#i shall be writing more of these

[wifetomegatron]

a study in metal and silk. mtmte imagines.

I think there's just something about the stark contrast between fabric and metal that makes me feral. The sharp, striking counterpoint of sentio metallico against human skin. It makes me lightheaded to think of the gentle brushes and soft strokes exchanged between cybertronians and their humans lovers — how painfully tender these titans try to be with hands that have most likely torn ships apart.

Fort Max holding your coat up and letting you glide one arm in after the other, cashmere wool against cyberium — and to think that when in oil form, it has the chance of poisoning you. Yet welded into his armor, the metal was ( what you claimed ) your favorite thing about him. You'd pepper kisses along his servos, feather-light and playful, against each finger to thank him for being such a gentlemech. He was always at a loss when it came to your soft gestures as if his hands hadn't been bloodied and torn and scathed with energon. Yet he doesn't have the strength to protest when you lay your cheek against his palm, which was big enough to cover your entire head, even with his mass displaced.

First Aid helping his beloved into their shirt, your eyes barely open as the sunlight hits you square in the face. You wanted to ask him why he had opened the curtains this early in the morning, on a Sunday too, but you can't seem to focus on anything else but his servos. The bed creaked and dipped on his side, the mattress straining under his weight even if you've lined it with a layer of metal below. He looks funny against the pristine blankets, and despite his reputation for a set of steady hands, they were still bulky and square. So he takes his time looping the buttons into their respective holes, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, already lulling back to sleep. Your heartbeat was a strange, distant sound against the humming of his spark.

Minimus slowly eased his human out of their ballet slippers, untying the ribbons one by one: careful, patient, servos already soothing the irritated skin. The pink satin looks alien against his grip, out of place. And yet he handles them with care, knowing how much you prize them. His mouth ghosts over your knee, trailing down as he massages your ankle. He's saying something about not pushing yourself too hard, and you want to call him out for being a hypocrite, but it's impossible to speak when you're drowning in the sensation of his touch as it brushes over the hem of your skirt. So you sit in silence; admiring, watching, as he continues to give you a lecture (lovingly, of course).

Rodimus, adjusting you as you cling onto his back, arms looped around his neck as he grips both of your thighs on either side of his waist. He gives you a playful squeeze, and you laugh into his jugular cables, high heels — black leather and polymer — dangling off your fingers as he piggybacks you back home. He tells you that you should've gone with the more practical choice, and you tease him about sounding like his co-captain. Relishing in the subtle thrum of his frame against your chest, slumping forward to press your lips against his cheek — smooth, unbending, yet warm to the touch. Different from your perception of what metal feels like, you have to remind yourself living metal is far from cold. 

Ratchet sliding your gloves over your hands, the article of clothing an inconvenient little thing to a Cybertronian. And yet, for you, they help keep the cold out — especially when insulated by wool. The golden brooch by the ends of each wrist glinted under the streetlamp. Above, snowflakes danced in the light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. You tell him you feel warmer already, yet the medic doesn't seem convinced, holding your arms and lifting your fingers to his intake. He ex-vents, once, twice, the air warm enough for you to feel past the fabric. He then lays your palms across his chest and scoffs, pulling you flush against him. Ratchet says that if you were cold, you should've said it ages ago.

(suggestive, mdni!)

Megatron kneeling before you, servos dextrous as they give your stockings an experimental tug upwards, before rolling them down to your knee in one fluid movement. He hovers his intake over your inner thigh, the stiff arch of his helm, dipping against the curve of your skin. Your breathing quickened, and he seemed to hear this, already moving to undo the other leg. He holds you like you'll break any second. As if you were a porcelain doll, a thing of glass. You tell him that you can be malleable. That you can learn to bend and embrace him — and he seems drunk at the thought. He pushed the straps of your chemise, thin and flimsy, down each shoulder. Easing you back on the bed. And the fabric pooled around your waist to reveal your chest, silk moving like water against the seams of his plating.

