#perhaps need to look into the various kinds of satanism again

[meme-loving-stuck]

i remember being brought up christian like, almost concerned that i never felt a connection to any of the shit they were talkin about,

and when i was younger i was like "oh no! am i bad for not feeling connected to god?? is it bad i feel like my dead mom doesnt talk to me or watch over me?? am i horrible for pretending?????"

but turns out i just had Autism Powers that made me immune to it and i was able to completely sever myself from the idea of being Christian at the ripe old age of like 13. and it was such a HUGE comfort to see that there were all these other beliefs and spiritual sort of things that other people chose to believe in and didnt necessarily treat their beliefs as COLD HARD UNDENIABLE FACT the way christians treat the existence of god & heaven & hell

like now that i am older i know i was in fact traumatized by the culturally catholic beliefs my family held & forced on us all, but i am really immensely grateful that my child self looked at all the other aspects of christianity that would horrify most other children into behaving/conforming, and basically just went, "okay, source?"

and that was the end of that

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

The Separation

Ao3 link

The Seer

Summary: After their encounter with Kuma, the Straw Hats have been catapulted off to various islands around the world. What do they do, and how do they react? Set right after The Seer, second in The Strength of Truth series

Chapter 1: Brook

“Oh my,” Brook says, scratching his head. “Now, how on earth have I gotten myself in this situation?”

The group around him blinks up at him, shocked.

“If I may ask,” Brook says, scrabbling for the dregs of his politeness. “Who are you? And how did I get here?”

One moment, he had been celebrating. One moment, he’d pulled out his violin, his crew around him, suffused in the thrill of victory and relief of survival. One moment, he’d put bow to string, drawn out the first note to the sounds of his name, and then—

And then everything around him had vanished, faces of his new family winking out of existence, and he’d been on his back, sailing through the sky for days and days and days without knowing why or how or where he was going…

Well. Brook has been through a lot in his (un)life. He’s seen too much and too little all at once. He’d experienced the very depths of human loneliness and come out the other side with his good nature firmly intact, grasped at hard even with bony hands.

This? This may have broken him. Time will tell.

He looks back at the group. They stand around him in a circle, dressed in identical black robes, hoods thrown over half-shadowed faces. Despite that, Brook can still see their gawking expressions, mouths open, eyes wide.

That doesn’t bode well for him.

He waits a few more beats, counting the rests, hoping they can provide him with information. When the silence stretches a little longer, he breaks it on the fourth bar, clearing his (non existent) throat. “Excuse me,” He tries again, letting a bit of his desperation leak through. “Does any of you, perhaps, know about how and why I got here? I was pulled away from my people quite suddenly, and I need to get back to them as soon as possible, I’m afraid.”

His gaze ticks around the crowd, landing on a young woman who holds eye contact. Her eyes widen at the look, then dart down to Brook’s feet.

He glances down himself, sees the smoking remains of a symbol of some kind. “Ah,” He says, looking back up at the crowd. “Did you summon me here, perhaps?”

At his words, the crowd seems to react as one.

They surge forward, hoods falling back from their heads as they fall to their knees in front of him, bowing low. They all start babbling as one, but Brook can pick out a very distinct word, repeated again and again..

Satan.

Ah. Brook thinks, a sense of dread rising up in his chest. This may prove to be very troublesome indeed.

-

Brook, in fact, had not been wrong.

After numerous attempts to get the truth out of the group (which, to Brook, seem like some sort of cult), he thinks he can surmise a few conclusive details:

1. They think he is Satan, or a demon of some sort. Brook can use this, perhaps. For now, he will neither confirm nor deny his situation.

2. The cult (for it is, in fact, a cult) want to use him in sort of revenge plot. They had reached out in desperation, want to save their friends and family from some sort of rival group. And, well…Brook can’t fault them for that. He really can’t.

3. They have no idea about where he was, nor do they know what has become of his crew. This detail is a little bit more concerning.

4. Most concerning of all, however, is the fact that he still doesn’t know how he got here.

The cult seems to believe that they have summoned him. He can’t rule that firmly out of the realm of possibility, but they also believe he is Satan, so he can’t say he has a lot of trust in their ability to get the facts straight.

So, of all the facts swirling around in his skull, this is the one that stands out to him most, begging to be resolved. Because if he knows how he got here, he might know how the others are doing. Not knowing might just kill him (again), it really would. Just when he had gotten them. He cannot lose them (again). He cannot.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the cult leader, who looks up at him hopefully. “Please,” the man begs. “Please. Can you help us? We will give you anything you want.”

