’s me.”

There’s a pause and you can’t practically hear the gears turning in Mammon’s head as he registers who is speaking.

“Oh well why the hell didn’t ya just say so? Come in.”

You open the door to his room and find Mammon sprawled out in one of the arm chairs in the center of his room. His feet are propped up on the table and his leather jacket is flung over the couch opposite of him, leaving him in his normal jeans and black shirt. You can tell he’s been running his fingers through his white hair in frustration as it’s mused and messier than normal and his brows are knit in concentration as he looks down at his notebooks. 

“Stupid Lucifer. Makin’ me do all this damn work in one night. It’s not fair.” He says, tossing the books onto the table as you shut the door behind you and approach him. 

You have a rebuttal about how it’s not exactly ‘unfair’ since all of that work had been assigned weeks ago, but it dies on your lips when he looks up at you. You can feel you heart jump into your throat as your eyes meet, the normal façade of the student mode dropped here where he is comfortable and alone. People often attribute fastidiousness with appearance with Asmo, but Mammon is usually just as put together. Seeing him so relaxed is special, it’s something you know he reserves for only people close to him. 

Your not sure how long you stand there at the edge of his chair looking down at him but it must be longer than normal because the sound of Mammon clearing his throat pulls your attention. “Eh? Do I have something on my face? You’re staring and it’s weirding me out.” His cheeks are pink and he looks absolutely anywhere but your face. “Anyway, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Couldn’t wait to see me until tomorrow, huh?”

Well.. It’s now or never. You’ve plucked up enough courage to make it this far so you might as well commit.

“Mammon, I like you. A lot. And I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable but I just... do. So. Yeah... Do with that what you will.”

If you weren’t borderline unhinged from the complete lack of sleep and frayed nerves and being so vulnerable, you would find the way his eyes quadrupled in size fucking hilarious. 

“Wha? What do you mean? Is this some sort of dumb prank.” You can see him looking past you at the door. He’s searching for his brothers, searching for a camera, searching for the evidence that this is all some elaborate joke at his expense. You can already hear the derisive laughter he’s waiting for playing in his head. ‘Stupid, Mammon.’ ‘How could you think they would ever like you?’ ‘Got you good, huh?’ ‘Actually thought that they might like you? You’re even dumber than we thought-’

You cut off whatever string of insults he’s playing in his own hand by gently touching his face, cupping his cheek with your hand. 

“It’s not a joke, Mammon. I like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but... I need you to know that.”

It’s clear that the moment you touch his skin his internalized war rises into a crescendo. It breaks you open to see his eyes soften with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before, blue gold shimmering with an emotion you can’t quite place but sends your heart hammering harder than it ever has before... and then immediately they harden again. “Do you have a fever or something?! Jeez, leave it to a human to get sick right when I’m supposed to be doing something else. I don’t always have time to be-”

He begins to rise from the chair and it’s clear he wants to run, wants to hide, wants to lick his wounds before they can even form. You can tell he’s already written this off as another joke at his expense. If you let him get away from you right now you’ll lose that look you found in his eyes just moments ago for good.

You push down on his shoulders, seating him in the chair again, and then wordlessly climb on top of him, pinning him beneath your weight. Surely he could pick you up and yeet you across the entire god damn room if he wanted to, but the action seems to break the string of negative self talk long enough for you to actually speak to him. 

“Mammon.” You grab his face between your hands and force him to look at you. His expression is wild-- scared and hopeful and completely unguarded. “I. Like. You. And it’s not some joke. If you don’t feel the same way just tell me. But if you do-”

You don’t get to finish the rest of the sentence.

Mammon kisses you like you are oxygen and he’s on the verge of drowning. One hand shoots up to the back of your neck, pulling you close, tangling his long tanned fingers in your hair. The other comes to rest on your thigh. It’s all you can do to twine your own fingers through his soft white hair and pull him closer as he rocks into your body. You feel tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as a surge of emotion races through you. You’ve never felt so much for one person in all your life. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re being crushed under the weight of it all. 

At some point you physically can’t keep kissing him because you’re afraid you might actually suffocate. You pull back to take in a breath but he continues to hold you close, keeping his hands in your hair, lips still only inches from your own. You look at him, his eyes are more gold than blue now and you feel like you might catch fire if you look at him too long. You let out a breathy “Oh...” 

Apparently he’s decided you’ve had enough time to breath and he’s on you again, pulling you close and making desperate little noises every time you part lips even briefly. You wonder if maybe you can die from catching on fire internally because every part of you feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

Eventually you manage to part again, long enough to put a hand on his chest and keep him from chasing your lips. You’re breathing heavily, trying to suck in air but finding it hard to do so when Mammon is looking at you like he’s just waiting for the chance to devour you again. 

“So..” your voice comes out an octave higher than normal and your face turns scarlet, clearing your throat so you can try to speak somewhat normal. “Uh.. I take it... we’re on the same page then? Y’know... about... stuff...?” You’re not exactly eloquent but Mammon just kissed you to the point of ceasing brain function so, really, who can blame you? 

There’s a beat of silence, and then Mammon speaks, voice deeper, quieter, and more serious than you’ve ever heard it before. “Don’t leave, okay?” 

You’re not really sure what he’s referring to. Leave this chair? Leave the Devildom? Leave him? But he’s raw and real and so fucking perfect staring up at you perfectly kissed like that and the answer comes to you without thinking. 

“Never. I’m never leaving. I’m here for as long as you want me.” 

Suddenly both of his arms are around your waist, drawing you close. Your face is pushed into his neck and his into yours. You breathe in the smell of his aftershave and shampoo and you’ve never felt more at home. Your hearts are pressed up against one another and you know you’ve never felt more right than in this moment. 

The last thing you hear him whisper as you drift off to sleep for the first time in nearly a week is a whispered. “Always... I’m always going to want you, silly human.”

[yandere-wishes]

𝕊𝕖𝕝𝕗-𝕃𝕠𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 🐚Yandere! leviathan X Reader🐚

I’m trying out a new writing style, so please let me know what you think! This story is rather abstract and switches a bit between reader POV and Leviathan’s POV.

WARNINGS: VERY DARK, suicidal themes, self harm, mild gore, verbal abuse, self-hatred, objectification and cursing.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ, ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ: "ᴏᴘᴘᴏꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ʀᴇᴘᴇʟꜱ". ʙᴜᴛ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀɴʏ ʟᴏɢɪᴄ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʀᴇꜱᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟᴅᴏᴍ?

The two of you were the same, cut from the exact same depressing, aversion cloth. 

The two of you were mangled disjointed creatures with lanky brittle bones made up of self-loathing and mismatched hatred. Broken from displaced frustration and indecent, vulgar tendencies, that no one could snuff out of either of you. 

Instead of guts and intestines both you, the lowly human, and him, the feared sea serpent, had long strings of pity that coiled inside your stomachs.

Eyes as green as the ripest emerald blinded by endless, unchecked envy towards all things that so much as breathed.

Rotting pink brains filled with nothing but depressive thoughts and screeching banshee-like voices that never seem to cease. 

Yes, you and Leviathan were the exact same thing...

There's a certain aroma that floats and flocks around a person with such low regard for themselves. Where ever you walked a thick suffocating cloud of despair followed like a lost limping mutt. Pure unaltered self-disgust rolls off you like waves in the middle of a storm.

This is one of the things Leviathan loves about you, the intoxicating saddening aura that you wear like the finest perfumes. Although if caught like a deer in headlights, the sea serpent would just lie through his shark-like teeth and make some remarks about your pretty smile or shiny eyes. 