[zephyrchama]

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

[gammija]

tiefling jon's first day at the Archives

[turtleybeachin]

I've seen someone sharing the very last page to show "he's aware he's in a game". I wanted to share the last three pages to instead show: He's aware of the multiverse (because of COURSE he is), and spoke directly to we readers to confirm that all realities coexist simultaneously.

He's aware in one universe, his reality is our game.

He's aware we all have our own experiences, headcanons, and relationships with these characters. And they're all valid for our universe. Which coexists with all others.

Yes. He's aware he's in a game. But it's so much more than that.

So go off, fellow exchange students, and know that your fanfic and your fanart and your imaginary situations with your fictional others is all, by Barbatos' own assurances, a reality.

[misc-obeyme]

Some random demons are talking shit about MC at RAD. They're unaware of the fact that Mammon & Satan are in the classroom.

Mammon: Yo, you hearin’ this?

Satan: *not looking up from his book* It's unfortunate we have such idiotic classmates, isn't it?

Mammon: *stands up, grinning* Let’s rumble.

Satan: *snaps his book shut* Fine, but please never say that again.

Destruction ensued. Satan & Mammon refused to tell MC why they were hanging from the ceiling later that day.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[om-rambles]

He was dangerous when he was hungry, you knew that, didn't you? You saw how he'd ravage anything around him to quell his hunger. What made you think you were any different? Maybe it was the kindness in his eyes every time he looked at you, the smile in his lips every time you kissed, that made you forget that he was a demon. Your beliefs of him, the ideal version of him you have seemed to created, crumbled in on itself now. You didn't know what to think.

You sat there, slouched, in a slowly growing puddle of your own blood. Horror painted on the faces of the brothers surrounding you. What went wrong? You just wanted to help. He was so hungry, and you hated seeing him in pain- of course you'd reach out to help him. But no one could reach him now, he tore flesh off your body without hesitation, his brothers shoving him off before more damage could be done. He moved on so quickly, immediately going after something else to eat, as if hurting you was the most natural thing to him.

You didn't know how to move on from this- you couldn't move on from this. At the very least, you just hoped you wouldn't hate him every time you looked in the mirror.

[a-silly-stained-glass-anomaly]

[pokimoko]

haunting the narrative -> haunted by the narrative -> haunting the narrative -> haunted by

[chaosinterlude]

“lucifer is sadistic and mean!! he’s so serious and scary!!”

meanwhile,

he’s just a silly man who wishes for a domestic life with his partner and dog <3

[koolades-world]

Ok ok ok hear me out because this is gonna be so cute

All the brothers but Lucifer turning into babies/toddlers and it’s just the most adorable thing ever

Mammon is clinging to his older brother like he’s his life support(if Lucifer puts him down he cries) 🥺

Omg I’m gonna cry thinking about this

Ok so back to the original thing I was gonna say

Can you do headcanons / a fanfic of MC helping Lucifer deal with his now baby brothers and actually has a knack for it

Like they’re rocking them to sleep, helping feed them, playing with them, etc

MC also obviously takes pictures of Lucifer taking care of his brothers too and it’s the absolute cutest thing you’ve ever seen

The brother’s ages also depend on how old they actually are, so mammon is like 4, Levi is maybe 3, Satan is 2, Asmo is 1, and of course the twins are like a few months old

Belphie and Beel cannot be separated or they will start crying

OMG asmo saying his first words / taking his first steps

I’m actually gonna cry this is so cute

I can totally see Satan insisting he doesn’t wanna be near Lucifer but the moment Lucifer isn’t within his sights he starts throwing a tantrum because he does indeed want to be near him

HFHCKWBGHWJCUSHVZBC anyways-

(Can we also get his reaction to MC humming Belphie and Beel to sleep)

hi!! AWWW this is literally so cute!!!!

parent mc and luci <333

decided to do hcs and a drabble since this is just so so so adorable. i could totally be talked into writing more of this concept haha

please enjoy!