Brook considers this.

“I want to go back,” He says, finally. “I will help you save your people. Then, you will help me leave. I have other responsibilities I must attend to.”

He doesn’t know where to even start. But, if he can somehow make his way back to Sabaody, he can begin to find his way back to his crew. He has no skin, but he feels cold without them.

The cult leader nods enthusiastically. “Of course!” He says. “I’m certain you have duties beyond the realm of the understanding of us mere mortals. We will send you on your way right away afterwards.”

“Erm, of course,” Brook says. For the first time since he landed, his fingers tighten over this violin. He lifts it up. “I believe this calls for some—”

Something flutters out of his violin, sinking gently to the ground.

He lowers the violin, a frown (unseen) growing over his face. “Hmm,” He hums, matching his tone to the rattling of his bones. “Now what could this be?”

He stoops suddenly, making the cult jump back in surprise. Brook scoops up the item from the ground, holding it carefully in his hands, then freezes.

He knows what this is. But how…

Brook peers closer at the Vivre Card. He knows what these are, but he has never owned one. And yet, here one is, on his person.

A chill runs down his spine. He disappears, then reappears on an unknown island, with a foolproof navigational tool on him? Either he is extremely lucky, or is falling into the world’s most obvious trap.

However, no matter what this could lead to, he has no choice but to follow. If it means even a chance of getting back to his crew, he will do whatever it takes.

Brook tucks the card into a suit pocket for safekeeping. “Right!” He says again, patting his suit pocket twice. The cult members all flinch again, in unison. He lifts the violin to his chin. “This calls for some music!”

The cult leader raises a hand. “M-music, my lord of darkness?”

“Why, yes,” Brook says, playing a warm up arpeggio. “We’ll need music before go in there together, you know?”

He waits for a yohohoho, but finds that he can’t quite get it out.

“Together?” The leader replies, horrified. Brook doesn’t reply, taking a deep breath into his next song.

-

Things had gone hilariously off the rails, as they usually do. Brook really can’t complain, though. He has nobody to blame but himself.

It had seemed like a foolproof plan, at first. Get the cult to stand up for themselves and their loved ones, and then reorient their belief system to rely on themselves and their own actions. Why, they’d be so grateful to him, they’d let him go! Possibly provide him with a ship! The Longarm tribe would be so terrified of him, they would leave him alone and let him go. It was brilliant!

This was not what ended up happening, however.

Instead, Brook is sitting in a cage with the Longarms, who peer down at him with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. “We can sell it off,” One of them says, tapping at his chin. “We could probably make a killing off of it. It’s a very unique specimen.”

“Not at all,” Brook says, waving his arms. “I’m quite an average deceased individual, I’m afraid. Not worth much. I’ll just get out of your hair, and then maybe—”

“You can talk,” The enterprising Longarm interrupts him. “Which is very much not average. You’re staying here.”

Brook feels panic beat at his ribs like a drum. It’s out of rhythm, and gives him a headache. “But..”

“No buts,” The man snaps. He reaches in his belt, grabbing a sheaf of papers and tossing them in the cage. “Read this, maybe it’ll occupy your time, and your babble.”

Brook doesn’t reach out to take the paper. The bars of the cage feel like they’re closing in on him, and he doesn’t have the capability to be boxed in anymore. He doesn’t. He can’t.

The bars seem to dip further, things in his sight getting hazier. His breathing (breathing? He breathes?) stutters once, twice, then—

Luffy’s face springs into his mind, unbidden. The large smile, even in his imagination, is enough to calm him.

He shakes his head, hair bouncing, hat swiveling. “Pull yourself together, Brook!” He chastises himself. “Losing your head, at your age! You will never be alone again, he promised you that. You will see them again. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

He hears someone whisper “It’s talking to itself,” before he reaches out, grabbing the paper. May as well occupy himself for now, while he thinks of a plan. They’ll wait for him, if they’re still there. He knows they will.

He flips open the paper, grounding himself with the news. His eyes trip over the headlines…ah, it seems they’re reporting on the war already. Maybe he’ll get to see more details, ones he hadn’t witnessed in person…

He turns the page, considering, then pauses.

He blinks (without eyelids), and a smile (without lips) breaks out over his face.