Truth is, he HATES when you smile. Hated when hope and joy and all things bright and good twinkle in your eyes like the flicker of a newborn star. 

Oh no, you're all so much prettier when you frown, when you look like your lust for life is all died out. When your eyes twinkle with that sort of sweet despair like all your hope has gotten engulfed by a black hole. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

There's something wrong with you. You don't know what, but it's there, you can feel it everywhere you go. 

Maybe it's the repulsive way your skin is stretched so suffocatingly thin across your bones. Or maybe it's the way you pick at your open scars, digging deeper and deeper past blazing red tissue until it starts to bleed again. 

Whatever it is you aren't sure, but something is most definitely wrong with you. 

maybe that's why, on a particularly bad, paranoid day, you finally decide to just end it. 

Although it's never that simple is it?

There's something no one ever tells you about the cessation of life. A mysterious negative hour that happens just as the last atom of oxygen is departing from your lungs. A negative one, a negative two, and if you get expressly unlucky than also a negative three. This is usually when you start to wonder if you did it right, if the rope is too loose or hung too low. The dam of reality breaks and all uncertainty pours through with no real regard for what it's destroying. Are you're really still alive? Or is this some post-mortem induced dream? Everything makes about as much sense as when you were alive, only now it's foggy and ambiguous and all so distant like a far off dream...

It's also the time when every good memory comes rushing back, spilling carelessly akin to the blood gushing from the vain you slashed a month ago. You're dying far too slowly and all too semi-lucidly.

This is far from how you thought your escape plan would go.

The plan shatters even more when you actually open your eyes again and realize that you're no longer dangling from the ceiling. Instead, you're wrapped in some sort of lukewarm blanket, trapped between glacial white walls that bite at your fingers why you try to push them away.

And staring down at you with a sort of raw envy that your human mind couldn't fabricate, was non other than the third born himself.

Up to this day you still don't know who saved you, the seven brothers treat the whole ordeal like Pandora's box, tucking it under volts of diamond and throwing the key into the abyss. As long as it stays out of sight, out of tongue's reach and ears range then it'll surely be out of mind. Everything will be just fine so long as lord Diavolo doesn't hear what happened to the precious little human. Everything is just fine if everyone ignores it.

Personally, you don't mind the outcome. You're restrained to Levi's room, being under his watch and alleged "care" for all hours of the day. It's to keep you safe Lucifer assures, although your own guilt likes to twist the words into something more like, "It's to get rid of a nuisance".

Either which way life starts to escalate just a tiny bit.

Funny how even self-loathing and inner hatred seem to fade away when there's someone to share the pain with.

Soon it's no longer "I wish I could die" or "why can't I just be God damn good enough!"

but rather "We seriously should split a suicide built" and "Wouldn't it be fun if we both dive off a cliff head first into lava?"

With someone just as aggravated and self-destructive as yourself, things start to look up...that is until you do the unforgivable, at least so it's written in Levi's demented book. 

You step too far, you start to ask things, start to pry into things that shouldn't matter to you.

And then you do it, the worst of the worst, you smile...

Straight after asking him such a revolting sincere question

"What do you think about life?" 

It's meant to be rhetorical, you TRY to make it sound rhetorical. But any social norms or form of sarcasm goes over Levi's head like the basketballs he's never able to catch. His attention snaps to you, like a snake being alerted that a predator is a near...or prey, again it's really impossible to tell.

 His neck cranes at an odd angle as his tail curls inwards. For a split millisecond, you can swear on your almost grave that you see his tongue dart out before zipping back into his toothy mouth. Predator, he definitely sees you as a predator.

"Baby, not much...I-i want to die"

Time doesn't stop, not even when all understanding and logic have tipped their hats at the door and disappeared into the great beyond. Leviathan's slit eyes stare at you, behind all the pain and broken anger, for just an instant you think you see the fragments of understanding shine, brighter than the never setting moon. 

He's just like you, 

You're just like him,

That's when the trouble creeps over. The corners of your mouth take a turn upwards and push your cheeks back, making way for a grin. It's faint and ghostly at best...up it's there.

It just has to be there....

That godforsaken satisfied smile. 

When you're attention flicker's to Levi again you notice his arm pulling back, throwing the controller across the room with anger worst than anything Satan could summon upon his worst day. 

"Don't fucking do that!"

You're stoned in place, eyes too scared to move from the sea snake, what went wrong? Why does something always go wrong?

"D-do what..?" 

It's not your fault that you're voice shakes and breaks, not your fault that the room starts to spiral out of control. It's his fault, all his fault...but is anything ever really his fault?

"Don't look happy! Or hopeful! You look so freaking ugly when you smile!"

His voice is shockingly low, like a mother trying to get her child to settle down after a tantrum. He's borderline cooing at you to "act" properly again. Never the less the venom and disgust are steel audible, glittering like a silver lining.

For once though it's not worth it to stop smiling, all the screams and yells and depravities of the world can't erase this smile from your face.

"Six thousand-year-old demon and you actually dream of death rather than eternal hell on earth or torturing the damned? You really are a broken one Leviathan."

The blue-haired sea monster just shrugs in reply before slithering closer, wrapping his slender bony arms around your waist, they feel like Thamnophis coiling around your midsection, sinking into your flesh. His heavy head falls onto your lap, you can practically hear all the outcries of jealousy and cries of purified agony. 

"What can I say...we're both two disgusting broken things that have no right to live or any claim to happiness...but well, fuck happiness who needs it...right?

Yeah, who needs a thing that only creeps into the heart under perfect circumstances and that floats away at the drop of a feather, who needs happiness and joy, when the two of you can forevermore rot in your own envy and depression....together.

Always together

Rotting forever.

"Right...screw happiness and all it's stupid worth."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

[satanisnotapogostick]

sam playlist liner notes

1. jesse got trapped in a coal mine – goodnight, texas

dean picking sam up from stanford in the pilot: jesse getting trapped in the coal mine

(he never DID marry his girl)

2. me and bobby mcgee – kris kristofferson

to me, me and bobby mcgee is about when sam runs away from dean and hangs out with meg before she outs herself as a demon

3. dorothy - mewithoutYou

“one turned into sr. Margaret, and I said "if you can change your shape that easily can you take the form of my dead father?”… then last night I was somewhere near virginia rebuking satan with ironic faithfulness. and satan turned to me: have you thought much about that cry?"

lucifer AND john themes???? yes.

4. life during wartime – talking heads

this song is sam adjusting to being a hunter and being at war, where he’ll stay for the rest of his life <3

5. this is how we do things in the country – slim cessna’s auto club

ok so this song is about sam killing madison. when you murder the girl you’re sweet on but it’s righteous and everyone thanks you for it. this is how it’s always been! this is how we do things in the country! (and also getting amy killed, a little bit, but that hasn’t happened yet. this is still early seasons)

6. clampdown – the clamp

“the voices in your head are calling. stop wasting your time, there's nothing coming, only a fool would think someone could save you… but you grow up and you calm down, and you're working for the clampdown.”

damn maybe we’re not the good guys. anyway!!

7. smith & jones forever – silver jews

smith & jones (salmondean) together!! forever!!

8. everything you did – steely dan

oh bro you slutted around with a demon and let satan out. what have you done

9. tortoises all the way down - mewithoutYou

“everybody knows, son. everybody knows what you've done!!”

just crazyass guilt song

10. up jumped the devil – nick cave

the tiger. he destroyed his cage. yes. YES. the tiger is out.