Mc and Lucifer take care of his brothers as babies

I've already decided this was def solomon's fault, just like most other shenanigans

lucifer was at home with his brothers, and you happened to be with diavolo, helping him with a redecoration project at the palace

he could hear his brother yelling in the living room, but suddenly, it all stopped. at first he wasn’t too alarmed, but as the silence persisted, he decided to get up and check it out since his older brother instincts began to kick in

solomon actually met him at his door, word vomited, and almost vanished on him. lucifer managed to catch him by the collar and made him repeat himself

when he finally explained what happened, lucifer almost dropped him out of shock and called you up because he needed major help

once you arrived, you were less upset than lucifer

while he was stressed already, you couldn't help but coo at how adorable they all were

mammon and levi were arguing about something you couldn't understand, satan was occupied with a pillow with tassels on the couch, asmo was playing with the ends of solomon's cape, and the twins were fast asleep

luci fully expects you to back out, and is prepared to deal with them on his own, but is surprised when you scoop up asmo and began playing with him

after that, he learns what a wizz you were with kids

when they had a problem, you were on top of it

the two of you took turns changing diapers and things like that but he was surprised on just how much you were able to handle on your own

his brothers also adored you and were always competing for you attention and showing you all of their things

anything you did, they would want to do too, which was both cute and useful

in the meantime, solomon was supposedly trying to find a reversal spell or potion of some kind, but lucifer didn't really believe him

a few times, you had visitors. luci only allowed diavolo, barbatos, luke, simeon, and solomon into the house. luke had lots of fun and helped you take care of the brothers, while lucifer and simeon talked and did other chores

over this time, luci learnt a lot about you, and grew to appreciate you evermore

"Mammon! Levi! Time for dinner. Come sit down please." You set out four plates of vegetables, pasta, and chicken nuggets for the older brothers. Asmo and Satan were already in their chairs, waiting for food to be served. While they ate, you and Lucifer would feed the twins from a bottle. You'd fallen into a routine and learnt exactly how each of the boys liked everything done.

The two, who were running around the dinner table, settled into their chairs beside each other, and began to eat. Granted, they were arguing the entire time, but as long as they ate their food, you could care less. The arguing became background noise quickly enough.

Once they were mostly finished eating, Lucifer took them upstairs to get ready for bed, while you handled the twins. To make things easier, the two of you decided to let them all sleep in Lucifer's bed. At first, you had wanted to keep Beel and Belphie in a crib in his office, so the others didn't wake them up, but they couldn't rest there for more than an hour or so without waking up and bawling their eyes out.

As Lucifer got his younger brothers into their pajamas for bed, they all began to act as they had every night when he did that routine with them nightly, such as beginning to get restless and whining about bedtime. As he did, and while he humored them, he remembered how thankful he was for you and how he wouldn't be able to do any of this without a child expert like you.

It took him a while, but eventually, he had them to bed, and while it took a little longer, you had the twins to bed temporarily, to give the two of you time to get ready for bed.

"Mc." Lucifer greeted you as you walked into the room with a nod.

"Hey! Everything all good?" You slid into the seat next to him and began eating the plate of food he had set out for you.

"Yes. They're all asleep but I had to promise Mammon cartoons tomorrow morning. Expect to be woken up early." He chuckled a little.

"Ahh, that's alright. Could be worse. Besides, you love him." You smiled at Lucifer. He had finished eating, and was just relaxing, and enjoying the silence. As you continued to talk to him, he sat and stared at you. After a while, you realize he hadn't said much of anything. "What's wrong? Something on my face?" You wiped your face with a napkin.

"No, no. I just wanted to tell you thank you." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Even if this is the rest of out lives, I wouldn't mind, as long as you're here." Lucifer had never said something so sweet so randomly to you.

"Luci! You're too kind. Thank you too." You threw your arms around him. You were thankful for him too, and while you didn't exactly know how to put it in words, you tried your best to put all your feelings into that hug.