Brook leaps up, lifting the paper aloft in excitement! “Yes!” He cackles, shaking it in the air, elation hitting him with a thump. “Of course! I knew it, I knew you were alright! Aye-aye, Captain! Aye-aye!” He takes a deep breath, then, laughs from the pit of his soul “Yohohohohohoho!”

He looks back down to see the crowd of Longarms staring at him in confusion.

“Oh, my new friends!” Brook says, twirling his newspaper back down. “What a wonderful day we find ourselves in! Meeting new people is always such a joyous thing, don’t you think?”

The Longarms continue to stare at him, baffled. Fear seems to creep into some of the scattered expressions.

Brook tears at the newspaper, carefully folding the scrap and tucking it in his pocket, next to the Vivre card. “Now,” Brook says, picking his violin off his belt, lifting the bow alongside it. “Who would like to hear some music?”

The Longarms continue to stare at him as he opens his mouth, finally completing the note that he had started all the way back in Sabaody.

-

Over the next few days, Brook plans.

Well. Plans and plays, thoughtfully fingering the notes as he gets his thoughts in order. Because, well. He has the time now, doesn’t he? He can sit and plan and consider what to do during this time, because it’ll be so long…Oh, well. He’s waited longer before, much longer.

The others…he doesn’t know if they’re together or not, but he hopes they don’t get even a whiff of the past loneliness that he’s experienced before. Some of them, all of them really, are still so young. And poor Usopp, who had recently had a huge change of circumstances, needs stability and support now more than ever…

Brook shakes his head again, plucking out some staccato notes. No need to fall into despair when it’s unnecessary! All he can do now is figure out what he can do in the meantime, how he can come back better, improved. What can he do, then? What skills does he have that most benefit the crew?

“Excuse me?” Brought out of his thoughts, he finished the phrase before putting his violin down, pinning the Longarm who had talked to him earlier with a look.

“Yes?” He asks, eyebrows raising (spiritually, yohohoho!). The sudden politeness is surprising, and more than a little suspicious.

“Well,” the Longarm says, shifting nervously. “We were speaking…the rest of us, and all. Do you…do you play much?”

Brook looks down at his violin. “As a matter of fact,” He says, feeling generous. “I do. My role in my crew is musician, and I take it very seriously and gratefully every day. Music is the soul of life, you know.”

The Longarm doesn’t seem moved by his words, but he seems interested. “Say,” He says, cocking his head to the side. His eyes sparkle with…something, some nebulous intention. “What kind do music do you play?”

Usopp flashes through his mind briefly, what music do you like? “I play everything,” Brook replies, “Everything you could possibly think of.”

“Hm,” The Longarm says, eyes sparkling again. “How are you with rock music?”

-

The Longarms plan seems to have changed on a dime. Brook learns that this group seems to be largely profit driven, following whatever road will take them to the most money. And, it seems, they have determined that he will be more profitable with them than away from them.

Nami would’ve been proud, he thinks.

The Longarm who’d been talking to, Sancrin, had declared his intention to become his manager and, in time, make him a star. “It’ll be an investment,” Sancrin had informed him through the bars of his cage. “You’ll need to work hard, especially at the start. But if we work together, I think this could be a very fruitful partnership. And with a very big payout by the end.”

Brook hadn’t had to think too hard about accepting. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all! And, he could use it to improve himself…he’s the ship’s musician, is he not? And so, he should improve his musical abilities.

He sticks out a bony hand through the bars. “Deal. We should discuss terms, though.”

An unsettling grin spreads over Sancrin’s face. He grasps Brook’s hand, giving it a solid shake. “That we will,” He says. “Welcome to the team.”

-

It takes them a few days, but they work out what Brook thinks is a fairly good deal.

Sure, they don’t let him out of his cage until it’s done, but that’s fine. He has the time, and it’s all fine now. He has a goal, and a direction, and an order to follow.

Then, he meets the team.

He has not one, not two, but three managers. Sancrin is head of his team, with final say on all matters. Eryu is head of styling, music, and his brand and marketing. Jiryu is in charge of the financial end: budget, logistics, and merchandise.

Well. Brook knows why they insisted upon a 70/30 split for profits now.

“Do we really need a team for this?” He asks, during their fourth official meeting. “I haven’t even released a single song yet.”

“We need to be prepared,” Sancrin says. “We’re going to hit the ground running. The minute we have the music, we’re going to market this heavily, and we’re going to do a tour to recoup the costs.”