11. (ghost) riders in the sky – marty robbins

“then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride. tryin’ to catch the devil herd across these endless skies”

just s5 endless chase vibes

12. needle in the hay – elliott smith

demon blood detox time baby

13. emperor – mark lanegan

“why can’t I get right? all these demons to enslave me. who’s left to fight? oh, just the emperor.” the emperor being lucifer. obviously.

14. skating away (on the thin ice of a new day) – jethro tull

they have the horseman rings!! sam’s about to jump into the cage!! your world is about to end, but it’s okay!! you’ve done it!!

15. the passenger – iggy pop

and lol now he’s possessed by lucifer

16. the mercy seat – nick cave

okay now we’re at stull and he’s REALLY going to the gallows (jumping in)

17. when you die - MGMT

I imagine this song happening during the fall itself from stull into the cage. honestly this is a weaker entry but like. haha tfw you die

18. fifteen feet of pure white snow – nick cave

thee cage song.

“I waved to my neighbot, my neighbor waved to me. but my neighbor is my enemy. I kept waving my arms til I could not see, under fifteen feet of pure white snow. is anyone out there please? it’s too quiet in here and I’ve beginning to freeze. I’ve got icicles hanging from my knees, under fifteen feet of pure white snow”

you’ve even got icy temperature themes!

19. loverman – nick cave

yeah <3

“there’s a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer?) there’s a devil waiting outside your door and he’s bucking and braying and pawing at the floor and he’s howling with pain and crawling up the walls…. loverman!!! till the bitter end!!! while empires burn down forever and ever and ever and ever amen”

nick cave count: 4

20. satan it’s you – jett screams

@polishnatural recommendation. cellmates (and bunk buddies) with the devil in hell type vibes

21. relax, take it easy - mika

the war has already been won and nothing that happens in here has any effect on the real world. why not relax into the simplicity of it all!! (sometimes it’s just better when things are bad type vibes)

22. don’t lose your temper - xtc

we’re out of the cage! and starting strong with a mocking song bc he already lost his temper and grew mild and that’s why he’s too tired to fight. so this is the only hallucifer era song on the playlist

23. first wave intact – secret machines

war metaphors. extended wars. unwinnable wars.

“I wonder what you're waiting for. I wonder what you're working for. I wonder what you're living for. I wonder what you're dying for”

same king

24. mexican war streets - mewithoutYou

“but how long before our tails are caught by our "free" thought?” INDEED

“nature had another plan (& failed to run it by me!) nature had another plan, some other surrogate self to live in the sediment of so many somebody elses' innumerable lives and you were right: it's not a person who dies but worlds die inside us”

SO TRUE. we’re fully breaking into late seasons here

mwY count: 3

25. screen shot - swans

these are all sam’s meditation mantras. he’s offering a course: how to become okay with really horrible situations that you are also complicit in. “love! now! breathe! now! love! now! breathe! now!”

26. god’s away on business – tom waits

IT WASN’T GOD IN YOUR HEAD SAM

27. when the lights come on – they might be giants

when the lights come on (when lucifer brings you back to life)

28. light’s on

TWO songs about sam’s resurrection at lucifer’s hands??? yeah ;)

“the lights are on, you don’t know just who your friends are. the lights are on, and it’s light you’ll never know”

29. devil’s resting place – laura marling

I mean. yeah. his time in the cage with the devil coming back to haunt him

30. failure - swans

see my edit that I won’t link bc I can’t find. but anyway yeah. this guy fails a lot

31. last song about satan – slim cessna’s auto club

ding dong the devil is dead!!

32. president – max frost

@girlkingsam recommendation. late seasons sam vibes for sure. plus this song can be read as being about hell politics which is fun. I don’t give a damn who’s president (of hell)!

33. the road goes on forever – the highwayen

cycles of violence, etc. the road goes on forever, nothing ever (really) changes. (also yes sonny is dean and sherry is sam. I guess)

34. careers in combat – parquet courts

the namesake of my little fanfiction.

“there are no more summer lifeguard jobs, there are no more art museums to guard. the lab is out of white lab coats cause there are no more slides and microscopes. but there are still careers in combat my son!!!”

king of hell ending please please you’re nothing. anyway he’s been at war his whole life and war is his legacy. anyway.

[rosecolouredmind]

Savior

Nicholas Scratch x Reader

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Part Four:

The Angel of Mercy

First, it was his soul.

Nick never regretted the fact that he was born a warlock. He had powers, longevity, and led a lifestyle of envy. So, when he came of age, he signed on the dotted line in the Book of the Beast. Ever since then, the word ‘regret’ had never once entered his vocabulary.

There was a slim chance he’d ever be called upon to do something untoward, and if it did happen, well...what’s one sin in exchange for a life of frivolity and debauchery?

But next...it was his heart.

Lust, power, knowledge; dedicating his soul to the Dark Lord came with massive perks, and he wasn’t exactly complaining when one of them manifested in the appearance of Sabrina Spellman.

No...Sabrina Morningstar.

He couldn’t explain exactly how or why. His devotion, his loyalty; It had been stolen away by yet another Morningstar, his heart charmed and mind swayed. The powerful capabilities the young witch displayed did nothing but endear him to the demure, compassionate mor(t)ality she fought so hard to keep.

Sabrina Morningstar-Spellman was both the enticement and innocence of the flesh of the lamb... and it would have done Nick well to remember that the lamb is but the spawn of the Beast.

Suddenly, Nick found himself dancing a little too closely with the Devil; twin stars he pledged himself to ended up with him finally learning the word regret once the last pledge left his lips:

Nicholas Scratch, for the love of his life and the containment of it’s keeper, volunteered to be the flesh acheron.

And now, Nick found himself trapped in an everlasting Hell even the darkest of his nightmares couldn’t have begun to manifest.

The Baphomet and the lamb; the Degraded and the Pure. Both were sides of the same twisted fate he’d found himself a part of, desperate to escape. His mind had long since melted into a pool of chaos and intense fear. He’d tried countless ways to just end it all, if only Lucifer were so kind. He no longer had a life to speak of; just endless suffering and eternal doom. His life wasn’t supposed to be like this…

Not like this.

Nick thought himself a pretty gifted warlock, and had long since placed protection charms upon his mind and body should anything or anyone with malicious intention attempt to try him.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking at the time he convinced Sabrina, the coven, and himself that it was a good idea to use his own body as the flesh acheron, but he does admit that hubris and naivete played a part. And at the moment of that final “I love you” to Sabrina, he accepted his fate and was determined to face it no matter what happened to him.

Unfortunately for Nick, you can’t guard against the Devil.

Lucifer made quick work of him, and Nick soon found himself in a never-ending cycle of pain and torture he couldn’t have even fathomed beforehand. Suddenly, his life’s outlook was being eternally violated by the Dark Lord without reprieve. And from what it looked like, it was only a matter of time before he completely broke and the Dark Lord once again took up his mantle of dominating Hell and eventually Earth. All that would be left of Nick and his sacrifice would be any empty shell of a person who no longer knows how to exist as one.

So when the lamb arrived and saved Nick from the Baphomet, he supposed he should have been grateful. Happy, even. Nick had gone to Hell for Sabrina Spellman, and she’d gone to Hell to save him.

But as time still seemed to stretch on without end, he started to break.

Though it wasn’t exactly her fault, Sabrina could never understand what her father put him through because of her. Coupled with her lack of even really trying, her wish for him to just sweep everything under the rug and go back to how things were left him feeling more than a little resentful.