Once the two of you were done there and ready for bed, you got the twins and joined his other brothers in bed. You were able to drift to sleep with a baby on your arms and with the thoughts of Lucifer's true affections for you.

[zephyrchama]

I hope demons have sayings that sound really weird and messed up to humans, just as there are many diverse sayings across varying human languages that don't always translate easily.

---01

Lucifer looked up warily as you entered his office before breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought you were Mammon, here to give me another headache."

You strided over to his desk to take a peek at what he was working on. It looked boring. "We both know you love your little brother. What could be so bad this time?"

Lucifer buried his eyes in his hands, brushing his hair aside with the tail end of a pen. "He's been gnawing on my toenails all week."

You coughed in surprise, smacking your chest to loosen up the muscles so that clarifying questions could be asked. "What? Why? How?"

"Just general Mammon buffoonery as usual. For some reason he's especially persistent this week."

"I have literally never seen Mammon chewing on toenails..." Your lip curled back in disgust just imagining it. "Has he... done this before?"

"What?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes, puzzled. "Oh." His gaze softened once he realized what was happening and he huffed in amusement. "Mammon hasn't actually been gnawing on my toenails. It means he's getting on my nerves, as you might say."

You clasped your hands together and sighed, letting a wave of relief wash over you. "Please. Just say that next time."

----02

"C'mon, c'mon! If ya move any slower I'm gonna exfoliate Diavolo!"

You were running as fast as you could, despite Mammon being the reason for your tardiness. You didn't have much to lose, but Mammon could be in deep trouble for missing another morning class.

You wheezed and almost ran into him, not realizing he kindly came back to carry you. "Wh..." After a few deep breaths, you choked out your question. "You're gonna what? To Diavolo?"

Mammon thrust his bag in your arms in a rush and picked you up instead. He spoke as he began running, "yeah. He's gonna have my neck if I'm late again!"

"I get that, but is Barbatos gonna make you wash him...? Or...?"

"Wha? Are you still half asleep? Is that why you're runnin' so slow?"

You leaned your head back against his upper arm to stare up at him in frustration. He couldn't ignore your pouty face inches from his own. Mammon's ears grew red. "Knock it off!"

"Tell me what you mean!" you ordered.

Mammon growled and ran even faster. "What do you mean? I'm just tryna get us to class!"

---03

You scooted your seat closer to Leviathan. He perked right up and froze as you approached to whisper in his ear.

"Levi, XYZ."

"W-w-what? Is that a code?"

"No, XYZ. PDQ."

He reached for a pen and began noting the letters down. "P... D... Q... Got it. What's next?"

You shook your head. "No, Levi, your barn door is open."

"What game are we talking about? I haven't picked up Moondrop Basin in a few weeks."

You made a zipping-up motion with your hand. "Your fly!"

"Oh." Leviathan ruffled the back of his hair and swatted the air around his head. "Is it gone now? I didn't see any bugs."

Though reluctant to be so blunt, you were out of euphemisms. "Levi, your pants' zipper is open."

With an "eep!" he turned away to fix his problem. It took a few seconds. In his haste, the zipper kept getting stuck. He was mad when he turned back around, his face colored crimson. "Why didn't you just tell me? Without turning it into... into some game!"

"I did! XYZ, PDQ, That's what we say in the human world! Examine your zipper, quick!"

"That's so dumb!" he seethed, punching his knee. "What a spumid flaming cabbage. Your sayings are so weird."

---04

"Ready for the next one?"

"Hit me," you told Satan.

He grimaced from across the desk, raising his eyes from the paper to look at you in concern. "What? No, I'm not going to do that."

"Not literally, it's a human saying. It means 'give it to me,' or something like that."

"Oh." Satan jotted that down in the margins of his own notes before reading off the next phrase on his list. "This is one of my favorites. It's a colorful saying, but if you're really mad at someone you can call them a snot-cobbling banshee. I like to say this while cursing their next three generations."

You wrote that down. "How often do you use this saying?"