“A tour?” Brook asks, baffled. “Already?”

Sancrin shrugs. “That’s what makes the most money with musical acts,” He says. “And it can be done. Ticket sales, merchandise? But we need to get started on this now. Can you have a set of songs done by the end of the week?”

“Yes,” Brook says, tuning into the music in his head. “Yes, I can.”

-

Eryu tells him they’re going to make him a rockstar.

Brook can’t argue that, nor can he contain his excitement at the prospect. It will take a lot of work, but this is the work he was made for. Finally putting the music is in head down on the page, making it a concrete oeuvre? It’s brilliant. He will return to his crew a more developed musician, and that’s all he can ask for.

However, there is more to becoming a rock star than the music, as he is quick to discover.

“Let’s talk about the image,” Sancrin says, and Brook wants to throw his head out of the window to escape the never ending conversation.

“Can’t hurt to go with the classics,” Eryu says, steepling his fingers together. “Leather jacket and pants, motorcycle, fire imagery. Plus, he’s a skeleton, so the aesthetics would fit perfectly.”

“It’s predictable, though,” Sancrin argues. “That’s what everyone’s expecting with a skeleton as the star. We need something new, something fresh.”

“Something cheap,” Jiryu pipes up.

Brook feels a headache begin to thunder through his skull. “Gentlemen,” He begins. “We won’t need much, really, just…”

“Anyway,” Sancrin says, interrupting. “We’ll need to decide on this first before we do any concept art, so this has to happen ASAP. Because…”

Brook tugs at his still meticulous afro. The din is giving him a headache, and he tugs and tugs and tugs until…

There’s a small cracking sound, and his Afro suddenly follow his hand, flopping with it to the other side of his head.

There’s a sudden silence, and Brook sees all three faces turn in his direction and stay there, eyes wide, mouths agape. There’s a sound like creaking hinges, and Brook realizes he’s holding…he’s holding part of his skull. He has opened his skull like a lid.

Brook eeps, swinging his head shut again in a panic. It clicks back into place, and he feels whole again. That was…that was…

Experimentally, he pulls at his head again. This time, it comes easier: the movement is smooth, with minimal creaking. And again, he’s holding his head open, skull exposed to the elements.

He looks at his audience, who are still staring at him with rapt attention. Well. Might as well take advantage of the fact that he finally has an audience.

Brook clears his throat. “I have a solution,” He says, voice echoing out from his open skull. “I don’t suppose you have any heart shaped sunglasses available, do you? And I had been considering a feather boa…”

-

A few weeks later, Brook wakes up.

Not literally. Brook had, of course, been doing his regular sleep (like the dead, of course…yohohoho) and waking up to the grind of his new and temporary career, as always.

No, instead, Brook had woken up to the reality of his situation. He’d been worrying over the bridge of one of his songs, going back-and-forth on whether or not to commit to the key change, before being struck with his revelation.

The string of his violin falls from nerveless (even more so than usual) fingers onto the sheets of music on the table while a concerning truth blunder its way into his mind:

This is not enough.

Because, frankly, it is not. He is the crew musician, yes. But being a better musician would not have stopped what had happened earlier. He doesn’t know how, or why, but he knows that improving his musicals skills would not have prevented his disappearance, nor whatever it is that had happened after that to bring him here. And, to make sure that it never happens again, he has to get better. Not just at music, but at…something, anything.

Better combat skills might suffice. He can work on his swordsmanship…he’s not the ship’s main swordsman, yes, but surely getting to improve would benefit the crew during battle…

There’s also the matter of his devil fruit.

Brook had been told, then witnessed, Luffy activating different gears of his devil fruit. He has seen Robin’s versatility in using hers, and Chopper’s ability to manipulate his transformations to serve his purposes.

If they can do it, why not him?

Surely there is more to it than this. He has immortality, yes. But there must be more to it than that. He has speed and a lightness on his feet, yes. But that is a matter of being dead, not of the devil fruit itself. Because, at the base of it all, his devil fruit did not affect his body, like it did for Luffy and Chopper and Robin.

No, Brook’s devil fruit affected his soul. His soul was what had lived, what had gone searching for his body after he had died. And that has to mean something, right?

His recent skull discovery has only made him more determined to actually try now, to embrace all of what he is. His crew needs it. He has to push himself, explore everything he can do.

And this means. Well. This means he’ll have to try to go back to that moment. The moment that he had died.