The resounding silence of his once scrambled mind did nothing but make for a much effective echochamber of his worst memories; memories which were exceedingly numerous and fresh. Nick looked for something, anything to fill up or dull that silence; most of which were methods not exactly healthy for him and definitely not healthy for his relationship.

It didn’t take long for the Morningstars to steal away Nicholas Scratch, and it was with resounding disgust that they spat back out all three parts of him they’d taken, broken beyond recognition.

Now stuck dealing with his many issues alone, the tortured boy clung to the only achingly fleeting memories that kept him grounded in rationality instead of spiraling into illusions of the dreadful abyss looming in his haunted mind. And as he replayed the images of the illuminating figure who reminded him that he was still human and that his heart was still beating, to his displeasure he’d found that he wished he had more.

She visited exactly 12 times.

Twelve blessed encounters, each one increasing his fervor more than the last; her presence was like a drug to Nick, a sustenance that he would easily admit to himself he couldn’t go without any longer.

While (Y/N) did explain to him that her powers were limited inside Hell and there wasn’t much of a chance she could directly free him, he couldn’t stop himself from pining after her whenever she was absent. At first, images of Sabrina had been what kept him going. He constantly reminded himself that she was probably doing all she could to save him, and when she actually did, he told himself that everything would finally be okay again.

Nick and Sabrina picked up exactly where they left off, eager to get back to each other again. He reminded himself, Satan be damned, he loved her; otherwise he’d have never sacrificed himself for her to begin with.

Nick had gone to Hell for Sabrina Spellman, was tortured by the Devil himself, and at the time, he had no regrets.

But things couldn’t go back to the way they used to be. He couldn’t go back.

That doesn’t mean that Sabrina didn’t try to help him in whatever way she could, but once she revealed her new royal status, Nick’s remaining feelings of responsibility towards the blonde Morningstar withered away along with the rest of the kinders of their relationship.

Nick was back amongst his coven, friends, lover; but he still felt so achingly alone and afraid all the time. He wanted to feel something, anything other than the despair Lucifer Morningstar so thoroughly imprinted into his being. Despite the love he told himself he felt for the little Morningstar, the literal spawn of his trauma, the only beacon he could rely on to keep him sane was the memory of you.

And as he reminisced on your serendipitous encounters, to his shame, he couldn’t help but compare.

After a while, it had become hard for Nick to separate the daughter from the father, the lamb from the Baphomet. In his intense resentment, he’d gotten to the point where his mind was becoming absolutely blank as it gave in to the invading presence of the sheer evil he’d been fighting against for so long…

And then an angel descended, and he’d nearly cried out in tears and praise for the false God.

It had taken him a while to realize that Lucifer’s presence couldn’t be felt anymore, and even longer to convince himself that it wasn’t a trick. He would close his eyes and see his demons warping beneath the surface, twisting his psyche into a weak, chaotic mess. He would open them and still see red, the color of a neverending hellscape created specifically to terrorize his soul and break him apart piece by piece, rebuilding and breaking again until nothing original was left. He saw despair, and he felt it as well. A gloom so deeply settled into his being that it would have been impossible to get rid of; a shell of the person he’d once been.

So no, Nick couldn’t tell you if his eyes were ever open or closed, because it made no difference to him at all. And one day in that eternity of Hell, Nick finally came to realize he regretted being all alone...

So, pray tell, when a lonely, broken boy suddenly feels someone wipe away his tears, what ever should he say?

He could only posture himself and pray.

The warmth and comfort his angel brought him blessed him with a near orgasmic experience, abruptly tugging him from the brink of despair. For a moment, he questioned if she, if he — was even real, or if Lucifer was really trying that hard to live up to his name as the harbinger of lost home and doom. But when the blessed hands caressed his face, and those saintly eyes pierced through the darkness forever in his view to meet his own, all he could feel was intense relief -- and shame.

Shame over who he was, where he’d gotten himself, and how he’d gotten there.

Surely someone who dedicated their life and soul to the Devil himself didn’t deserve the presence and grace of a literal angel in the darkest moment of his life?

So, with his eyes wide open once again, he cried. He cried at her grace, and at her mercy. Even after she coaxed him down from his delirium and explained who she really was, he wept at the sheer exuberance he felt that she even appeared -- let alone helped him -- just when he was forgetting what it felt to feel anything but pain and suffering. She was his angel, godly or not, and he thanked his lucky stars that it was his fate to be able to meet her in that moment.

Soon, between visits, it became her face, not Sabrina’s, that he’d found had kept him going. (Y/N) had become his symbol of hope, his new god, his only savior. Disillusioned with giving his life to people who only harmed him, (Y/N) became his new religion as he found himself praying to the stars and the Fates for her speedy return. Every time he was graced with her presence, he understood that whatever was written in the stars for him couldn’t have been so bad if he was able to meet her in between the lines.

And when Nick found himself finally out of Hell and in Sabrina’s arms again, he was fully prepared to keep his newfound faith close to his heart and out of the sight of others. Everything that had happened to him was incredibly personal, whether it be his time with you or with the Dark Lord. But when Sabrina revealed her new status as Queen of Hell to him and effectively admitted that everything he’d been through -- his sacrifice, his loss, his pain -- was all for nothing, Nick felt as if time had stopped and his heart had caved in.

He tried his hardest to be okay; with his life, with his coven, with Sabrina. He began coping in the only way he knew how, which admittedly did more harm than good. But without your presence to pull him from the brink, Nick found himself spiralling down the dark depths of his memories with no foreseeable end and without support. Eventually, the pent up resentment and mind games the Dark Lord still insisted on playing with him even after his escape got to him, and he lashed out. The Morningstars took everything from him; his heart, his body, his soul. The coven, Sabrina; no one actually understood him or the anguish he had experienced -- still experienced -- every second of his existence since that final pledge left his lips. The increased sense of isolation brought up his darkest thoughts and feelings, and soon he found himself not only cut off from Sabrina, but from the rest of the coven as well.

As the witches found themselves caught off guard by the arrival of the pagans, Nick instead would find himself staring up at the night sky, alone, searching for his hope.

And while the witches were more concerned with the moon, Nick was waiting for the stars.

As it was predestined, one very particular night Nick felt a very particular warmth bloom across his chest. He smiled, and smiled as wide as his face would allow at that. Because as he watched a very particular star fall from the sky, he knew finally:

The person he placed his faith in didn’t let him down.

*

Author’s Note: Here’s part 5! Next chapter should be out next Sunday.