"Not too often. Well, maybe once a week with my brothers. It goes along with this next phrase which implies someone is dangerously stupid. Barbed dingbat."

You nodded. You were truly learning so much on this cultural exchange program.

---05

Asmodeus came into the kitchen as you were preparing dinner and wrapped his arms around your neck. He looked exhausted.

"Careful, I've got a knife, don't want to accidentally nick you," you warned. "What's up? Long day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Asmodeus peeped over your shoulder to look at the vegetables you were cutting. "I'm so glad you're home. You know, all day, all I could think about was..."

He proceeded to say some incredibly vulgar things. Detailed depictions of debauchery. Irredeemable acts of indecency that cannot be repeated on this blog. It made you put the knife down in a tizzy.

"Are those more demon idioms?" You snickered awkwardly and wiped your hands on a towel. "I've been learning about your sayings recently. Can't say I've heard those ones yet."

"What? Oh, no." Asmodeus lifted your hand, raising it to his lips to lick a stray fleck of vegetable skin off your fingertip. "These aren't sayings, this is just stuff I've wanted to do all day."

---06

"I could just eat you up."

This was something Beelzebub said often, and something he repeated again today. His hands were occupied with a fresh four-pounder with cheese, but his eyes kept drifting from it to watch you shoot paper balls into a wastebasket.

"You know, humans have the same saying. Isn't that funny?" You bounced up to grab some of the wads on the floor that didn't make it into the basket, to try again.

Beelzebub swallowed the mass in his mouth. "Really?" he asked between bites. "I thought you guys stopped doing cannibalism, mostly."

"Uh." You missed your throw. What should have been an easy shoot bounced off the edge and rolled away from the wastebasket. "Yeah, we did. Just so we're on the same page, you're saying I'm cute, right?"

Beelzebub was concerningly quiet as he chewed.

---07

"Are you on your way back to class?" Belphegor stopped you in the hall. You hadn't even seen him there on the ground, curled up next to a shady pillar.

"Skipping class again?" you asked. "I thought you liked magic theory."

"Maybe," he yawned. "It's too easy sometimes."

Belphegor fished around in his pocket for a second before pulling out a tightly folded-up sheet of paper. He offered it up. "Can you turn this in for me? I don't want my grades dropping over late homework."

"Sure thing, but it might be better to turn it in yourself. I heard Barbatos is doing random checks in all classes this week. He'll notice you missing."

"Nah." Belphegor's head drooped down as he prepared to doze off again. "If you see him, just tell him I'm being flerchen in the garden."

That sounded innocent enough. "Okay. What does that mean?"

"Means I've got the sniffles," he lied.

---08

Barbatos' eyes grew big and he placed a hand over his heart, furthering crumpling Belphegor's homework sheet in the process. He looked around to make sure nobody overheard before leaning in. "I must ask that you never say that again."

Behind him, Diavolo's palm was clasped over his mouth as he struggled not to draw attention with loud guffaws. He had his back to the classroom, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"Why not?" You nervously shifted from one foot to another. You'd been had.

"It's not a topic I can explain here. Perhaps you and the Young Master should excuse yourselves for now. I'll come collect you both later."

Barbatos readily escorted you and Diavolo out of the room, shutting the door behind you so that class could begin without interruption.

"I'm just the messenger," you tried to defend yourself. Diavolo's fit of giggles was renewed. He grabbed on to your shoulder for stability while doubled over, trying to ride out the laughter.

"Did... did Belphegor tell you to say that?" He wiped a tear running down his face. You furiously nodded.

"Haha! Do you remember where he's hiding? I'd sure like to have a word with him."

You couldn't tell if Diavolo was going to praise Belphegor or tear him a new one. Perhaps a mix of both. However, the curiosity over what you said was overwhelming. You wanted to know the full extent of what it meant before seeing Belphegor again.

You decided to bargain with the prince. "I'll show you, but first you have to tell me what that means."

[three-realms-archive]

Dramatic Drama

“What the hell was that?!”