There’s almost nothing Brook wants to do less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it does work, and he gets stuck? What if it takes him decades to get back to himself again? He doesn’t have the time. He can’t do that again. His crew needs him.

He’s not going to kill himself, obviously. That would not be particularly helpful. But maybe…maybe he’d be able to figure out how to move out of his body on his own, without death.

Brook reaches down into himself. His reaches past the surface thoughts in his head, past the music still trailing around his head, past the physical sensations that echo around in his being, down and down and down until he hits…something.

He thinks be brave and then pulls, trying to coax the core of himself deep down up and out to the surface, scrabbling against the fear and natural response and his own soul trying to slot himself back where it belongs.

He keeps pulling and pulling and pulling and then…

And then something pops and he hears a jumble of bones collapse, and he’s not looking down at the table anymore. He’s looking down at himself, prone on the table, arm stretched and hand dangling over the side.

His (soul) mouth just about drops open. He’s done it. He’s done it.

Brook looks back down, and the memory of his reincarnation comes thundering back. Panicking, he moves (he can move!) and shoots back towards his body. His senses reorient and suddenly he’s staring down at the dark wood of the table again. He shoots up in place with a gasp, holding his hands out in from of him and moving each finger individually.

Everything’s working. He’s fine, it’s fine. He’s back.

Brook collapses back into his seat. It had worked. He had controlled his soul on command! Now, it may hav been too much now, but he can experiment with this, he can see—

“Hey,”

Brook’s soul nearly leaps back out of his bones at Sancrin’s entrance. The Longarm hesitates as he enters Brook’s space, frowning at him. “Are you staring off into the distance? We have a time crunch here!”

Brook shakes his head. “Yes,” He says. He declines to mention his breakthrough. “I’m almost done, there’s just a little tweak I have to make.”

“Well, make it,” Sancrin sits down across from him, tapping his fingers on the table. “And we still need your name. We can’t move forward without your stage name.”

“I told you I—”

“And I told you,” Sancrin interrupts. “We can’t use your name, or epithet. This is a rebrand. We need something new.”

Brook thinks about it for a second. “And you’re sure you’ll be able to get my name out to the entire world?”

Sancrin snorts. “That’s the whole point of this operation.”

Brook grins internally, as always. Perfect.

“Soul King.”

Sancrin frowns at him. “What?”

“My name,” Brook says. Maybe he can get out a message to his crew this time. “Soul King Brook. There you go. This way, we can use that crown too…”

-

It takes Brook two months to finish his album. It takes his team two weeks to get a distribution deal.

He can’t help but be impressed. They really had known what they were talking about when they had presented him with the deal.

They tell him to wait, and he does. He waits, he practices his music, and he trains.

Sometimes, he trains with the sword. He’s not the crew’s main swordsman, no, but he can’t let his skills get rusty either.

The Longarms are interested in his sword practice. In between bouts of fighting with distributors and getting deals, they sit in silence and watch him run through his fencing drills with the same interest and intensity that they show his music.

Brook is gratified with the attention. He sees his sword as an extension of his musicality: his sword fighting style is half dance, half technique, all deadly: it’s part of the performance that makes up the Brook-ness of himself, and he tends to overlook it more than he should.

A few weeks in, he sees the three of them in a huddle right outside his workspace. He ignores them, trying to focus on running though his exercises. He still doesn’t fully trust them, probably never well, so seeing all three of them scheming is enough to rattle his bones.

He soon hears them approach him, with Sancrin interrupting his set with a “Hey, Soul King!”

Brook stops, moving to sheath his sword. “What is it?” He asks, trying to hide his suspicions.

“Stop,” Sancrin says, pointing at Soul Solid. “Keep that out for a moment.”

Brook hesitates, but obliges. His bony fingers grip the sword tightly, but he keeps it in his hand, unsheathed.

Sancrin moves to Soul Solid, lifting it and eyeing it critically. “Good sword,” He comments. “We could use this as part of your brand, you know.”

“Good,” Brook says, jovial. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Sancrin eyes him suspiciously. “Hm,” He says, then “Needs sharpening, though. Give that over, and it’ll be sharper than the day it was given to you.”

Brook’s fingers tighten further. “It’s plenty sharp as is,” He comments. “Why, it’s so sharp, in fact, that—”

“Save it for the show,” Sancrin interrupts. He lets go of Soul Solid. “We’re well known for swords, you know. Look at any single one of our blades. They’re sharp. You’re representing us, so your sword needs to reflect that.”