Please ask to be tagged! Reblogs, comments and asks are appreciated as well but not required 🤠

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"better creatures" for the made-up fic title thing

okay this took me SO LONG, like i had a general idea right away but sadly i wasn't in the best place of mind to write it down, so i apologize for the delay. anyway, here it is! <3 i hope you like it darling, and thank you for the great title!

made-up fic title:　better creatures

alright, this one screams archangels to me so i raise you: a long-ass fic that goes from the very beginning of, well, everything, to the end of it all. the very end, that is.

at first, it's about four incredible beings; four brothers whose father, at some point, creates humanity.

we know about the fall already, but i think it would be very interesting to explore how the archangels' relationship with one another and god changed when humans came along, and what their perspectives and opinions on them were. we know about lucifer's, of course, but i feel like it would be so much fun to focus on who actually spent time among them or watching over them. because weren't the archangels (and the entirety of the heavenly host for that matter) told to love humanity? weren't they told that those weak creatures were to be better than them?

so, i would probably alternate four different povs (pre-lucifer's fall) and then three (raphael, michael, gabriel), and then mainly only one: gabriel's. the closest to us all, the one who ran away from his family's endless, eternal fighting and spent thousands of years hiding among humans.

it would be very interesting to basically go over his adventures on earth: how he came across the norse god loki, got to know him and obtain a vessel just like his, and then pretended to be a pagan god for a while. what kind of relationship he had with other deities, when and where and how he met kali, and where he went afterward, and how often he moved from one area to another. the many identities he might have adopted; a succession of different eras and continents and costumes and reigns and populations and dynasties falling apart and rebuilding themselves from ashes before his eyes. the best and the worst of all times.

just think about it: all the insignificant, fragile, silly little men and women and children that he met along the way. year after year that then turned into decades and centuries and thousands of years, while the world around him changed and wars and revolutions and discoverings kept happening one after the other.

how did his view of us evolve and change? how many names and faces from lifetimes ago did gabriel come to tuck in a corner of his grace and take with him forever, in his own way? how many times did oblivious humans befriend him or run into him on the street or spoke to him without knowing that they were going to be part of the reason we have this dialogue in season 5:

gabriel: because dad was right. they are better than us. lucifer: they are broken, flawed! abortions! gabriel: damn right they're flawed. but a lot of them try. to do better, to forgive. and you should see the spearmint rhino! i've been riding the pine a long time. but I'm in the game now, and i'm not on your side, or michael's. i'm on theirs.

i just think it would be very interesting to explore such a complex character and see him evolve and go from the archangel who didn't want anything to do with useless fighting and conflict to the only one out of four who stood up for humanity. because yeah, sure, gabriel is no saint; he has his own ways, he's a preternatural being, he's frighteningly enormous and wicked and mischievous. but he did ask himself: who is better, really? us, or them?

now, in canon, gabriel fakes his death after that particular scene with lucifer. then he will die later on. we know that. i would probably change it a little bit because i'm petty like that when it comes to the latest seasons' writing another neat little thing is that gabriel isn't the only archangel who grew fond or accepting of humans (or well, some humans? one human?). and for how much people usually focus on michael and lucifer as opposites, and for how much the archangels in general no longer have a sibling-like relationship, i would actually like to compare gabriel and michael.

they're more similar than people make them out to be, so at the very end — maybe mirroring the very beginning, from a scenery point of view; earth's very first moments vs earth's very last moments, millions of years from now — there could be these two immortals.

the trickster who lived amongst men and stood up and died for them because he cared, and the soldier harbinger of the apocalypse who spent a millennium in hell and changed while falling in love with a human.

they would probably have a complicated dynamic since so much time will have passed and so many things will have happened and as a midam shipper the aforementioned human would be there since he's thee vessel obviously but nonetheless—long story short: at last, the two remaining archangels. the ones who ended up going beyond the story's original plot and who, by caring for the silly little creatures their father created and against his better judgment, became better creatures themselves.

insp: I hear babies crying, I watch them grow They'll learn much more than I'll ever know I think to myself, what a wonderful world Yes, I think to myself, oh, what a wonderful world

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: God is Dead?

I might start updating twice a week because I am writing this story at BREAKNECK speed. this is my favorite chapter so far. enjoy! (special thanks to @friedchickenangelwings once again for sticking with me and my incessant rambling about this story at all hours during holidays)

Fic Summary:  Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching. 

“You know?” Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?” 

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.” 

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off. 

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side.  “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.” 

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat. 

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?” 

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.” 

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen. 

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.” 

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with Lucifer without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?” 

“Ash, what about the human rumors?” 

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?” 

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.” 

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.” 

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?” 

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo… 

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.” 

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm. 

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too. 

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad. 

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon. 

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,” 

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?” 

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!” 

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope. 

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?” 

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.” 

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks. 

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question. 

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.” 

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?” 

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?” 

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?” 

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him that. “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.” 

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like that and then leave. It’s a bitch-ass move. 

“Yo, Deano?” 

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“How do we jail-break ‘em?” 

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…” 

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.” 

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.” 

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.” 

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time. 

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.” 

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?” 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?” 

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.” 

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s. 

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.” 

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[mitsuaziel]

Rain (Barbatos x Reader)

Female! Reader

Slight angst but with a happy ending

In the human realm there you stood, under the heavy rain that wets your figure, soaking your entire being with its polluted water but you couldn't care less about how you'll get sick afterwards. No. You stare into nothingness, the heavy rain greatly limiting your field of vision to maybe one to two meters and even so, objects are extremely blurry.

The reason why you're under the rain is because you're heartbroken. It's stupid, yes, you know but he was your fiance of three years so it's heart shattering and as if your life line is plugged out when you caught him in action with another woman, balls deep into her as her moans fill the room, clearly having a good time. The reason for his cheating is because you didn't want to have sexual intercourse with him but being the religious person you are, you stated that you didn't want to have sex until after marriage but it seems that he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea.

'He only wants you for your body', your best friend said, attempting to comfort you but it didn't do much as your mind wanders to that specific moment in your life.

'He's the one missing out! It just means that he wasn't your soulmate. God has other plans for you', then why did He has to make it so painful to you?

'Fuck that guy! I hope he gets condemned to Hell', you wish too but you try to get yourself out of that mind set since it's quite the sin to wish someone that.

All these allegations are true, yet here you are, under the rain thinking negatively about yourself. Weren't you pretty enough? Wasn't your company enough for him? Satisfying enough for him? You let out a shaky breath and close your eyes, the rain getting heavier if that's possible. You really want to disappear off the surface of the Earth but you didn't. Again, it's a great sin if you did it.

So, you resorted to just being sad and crying out your sadness all alone. It was... Comforting, to say the very least and with the rain, it's easy to cover up your tears and voice.

"ARGH!" You screamed out loud. You could barely make out your own voice. Perfect.

So you screamed again and again and again until you ran out of energy. If you can't hurt or kill yourself, you might as well tire yourself and just go to sleep. But even so, you figured that you might have nightmares regarding what happened to you just yesterday so you might as well completely drain your energy until you can't move.

With one last scream of frustration and anger, you drop to your knees and let tears flow down your face. God, you just wanted to kill yourself but you can't. Sometimes you wish you weren't that religious but it's these times that you're also glad.

How long have you been under the rain? Half an hour? An hour? More than that? You don't know nor do you care at this point. You certainly couldn't care less about your health as well. You just want to hide under the rain so when you thought the rain stopped, you were confused. It's still raining yet why aren't you under it? Then, you look up.

An umbrella.

"Wha?" You breathe out under your breath as you look at the person holding the umbrella.

Due to the darkness, you can't really see his features but you can tell that he's wearing a suit and has gloves on. His expression though empty as ever, his eyebrows are furrowed as if to mimic confusion. He holds out a hand for you to grab and for a moment, flashbacks of your ex-boyfriend doing the same fills your vision and you shake your head.

The man assumes that you didn't want help and retracts his hand. You stand up but wobbled a bit due to you kneeling for so long, causing you to accidentally grab the man's arm. He was as still as a statue, seemingly unbothered by the fact that you just threw yourself towards him. You mutter an apology even though he won't hear it and didn't bother to squeeze water out your hair or clothes.

"Are you okay, miss?" He asks.

You nod and look away, slightly embarrassed of your appearance at the moment. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be going now."

"Wait."

You turn to him. "Do you need something, sir?"

Lightning strikes, lighting up the darkness and you only manage to see his features clearly for a few seconds. Beautiful emerald eyes, green hair gradienting to a teal down his bangs on the left side of his face and no expression at all yet it seems to compliment his handsome features. For a moment, you forgot to breathe. How can a man this beautiful exist?