Mammon and Asmodeus yelled in unison, leaning forward to give threatening glares to the characters on screen. The pair continued to insult the male lead in particular, as he fell to his knees and grovelled for the forgiveness of his female love interest. They scolded the actor like he could somehow hear. The woman stood firm despite her former lover grovelling at her feet - and yet her face showed signs of pain and conflict.

You weren’t really sure what to expect, when you invited Mammon, Asmodeus and Satan to watch one of your favourite human-world telenovelas with you. They all seemed to love TV shows and books with plenty of drama, but you were surprised at the intensity of their reactions.

Well… Mammon’s and Asmo’s. Though you had a sneaking suspicion Satan was enjoying your watch session more than he let on.

“Whilst I’m not going to yell,” Satan began, “this is still idiotic. She literally just caught him being intimate with another woman, so how can she still stand there like -“

“Girl, you better not!” Asmo’s screeching cut Satan off as the Avatar of Lust clutched his fuzzy, pink comforter to his chest - Satan snapping his head back to the TV as the words “… but I still love you…” from the male actor floated through the speakers, along with some very dramatic guitar music. As he confessed his love for her, the woman turned look him in the eye with a softened gaze… much to the chagrin of your companions.

“No, no, no!!! Don’t you dare say you love that idiot!” Mammon growled, shaking his fist at the TV. You sighed.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying this, but maybe don’t be too loud. We’re right next to Lucifer’s room…”

“WAIT!!!” Everyone (now including a very emotionally-invested Satan) half-shushed, half-yelled. The woman had offered the man her hand, pulling him to his feet. The three demons on the sofa leaned forward, in nervous anticipation. Asmo’s comforter was now on the floor, forgotten. Mammon was on one side of you, clinging to your arm like a lifeline. Satan was on your other side, eyes wide, your sleeve balled into his fist so hard the threads had begun to unravel. You decided to just lean back in your seat and enjoy the scene, knowing what was to come next. The woman spoke.

“I…”

Satan was seething. Asmo was chanting seriously under his breath:  ”Don’t do it, girl - don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t -“

“I… I…!”

Mammon had leaned so far forward, he’d slipped off the edge of the sofa - and onto the floor alongside Asmo’s comforter. He hadn’t made any sound, though, chanting with Asmo and gritting his teeth as -

“… I love you, too.”

And hell broke loose.

Satan began to throw things - pillows, food and books. Mammon threw his hands up and started yelling at a now-cracked screen; a thick book (courtesy of the Avatar of Wrath) lodged into the glass. A shrieking, livid Asmo caused the door to creak open only a few seconds later.

…

… A few seconds too late, as Lucifer opened the door to a TV remote hitting him smack in the head.

(inspired by a telenovela from my childhood that i've been rewatching, lol. something like this happened to the second male ad female leads, who are love interests - and i remember being so mad, especially since i shipped the second male lead so hard with the main female lead. i was also mad because they repeated this like multiple times throughout the series and i was like, girl no why this is the tenth time you've done this exact same thing. i was also also mad because the second leads being romantic with each other started so ridiculously late in the show i couldn't get behind it - and all of that culminated my young self raging even tho the show was so so good if you just take out that romance)

[varpusvaras]

Talia shouldn't have felt anything for the boy.

She shouldn't have. Perhaps, at the most, she should've felt curiosity and anticipation, nothing more. Curiosity for what the secrets behind the boy's resurrection were, and anticipation for what use he could possibly be to her.

She shouldn't have felt anything more.

But she did. She did when she watched him move, the ways his father had taught him still shining through. She did when she watched him just stand there, black hair and blue eyes so reminiscent of someone else, even if the rest of the features were not there.

She did when he would seek her out, the only kind touch he could find, one that she had not planned on even giving out in the first place.

Perhaps she had become soft, or perhaps it was the familiarity behind it all, that ended up filling out the gaps, making her see things that were not there to begin with. The boy was not her Beloved's blood, not like her Damian was, but-

But he was still her Beloved's son.