Brook ponders this a moment. Their swords are sharp. And if he could give Soul Solid an upgrade, then, well…

“Fine,” Brook says. He keeps his hand on this sword. “I accept your generous offer. However, I would like to follow and see the process, if permitted. I do not wish to be parted from my sword, I’m afraid.”

Sancrin seems to wrestle with this for a moment. “Fine,” He concedes, gesturing for Brook to follow. “On the way, I have to run some ideas by you. What’s your limit when it comes to stage lightning, and do you overheat easily?”

-

Of course, sword fighting isn’t the only thing that Brook works on while he waits.

In the dead of the night, and in the quiet moments, he also works on his soul control.

At first, he starts by testing his range. It turns out he can go pretty far, so he spends some time wandering, exploring the immediate surroundings, and getting a good picture of the Longarms territory. He also finds out he can pass through objects with ease, which is also extremely useful.

Jiryu had told them that they would be leaving soon. Four months in, and his music had already already spread across the grand line, or so he’s told. He hopes it’s reached his crew, wherever they are. He hopes hearing him can bring them comfort.

He spends the time he has before setting sail again to anchor his body and allow his soul to wander further and further, testing his limits. He learns pretty quickly that his wandering soul is like his wandering body, and doesn’t come with a special or innate sense of direction. And so, he needs to pay attention or he could lose his body and that wouldn’t be good for anyone involved, would it?

Brook thinks it’s a good thing that Zoro had not eaten his devil fruit. If so, he probably never would’ve been able to find his way back to his body.

Regardless, this new development will surely be a useful one. This way, if he ever gets separated from the crew again, he can search for them whenever he likes. In the future, he’ll be able to find them again, and that’s all that matters.

He tries even now, sometimes. Sometimes, he feels himself begin to wander further than intended, trying to see if he can see a familiar face, before catching himself and feeling himself back in.

Six months in, and they’ve gathered enough funds to be able to officially start the tour. Brook bids farewell to the Longarm tribe and sets off with his three managers, a smile on his skull and a yohohoho playing in his heart. He’s one step closer now.

Sancrin, Eryu, and Jiryu tell him that they’re doing an official tour of the Grand Line. Minus the new world, of course. They simply don’t have the funds to insure a show in the new world. This suits Brook just fine…he doesn’t want to go there without his crew anyway.

Brook had always dreamed of being star, what musician child didn’t? But actually seeing it happen in front of him, walking up backstage to prepare for a performance and hearing the murmurs of thousands of people…fans, actual fans? Well. It’s enough to make even a nonexistent heart soar.

It also makes him think of another aspect of stardom. “Say,” He asks Sancrin, twirling his bow in his hands. “Would you say that there’s a lot of ladies out there in the crowd?”

Sancrin gives him glare. “Of course,” He says. “You’re a rock star, aren’t you?”

Brook lifts his bow high into the air. “Oh,” He says. “This is going to be fun!”

-

Nine months in, and Brook is a star.

His life consists of constant travel, stop after stop, with his free time being eaten up by practice with his music and his sword and his soul, still wandering, still testing, still searching.

Brook is exhausted. But it’s a good exhaustion, one that pushes at him and says do better get better be better. This is what he’s needed all along.

Still. Every night, he searches the crowds, hoping to see a familiar face. He never does, but he searches anyway.

When he finds one, it’s not at all what he expected.

They’re getting closer to Sabaody now, slowly but surely coming up to the destination of the tour’s final stop. Brook had made that part of the deal with his team, had insisted on it. They hadn’t put up too much of a fuss, which doesn’t bode well for him. He can only wait and see what that could lead to.

As such, he’s considerably more tense and also more excited as he heads into tonight’s concert. He does his usual pre-show “meditation” (aka, some soul wandering, examining the crowd) but he isn’t expecting anything. He takes great care to search though, coming closer than he’s ever dared, trying to find ways to stay as invisible as possible while still getting a good look…

He passes over a face, and pauses, right in the middle of a tree trunk. He slowly backs back up, trying to get a better view without being too conspicuous. It’s not someone he knows, but…the face, it’s familiar, it’s…

He flips through his memories, trying to place the face below him, and—

Ah.

An image floats up to the forefront of his mind: a wanted poster with a crazed grin and a feral stare, pinning the viewer with a look of disdain and violence.