"You just seem sad and I know that I'm just a stranger, a nobody to you but I do have some time to spare before I go back to serve my master." He states.

You were suspicious. The world is a dangerous place and if a handsome man like Ted Bundy can turn out to be a manipulative murderer, then surely, the man in front of you can do the same.

When no answer is heard from you, he sighs and puts a hand over his heart before bowing down to you, much to your surprise. "I am Barbatos, the butler to my master, Lord Diavolo."

"I... I see." You weren't expecting a butler to be by your side.

"You now know my name, my occupation and my master. Surely, this is enough information for you." The butler, you now know as Barbatos, said.

"Oh, uh, yeah." You awkwardly fidget around. He's just too formal with you that makes it uncomfortable for you.

"So, may I know what is the cause of your sadness? Why are you just kneeling under the heavy rain? Are you not scared of what might happen to you if you were to stay too long out here?" He shoots you question after question.

You wanted to tell him but you're scared of the thought of him ridiculing you. Your fiance's friends did, is he any different?

Barbatos sighs once again and mumbles something before saying, "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. I do apologize if I do happen to make you feel that way. All I want to do is lend an ear. It is not too wrong of me to do so, is it now?"

You look at the more interesting ground. "Why do you even want to listen to my problems anyway? A butler like you shouldn't help me. You must have other jobs to do and even if I tell you, it's not like you're gonna use that information."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I just want to help."

Damn, he's persistent, you thought. It's not like you're ungrateful, it's more like preventing other people from meddling into your own problems that you can handle by yourself. You didn't need or want someone else's help. You can figure everything out yourself.

And yet...

"Kill me."

The butler was surprised. "Excuse me, but could you repeat what you just said?"

"Ah..." You shake your head. What were you thinking? "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

Just as you turn away, a hand grabs your arm. "Wait."

You wait for him to talk.

"I know I have no place to say this, and it's ironic that I'm the one who's saying this, but don't do it. Life may be hard for you but surely, there must be people who love you. I don't know what happened and really, I have no say in this, if you're thinking about suicide, shouldn't you do something you love? Be with the people you love instead of suffering all alone and eventually hurting other people?"

You look back at him with tears welling up in your eyes. "This is a stupid reason and all, but I just... Can't. The person I love betrayed me. He... He promised."

Barbatos lets go of your hand. "Then, that just means he's a liar, a toxic person in your life. Is it not a relief that you found out instead of being blinded by his lies?"

You wanted to talk back but you bite back your tongue. It is true. Better now then never. You think for a while before forcing a smile on your face. "I suppose so. Thanks for... Talking, I guess. I really appreciate it."

A small smile curl his lips, enhancing his already handsome face. "You're welcome."

*****

Barbatos finally went back to Lord Diavolo's castle after buying all the necessary items from the human realm.

"Barbatos! There you are! Where have you been? It took longer than usual. Did it run out of stock or something?" Lord Diavolo asks as he goes through his endless pile of paperwork.

The butler bows down to his master as a form of apology. "I am sorry, My Lord. No, it's not because of that."

"Then, what took you so long?"

Memories of the rainy scene plays in his head but he answered differently despite knowing that Lord Diavolo can tell between a truth and a lie. "There was a fuss over a mistake I did, My Lord. Wouldn't this new generation call that a 'Karen'?"

Though he knows, Lord Diavolo was more interested in the name the humans gave for someone with such an attitude. "A Karen, huh? Call Levi here! I need to know what that means!"

The day continues on like normal but Barbatos kept on wondering why the devils did he help such a helpless human who's willing to kill themself just because of a broken heart? He doesn't understand his own actions and frankly, he doesn't wish to know why either. He's a demon, a duke, an earl, he shouldn't care so why did he help that one human?

Ahh, of course.

"Welcome to Devildom!"

"Barbatos?"

He bows down to the new exchange student and smiles at you. "Welcome, MC."

"You were a fucking demon?!" You were surprised rather than scared.

"Were?" Lucifer asks but is ignored when both you and Barbatos wouldn't answer him.

How have the Fates destined the both of you to meet again.

[musingsofanunorgainizedmind]

Top 10 Things I Love About Supernatural

It’s been almost half a year since the show ended and now that the dust has settlIed, I just want to list ten reasons I love this show. Despite it’s flaws, it’s been quite the ride.

1. Team Free Will

When I first got the idea to make this list, I originally planned on doing entirely separate entries for “Sam & Dean” and “Destiel”. Except then I wanted to pay tribute to “Sastiel”. And then I wanted to do an entry for “Team Free Dads”. By that point, I was already halfway through the list and I hadn’t even moved on from the main characters. A few months ago, I made a post about why I love every single pairing in this group. Obviously, Sam and Dean are a legendary duo. Obviously, Dean and Cas have an unparalleled story. Obviously, Sam and Cas are an underrated team. As for Team Free Dads, I’ve always had a soft spot for father/mentor figure characters and and all three tackle the role in different ways. I love Jack, too. I love how everyone in this bizarro family is “broken” in some way. We’ve got the Allistair’s prized pupil, the spawn of satan, the boy with demon blood, and the angel who nearly obliterated all of heaven. But they help each other heal by being supportive and seeing the good in each other. They all love each other so deeply and when together, nothing can stand in their way. Not Michael, not Lucifer, and not God himself. They tore up the book and wrote their own story. And it was a pleasure to watch it all unfold.

2. The Suppporting Characters

To list every single supporting character I have loved and lost in this show would take way too long. I don’t know if it’s the writing or acting performances, but I love pretty much every single supporting character on this show. Even villains like Azazel or Allistair are top-notch villains. Hell, I even like characters like Metatron, Lucifer, Mary, and John! Characters like Rufus, Charlie, Crowley, Rowena, Kevin, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Gabriel, Balthazar, Mick...how am I not supposed to love them??? All of their stories were cut so short. I’d watch a show about any of these characters. The Wayward Sisters were robbed. So many ships were gone too soon (Sam/Rowena, Dean/Jo, Cas/Meg, Etc.). So many heartbreaking deaths. I want to be best friends with all these characters. Why be a “dean-girl” or a “sam-girl” when you can be a garth-girl? A kevin-girl? A claire-girl? A bela-girl? There are so many great characters with interesting and compelling backstories and so much untapped potential. I could go on forever on this, but I digress.This show has one of the best supporting casts I have ever had the pleasure of watching.

3. The Themes

It’s no accident that I got addicted to this show at the time that I did. Namely, my Senior Year of College and 2020. Graduating college and entering the “real world” felt like it’s own sort of apocalypse. 2020 definitely exacerbated my worst tendencies. Messages like “family don’t end in blood”, “you can write your own story”, and “always keep fighting” really resonated with me. I could definitely relate to the feelings of insecurity these character’s felt and the ways they suppressed/repressed their issues instead of facing them. I could relate to the feelings of not fitting in and I could definitely relate to the loneliness. This show helped remind me that I’m not alone. That it’s okay if my values and identity don’t line up with the what I envisioned for myself. And, most importantly, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that I should never give up. If Dean, Sam, and Cas can keep moving forward despite their demons and despite how bad it gets, so can I. Regardless of how the story ended, these themes resonated with me and I’ll still hold them with me. A single episode can’t take that away.