She couldn't deny feeling something when her Damian reached out for the boy, not wary or suspicious, like he was towards everyone else from the sheer necessity of it. She watched as Damian closed his hand around the boy's fingers, and she was not able to push the feeling away.

She knew the feeling she felt, when she watched Jason hold onto Damian's hand.

Perhaps this was just what being a mother felt like.

She watched them, and she thought of Jason, alone and in pain, and it was all too easy to think of Damian in his place, at the mercy of the monster that had been allowed to keep its humanity.

The rest came easy, afterwards. She was a mother, after all. It was easy to just push Jason into the same position as Damian when it came to her care, much easier than keeping them separate.

Slicing the monster's throat came even easier.

"Are you content now?" Her Father asked her. "Now that you have taken your...revenge? Preventative measures?"

She would've much rather called it simply mother's love.

She didn't tell her Father that.

"Yes", was the only answer she gave.

And when Jason came to the surface of the Pit, with his eyes green and his hands reaching desperately for her, Talia took them into hers with the same ease.

The words came easy as well.

"Do not fear, my child", she told him. "You have been avenged."

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[ephie-om]

Simeon trudges along the soft carpet to answer Purgatory Hall's door. He vaguely remembers someone was supposed to visit, but in his mind's haze he can't seem to recall who. Between the endless explosions from Solomon's room and late nights comforting Luke after a long day, the angel was exhausted.

The front door creaks open to reveal your smiling face. Your smile quickly drops as you take in Simeon's state. He realizes how he must look. Disheveled clothes, oily skin, probably several stains on his robes. He's fairly sure he should be ashamed, but he's too tired. "I apologize, I'm not exactly... put together." He flashes you a quick smile, hoping to dispel your worries.

You tsk at him and gently push past him into the house. An alarm goes off in his mind, a bit too late, that he should be a gracious host and invite you in. But since it's you, he supposes, there's not much point in telling you to make yourself at home. He watches you drop your bag on the floor and shove it out of the way with your foot. You're looking at him, he realizes. Expectantly. "Um... I'm sorry. What?" Your lips twist (in what? Worry? Disappointment? Has he done something wrong?) and you let out a breath.

"I said, I know your roommates have been getting to you." He nods quickly, eager to show he's listening this time. "So I took the liberty of finding them excuses to not be here tonight. They're safe and in good company, but that leaves you here. Alone, with no distractions." You grin at him, almost evilly. "Which means you don't have any excuse to refuse my help."

You make quick work of boiling water for tea and running a bath. Simeon, having been sternly commanded to not help in any way, is perched awkwardly on a stool in the kitchen. He watches you rush back and forth between rooms, making sure neither the kettle nor the tub can overflow. It's almost amusing, watching you run about like this all for him. Yes, he thinks, it's amusing, and endearing, but if he thinks too long about that he might really say something he shouldn't.

You push a mug full of hot tea towards him from across the counter and stare him down until he drinks. It's warm, the warmest, sweetest thing he's tasted for weeks. He didn't even think he liked this blend. There must be something about your fingers making it that dripped pure nectar into it. He sips slowly, letting his tongue wrap around every drop. He wouldn't dare waste a bit of the liquid gold you'd given him. The silence stretches over the kitchen like a warm blanket and he closes his eyes as he drinks. Your footsteps fade as you go to check the bathroom and he finds himself missing the sound of your breathing.

He drains his mug and heaves himself to his feet. You meet him midway to the bathroom and place a warm hand on his shoulder, guiding him down the hall. Only his angel sensibilities stop him from stripping down as soon as he sees the tub. He sees a thick layer of tiny bubbles floating over the water's surface, and a gentle floral scent rises up to greet him. He swears he could kiss you here and now.

You face him, hand on his arm, and he finds every detail of your lips as you speak. "I don't mean for this to be awkward or anything, but I've been tired like this before and I know how hard simple things can be. So I wanted to tell you if you need any help with this, I'll be right here." You turn to walk out, but he catches hold of your hand.