He makes his way back to his body, sitting back up. Sancrin jumps in surprise. “Well,” He says. “That didn’t take you long this time.”

“Hm,” Brook says, considering. “I was thinking, Sancrin. I’ve heard tell that there’s a famous pirate out in the crowd today.”

He can practically feel Sancrin’s ears perk up. “Oh?”

“If you don’t mind,” Brook says. “Can you ask him to meet me backstage after the show? I so would like to speak with him.”

“Well…” Sancrin frowns, clearly thinking it through. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt at this stage. What, with you being dead already and all. Which pirate is it again?”

Brook taps a bony finger on his guitar. “Kid,” He says. “Captain Eustass Kid.”

-

Captain Kid is simultaneously exactly what Brook expected and not at all what Brook expected.

For one, he actually deigns to show up: Brook had anticipated a fight, had been a bit worried that he had committed some sort of offense, but…

But instead, Captain Kid saunters in after the show like he owns the place, all swagger and confidence and an air of being ready to snap into danger at any second. He’s trailed by another man in a blue and white mask and a shock of blond hair. Even though his face is hidden, Brook can practically sense the resigned expression that practically radiates from him.

That’ll be the first mate then. Excellent.

Brook, as his role as the host, speaks first. “Captain Kid,” He says, slowly rising to his feet. “How wonderful to see you attend one of my shows. You’ve made quite the name for yourself already.”

Kid practically preens at the words. “Sure,” He says, voice gruff and clearly attempting to maintain a cool exterior. “We’re on our way out, you know. To the New World. Why not catch one final performance before we go?”

“I’m honored,” Brook says, taking a seat on a rickety plastic chair near the back, carrying for them to do the same. “I hadn’t known my reputation had preceded me to this degree.”

Kid struggles to fit in the offered chair, but manages with a few awkward turns. “Rock is a dying art,” He responds. “Always good to keep it alive!”

Brook eyes (without eyes) Kid again, taking note of the fur, the nails, the headwear. He can certainly appreciate someone with a good sense of aesthetic.

The first mate sighs audibly. “Captain,” He says. “We’ve said our hellos. We’ve seen him. Let’s go.”

“Shut up Killer,” Kid says, and Brook tries not to let his knees knock. His name is Killer? “Anyway, there’s a reason I’ve accepted his invitation to talk.” And here, Kid pins him with a fiery glance. “You belong on that Straw Hat’s crew, don’t you?”

Ah. He had caught on quite quickly. “Yes indeed,” Brook says. “So, I believe my purposes in asking for this meeting are quite clear.”

Kid raises an eyebrow. “Of course,” He says. “Tell me, though.”

Doesn’t seem like he had known after all. “Well,” Brook says. “I’m not with them at the moment, but I’ll be meeting back with my crew somewhere down the line. I’d like to return to them with a formal notice of an alliance between our two crews, if possible.”

There’s a monetary pause before Kid throws his head back in a sharp bark of laughter. “And why should we do that?” He guffaws. “We’re after the same thing, you know. He and I. Why should two private captains chasing the same treasure form an alliance?”

“Excellent question,” Brook says, for that had indeed been one, and he really doesn’t have an answer for it. “I hear you’re both rookies. Would it not be beneficial to have someone in the same position as you as, if not a friendly face, at least a cordial one? There will be enough enemies in the New World as is without adding anyone from this side of the Grand Line too.”

“You think you’ll be—” Kid begins, voice rising, only to be interrupted by his first mate.

“Captain,” the first mate, Killer, cuts in. “Let’s hear him out,” Then, to Brook. “What would be in it for us? You’d only get in the way of our Captain’s goals.”

“Yeah!” Kid says, pointing at Killer. “What he said! Why should I do that?”

Brook shrugs. “It doesn’t have to be friendly,” He says. “Just…mutually beneficial. No shooting to kill, just the understanding that we both let each other go on our way unless there’s a direct challenge to the other captain’s goals.”

Kid looks back to Killer. “Why should I do that?” He repeats, eyebrows raising higher.

Oh, he’s just looking for an excuse now! Brook thinks, suddenly irate.

“Can’t hurt,” Killer muses. “One less person directly targeting us would be a help. It’s quite a tame agreement, all things considered.”

Kid suddenly guffaws again. “Fine,” He tells Brook. “Not like Straw Hat is going to be much of a threat anyway. Fine. Pass on the message to him, then…we won’t engage unless you get in our way.”