4. The Fun Episodes

This show has so many legendary standalone episodes. Changing Channels. Ghostfacers. The French Mistake. Fan Fiction. Tall Tales. Bad Day at Black Rock. When this show goes for the absurd, it goes all-in. It takes the risks it needs to take, it gets completely insane, and it pulls it off. So many of these episodes could have easily been the moment that the show “jumped the shark”. Yet, time after time, the show delivered on it’s potential. I don’t know how much I can say about these episodes except that they made me laugh out loud, made me fall even harder for these characters, and that they’re the episodes I remember best. If I were to rewatch any episode, it would be one of the fun ones. This show knew how to not take itself too seriously and how to poke fun at itself. I’ve always had a soft spot for shows that can make me laugh and cry (X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel, Doctor Who, etc.), and this show definitely nails the fun part. 

5. The Sad Episodes

Death’s Door. Hammer of the Gods. Despair. Carry On. Abandon All Hope. In My Time of Dying. Swan Song. When this show wants you to cry, it doesn’t pull the punches. It gets downright devastating. No character is safe. Literally every character you love will either be forgotten or will die. Or both. The amount of trauma Sam and Dean have to go through is insane. Both have literally been to hell and back. Both have killed countless people, including innocents. When this show decides it wants to wreck you, it’s overwhelming. I sobbed when Bobby died. I sobbed when every single member of Team Free Will died for the final time (I still can’t watch any of those scenes). I still wish Jo, Ellen, Charlie, Kevin, Mick, and Gabriel had been given more time to tell their stories. Being a hunter means a life of endless angst. Being an angel or demon doesn’t get you off the hook, either. I remember going into this show thinking it couldn’t hurt me. My favorite character type is “mentor/father figure”. But holy hell...I don’t think every single sad moment was necessarily good writing, but when it was? Damn. 

6. The Biblical Themes

I’m not a relgious person. But, despite this show being steeped in Christian mythology, it really touched on my feelings about the Old Testament in a profound way. Well, really just Ben Edlund and Robbie Thompson did. I’ve never seen a show really hit the overall feel of the bible the way this show does. The idea of Angels as mystical and terrifying creatures. The idea of God as a flawed father figure with a penchant for wrath. The sheer epicness of the biblical stories. The idea of family members constantly being turned on each other. Cain and Abel. Jacob and Essau. Moses and Ramses. Moses and Aaron. Abraham and Isaac. The bible is full of stories of family drama. This show doesn’t always give angels and demons weight. Sometimes it’s silly and stupid and cheesy. But when it hits right? It’s epic. This is more of a personal thing I love about the show, but definitely a plus!

7. The Music

The early seasons music is so good. I really miss the classic rock of the golden era of the show. I mean, there are still some great musical moments later on, but damn. I loved hearing songs I recognized and I loved learning new songs. I loved when the song and the scene hit perfectly in time (Death’s intro. Cas’s return in Season 13.). Also Supernatural wouldn’t be Supernatural without the ‘Carry On My Wayward Son’ song at the end of every season. Even at the end of a season I didn’t love, that recap would always get me pumped. Also Chuck singing Fare Thee Well? Dean and Lee singing together? Fan Fiction? All great. 

8. The Cast & Crew

I never care about the actors or actresses in a show. I definitely don’t bother with the names of specific writers and directors or their styles of writing/directing. They’re just random people who happen to write for or play these characters I love. They’re not actually the characters. But these guys? Well, for one, I’m pretty sure half this cast actually is their character. At least to some degree. They’re also just...really cool people? Who are all friends? They make a point to do community service, to interact with fans, and to promote positive ideas. Jared’s Always Keep Fighting campaign. Misha and GISH. The fact that they all participate in fundraising opportunities and encourage fan engagement. Do they all have issues? Definitely. Have they said stupid things? Yes. But the good far outweighs the bad. They’re an entertaining bunch whether onscreen or not and I hope they all do well in whatever their future endeavors may be.  

9. The Fandom

I joined this fandom late. To be honest, I thought this fandom was obnoxious before I found myself a part of it. Now that I’ve been in the trenches? It’s got it’s ups and downs like any fandom. There are some parts that are more toxic than others. A lot of people yelling that their opinion is the only opinion. But overall? The good outweighs the bad. And the good? The good is great. Some fanfictions I’ve read are better than actual books I’ve read and just as moving. The fanart? Incredible. I love reading all the metas about random aspects of the show I never would have noticed. I love the music videos and I love the analytical videos. In real life, I’ve made many friends through our mutual love of this show. Hell, even getting sucked into GISH once or twice has given me some solid memories and brought me closer to friends. I wish all fandoms were this much like family. I’m so glad I got to be a part of this fandom and I can’t wait to continue being a fan. After all, nothing ever stays dead in Supernatural.

10. The Chaos & Insanity

Season 16 has been a time. First, Destiel went canon. Then suddenly Sherlock was having a 5th season, Putin was retiring, and Georgia was going blue. Destiel going “canon” and Joe Biden winning the presidency will always be correlated in my mind now. Things in the fandom went from quiet to blaringly loud real fast. Carry On happened. The fandom went into a civil war. I can’t even remember half of what happened in Season 16, but it’s been a wild ride. There’s been ups (my personal favorite being the french dub and the Saileen wedding). There’s been downs (Jared’s controversial statements and the original scripts being leaked). At one point Misha Collins had sex with Bill Clinton???? It’s been a wild time. It’s honestly gotten me through the end of this pandemic. At least it’s entertaining. I would say that at least all the craziness is over, but is it ever really over? Every time I say that something else completely insane happens. But it’s been fun. I’m glad I started watching this show despite my reservations and here’s to whatever happens next. 

[maddiethebull]

Lucifer (Obey Me!) - Prompt #7 - “May I have this dance?”

This is a repost, I deleted the other one, have fun reading!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VR-6AS0-l4 here’s some music to listen to while reading this :) Its what i listened to while writing it.

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The Devildom New Years Ball. It was the event of the year, besides Lord Diavolo’s birthday ball, this was the most famous event they had to offer. It would be an extravagant sight to see; there would be hundreds of demons dressed to the nines, there would be elegant decor, there would be live classical musicians, everything was to make it the most amazing affair possible. You didn’t know whether you should be excited or terrified. You’ve never been to a ball, let alone a ball run and attended by demons! Needless to say, you were nervous. It did help slightly that this year’s theme was Masquerade. You wouldn’t have to worry about being instantly recognized as one of the only two humans there. It was to start at 7:00 p.m. that night and it was currently noon as you and the brothers sat down to have lunch. It was all pleasant until Lucifer leaned towards you,

“By the way, MC, I need to have a talk with you about your recent grades.”

That’s when the immediate fear set in. While you knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm you physically, whenever he had a ‘talk’ with you it always felt like a punch to the gut. After you all finished your meal, you crept your way into his office. He handed you a midterm test with a big red D (lmao i need to stop writing like this) in the corner. Oh no. You looked it over and handed it back to him, you didn’t want to see it for another second.

Lucifer spoke with an emotionless face,

“MC, you don’t apply yourself. You’re smart and you know you’re smart, but just being smart can’t take you all the way. Your grade in Ancient Texts class has dropped significantly and I can’t see any reason why it should have done so other than you lollygagging about with my brothers. I appreciate that you’re good friends with them, but manage your time. If you fail this class, think of how it would make me look? I’m in charge of helping you through your studies and if you failed it would not only make you look incompetent, but me as well.”

Sheepishly you replied, “that class is just really hard, okay? I studied for the midterm a lot but I got a D on it and I didn’t know it would drop my grade by so much.”

He looked up from your near failure of a midterm with cold eyes, “Then expect it next time. You can leave now.”