"Please. It's..." He trails off, embarrassed. "My hair. I don't even know how long it's been since I've washed it." You nod and respectfully face the wall as he disrobes. The noise that leaves his mouth as he lowers himself into the water would be sinful anywhere else. He feels the tension is his back loosen as the warm ripples lap against his skin. When did he get so tired? When had moving a single muscle become such a chore?

You settle on the edge of the tub and gently tilt his head back. He hears you rummage around for his shampoo and finally smells that familiar teakwood scent that drifts down from your fingers. You work his hair into a lather, so slowly he thinks you must be trying to put him to sleep. He doesn't even want to look at what color the bubbles must be coming off his hair, so he shuts his eyes and leans back into your hands. You chuckle softly and rinse his head ever so carefully, making sure to shield his eyes. He hears a generous amount of conditioner plop into your palm and you indulge him in what's practically a scalp massage, going over his head with your fingertips again and again.

You gasp softly and your fingers stop. Simeon's eyes snap open in fear, imagining what horrors you could've found in his hair. "I'm so sorry, I knew it was dirty, I shouldn't have-"

"You're glowing."

"Sorry?"

"Simeon, you're glowing."

His arm sloshes up from the depths of the tub as he checks for himself, and sure enough, an ochre glow emanates from under his skin. "Ah. That must be a quirk specific to angels. It's entirely subconscious, because it only happens in times of utmost happiness." You smile wide, fascinated as he explains.

"So that means..." You trail off expectantly.

He blushes and settles back under the water, an excuse to tear himself away from that blinding smile. "It means you make me happy." he says simply. You're silent for a moment as you work and he wonders if that was too much. Your fingers caress the hinge of his jaw and tilt his head back again, and he opens his eyes just in time to be met with your lips pressed to his forehead. It only lasts for a brief moment, but he thinks he could live like this for eternity.

Neither of you say anything as Simeon finally stands and dries off. Neither of you need to. Your hand wraps around his arm and he finds himself not caring the least but about where you're taking him. The two of you end up on the living room couch as you painstakingly detangle his hair while a late-night reality show plays softly in the background. The manners that the Celestial Realm has taught him over centuries remind him he ought to say thank you. He takes a breath, opens his mouth and shuts it again, silently. The silence is comfortable. In a world where everyone talks and no one ever listens, silence is trust. And right now he trusts you more than anything else in the three realms.

[obae-me]

He looks at you like artistry. A contemporary piece he's never seen before. Taking in every detail with calculating eyes. Wondering what intentions the skillful hands of the cosmos had in mind when making you.

He wishes to know your story, the happiness that makes the music of your voice, the experiences settled in the sculpt of your frame, the tragedies brushed into the strokes of your irises.

The complexities of your being astound him, mesmerize him. Every new fact he learns about you adds another stanza to your sonnet.

To him, you are art in its purest form. Not one part can exist without the other. The greatest of symphonies would not be complete without their rests. He adores all of you.

How foolish he was at first, to think you were just a simple creature. Oh, the things he has taken for granted. When did he become so blind? Was it his Pride? Or had he simply been breathing for so long, that the sweet orchestra of life became dull to his ears? How long had it been since he stopped to watch people commune in the streets? Or sat a while to watch the trees sway from his window? Or pondered on the meaning of a wonderful word?

Excitement. How many centuries since he's felt like that? Filled with a rather humiliating child-like giddiness. But it's...invigorating. Everything stands out to him fresh, avant-garde. You remind him that there's still so much for him to discover.

A change in the wind, the turning of a page to a whole new chapter, a swelling crescendo, you are enticing. Every second spent with you leaves him craving more.

All he desires is to be in your presence. To see your colors. To hear your melody. To bask in the opus of your existence. It was only a matter of time before you would manage to become his everything, his obsession, his passion. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

For Lucifer is a connoisseur, and to him, you are nothing less than the crown of luxury.