You damn near ran out of his office to go straight to your room, being yelled at by Lucifer always made you feel horrible and it didn’t help that you had such a fondness of him. Meanwhile Lucifer sat leaned back in his chair, he didn’t like being harsh on you, he didn’t like being harsh on anyone he loved, and with you, it was different than simply loving you as a sibling. He decided to apologize for his harsh words and went to make the two of you some tea as a peace offering but was stopped when he heard your voice.

“UUUGH, BEEL MOVE!”

While lost in your thoughts as you rushed to your room, you slammed into Beel in the kitchen. He looked up at you with his puppy dog face. Shit, you just yelled at him, at this sweet giant who cared so much for you and would even let you have food off of his plate if you asked nicely! ‘MC what’s wrong with you today’, you thought.  

“O-okay, I’ll move. Sorry MC.”

“Wait, Beel I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell it’s just that Lucifer was giving me a “polite talk” about my grades.”

“Oh,” His expression changed to one of pity, “in that case, I’m still sorry, but for you now.”

“Yeah, thanks, I just- I- ugh, you know, he said we’d have a talk about it but it was really him just talking to me and being as cold as the arctic… God, what a hard-ass.” Your feelings were flowing right out of your mouth as Beel stood listening and munching on some bread. Midway through your rant, Asmo walked in,

“Hey, MC! It’s already almost 2:00 so let’s get ready alreadyyyyy.”

You walked off with Asmo, feeling much better from talking to Beel – well, ranting to Beel. Pretty much all he did was eat bread and nod. You and Asmo got ready and to calm yourself fully, you took a hot bath with rose petals. After got out, Asmo helped pick out a dress to wear, it was a beautiful deep emerald colored silk gown with a mock turtleneck and a large diamond shaped cut-out on the back. It hugged your body perfectly and made you feel much better seeing yourself like this. Hmph, I’ll make Lucifer regret being mean to me when I show up looking like a damn movie-star, you thought as you finished off your look with bright red lipstick. Then, what Beel had said while you were letting off steam came to your mind.

~ “I almost did the same thing, but when I asked for help, he didn’t have a second thought and guided me through it, you know. And, MC, I know you’re mad and all and he’s a harsh person and… all, but I know that he cares a lot. He cares about all of us.” ~

You sighed, ‘I know he does.’

After you finished getting dressed, you helped Mammon and Levi put their ties on and told Levi that no, he could not wear a Goku mask to the ball, helped Satan choose which tuxedo coat he should wear, and practically forced Belphie and Beel into theirs. Lucifer had already left for Diavlo’s castle to help finish preparing. You grabbed your black mask, embellished with emeralds surrounding the eyes in a playful pattern, some lace, and a couple black feathers above the left eye and headed for the ball.

Once you got there, your nightmare scenario played out. You were swarmed with demons because, it turns out, they did notice you were a human.

“Why are you lookin’ so uncomfortable?” asked Mammon.

“Because I couldn’t be Goku…”

“Shuddup Levi! I was talkin’ to MC.”

You replied, “I thought that since it was a masquerade the demons wouldn’t be able to tell that I was human and I wouldn’t have to deal with the endless questions about the human world and the endless flirting from the succubi and incubi.”

“MC, they can SMELL you.”

Your face scrunched, “Mammon, ew! You didn’t have to say it like that!”

“Yeah,” said Levi, “you’re making us sound like some creepy ass shinigami lolololol.”

You three laughed loudly enough to catch Lucifer’s attention from across the ballroom. He hadn’t gotten the chance to go over and speak to you since he was making bland conversation with another high ranked demon, but when he saw how you looked, oh gosh… He didn’t have the strength to take his eyes off of you. The way you laughed so brilliantly, the light sparkling on you through the crystals of the chandelier, that cut-out on the back of your dress which exposed nearly your entire back. All he saw in this crowded room was you. The romantic music playing only heightened his desire to stride right over to you and sweep you off your feet, and that’s just what he set out to do,

“Excuse me,” he said to the demon he was speaking with and walked off in your direction. Just as he did that, the music began to speed up to a more jovial tune and those on the dance floor moved with it. He spent a good five minutes navigating through the sea of waltzing demonfolk and when he reached the other side, you were nowhere to be seen.

You stood in the garden looking at the Devildom night sky. You looked at the stars, they seemed to shine brighter down here. Thoughts ran around in your head, thoughts of home, thoughts of here, each of the brothers appeared in your mind. You loved them. When the word family came up, you thought about them, except for one, Lucifer. ‘Lucifer,’ you thought, ‘I wish I could know what you’re really like.’ The faint smell of lilac swirled from the blossoming flowers laid out by the gazebo to envelop you in its sweet scent. Your hair, done up in an elegant low bun with perfectly curled pieces dropping on the side of your face, was brushed by the wind. Walking out to the garden to get some air and clear his mind of you, Lucifer exited the ballroom and saw you standing there. Unknowingly his whole expression softened. He came up to you,

“Good evening, MC. I see that I’m not the only one in need of the solace this quiet garden provides.” You were torn from your thoughts,

“Hey Lucifer,” you said, mustering up a faint and fading smile.

His eyes trailed to your lips, “Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t mind.”

With the lack of conversation, the melody of leaves swaying in the wind filled your ears. Lucifer stood beside you, resting his elbows on the white marble balusters. He had to think of a way to break the icy barrier of his words earlier that day.

He cleared his throat,

“You know, Diavlo is a very professional demon, he’s smart and well organised, so nothing could have prepared me for hearing him shout “I love balls” when we were planning this event.

You burst into laughter, “wow, I didn’t peg you as the type to tell such raunchy jokes.”

With an impish smile he said, “I may be a “hard-ass” and “as cold as the arctic”, but I hold a jocose side occasionally,” He kept his eyes lightly focused on the lilac surrounding you two.

“Oh, you heard that then… I’m sorry Lucifer, I was angry and I shouldn’t have said those things, I mean, you just want me to try harder and-”

“No need to be sorry I’m well aware that they hold a certain amount of truth.” His smile faded. He looked up at you then back to the flowers, “though I would like it if, every once in a while, that I could be seen as my other qualities.”

You had no idea how to reply. You wanted to tell him that you did, but did you? Only a couple of hours ago you were insulting him. His red eyes, burning with emotion, shot up to yours, seeming to whisper to you, ‘please, don’t let the way I feel be a mistake.’

“Hm, sometimes I say too much, don’t I?”

You chuckled, “that we can agree on.”

Now he was laughing, you wished you could never stop seeing that.

“I want to say something else, or rather, ask something else. Do you suppose i should?”

You mirrored his impish smile from earlier, “Sure, why not?”

He stepped back, the Avatar of Pride bowed before you, hand held out, solemnly looking into your eyes and asking,

“May I have this dance?”

You felt the blush rise to your cheeks like a rose blooming in the spring.

“I can’t very well say no to that offer can I?”

He laughed, “of course not.”

You gladly grabbed his hand and he pulled you in. To the faint piano melody coming from the castle you began to dance inside the white marble gazebo. You moved together, swayed together, breathed together. It was romantic, it was extravagant, it was beautiful. The gentle breeze brushing against your cheeks, flowing its way to sway in his dark black hair. You could hardly believe this was happening, but you never wanted this dream-like dance to end. As far as either of you knew, the dance lasted for hours under the night sky with the moon and stars that seemingly cheered you on. You were together until everyone had gone home from the ball, but neither of you could care less. This moment was to be immortalized in your memories forever.

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Well, this is long as fuck sorry lmao