Brook grins wide on the inside. Won’t this be a nice welcome back present for the crew? “It’s a deal, then,” He says. “I’ll report this back to my captain. He’s honorable, he’ll keep his promises.”

“He better,” Kid grumbles. He makes to stand up. “That all?”

“No,” Brook says. “One more question. Have you ever heard of Haki?”

Kid snorts. “Heard of it?” He asks. “I’m a master of it.”

“In that case,” Brook says, patting at the sword in the sheath in his side. “If I may trouble you in asking you for a few pointers…how are your skills in Armament Haki?”

“Favor for favor,” Kid counters. “If I’m going to help you, I’ll need something in return.”

What could Brook possibly give—Ah.

“That’s fair,” Brook concedes. “How about this, then. I’ll give you and your crew another free concert right here, right now, in exchange for pointers. Free of charge.”

“Well,” Killer begins, before Lid jumps right back into the fray.

“Must have a high opinion of your music,” Kid begins, a gleam in his eye. “Exchanging my advice for something like that? Really?”

Brook has lived for too long to not recognize a bluff for what it is. “If that’s the case,” He begins. “Concert is off the table completely. How about—”

“Hey,” Kid interrupts. “Wait. You know what? I wanted some music. Play the set again, with a few extra thrown in. Then we’ll talk.”

“Pointers first,” Brook begins hopefully? “Concern last? That way you can drink til you pass out.”

“Was going to do that anyway,” Kid grumbles. “But fine. Now, just watch what I do—”

-

The tour goes by in flashes of color and sound and training and practice. Months pass in a blur, and then a year, and then he finds himself back on the ship, chugging along to the last stop of the tour. He’s parked at the front of ship, where he usually is when he’s not working, staring out at the water and hoping to catch sight of land.

Sabaody gets closer and closer, and Brook can practically taste it, feel the breeze of the archipelago in his curls. He glances back down at the card in his pocket, sees that it’s following the same direction that he’s going, that he has been going ever since the tour had begun.

He’s right. The card, whatever it may be for, is leading him towards Sabaody. And he knows in the depths of his wandering soul that his crew will be there too, waiting.

It’s all come to this now. He can plan a thousand things, come up with a thousand ways to ditch his increasingly shifty managers, think of a thousand greetings he can yell at his crew, dream up a thousand songs he can sing to them when he sees them again.

That’ll all come soon. But for now, Brook throws his arms out in the air, welcoming the sounds to the sea that drive the music in his heart, and laughs: “Yohohohoho!”

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

[ablupen]

Reflection

Relationships: No explicitly stated relationships, it can be interpreted as platonic or romantic.

Warnings: Minor Obey Me! Nightbringer spoilers, theory exploring, an attempt at minor horror, slight angst

Personal comments in tags.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up in the middle of the night in the large mansion you’ve grown somewhat accustomed to over the past few weeks.

It wasn’t the House of Lamentation, with your bed under a tree and warm light all around, but the solemn and eternal cool yet dim light of Cocytus Hall would have to do.

You’re kind of thirsty, so you slowly inch yourself up, rubbing at your eyes before you head outside of your room.

The hallways were dim, as always, and there wasn’t a sound in the mansion. Huh. Solomon must not be home yet, then. 

You’re not actually sure what exactly he does or where he goes. Solomon, being Solomon, kept many things from you, after all. He probably explores the Devildom a lot, if some of his random anecdotes and stories of the day were anything to go off of. Maybe he’s even trying to scam a demon.

Either way, it was a little… lonely, perhaps even a bit eerie being inside Cocytus Hall by yourself. You missed hearing the various types of ruckus that the brothers and the occasional guest would make. You missed hearing Lucifer scold Mammon, or Mammon protesting his innocence before being strung up. You missed hearing Levi fanboy inside his room or complaining about the noise outside. You missed hearing Satan snap or retort at someone before going back to his books, the angry bookworm that he was. You missed the sound of Asmo recording for Devilgram and his various sounds of joy and excitement. You missed the sound of the twins checking up on each other.

But you can’t have that. Not when these memories aren’t anywhere near your current time, which was gods know where, deep and far back into the past, where nobody knew you.

Of course, you were grateful to Solomon, following after you. It didn’t seem entirely pure of heart, being weirdly opportunistic about all this, but it was to be expected in a place full of demons and darkness, you suppose.

You wonder about how the brothers and company back home were doing.

They were probably losing their minds. Perhaps scouring every inch of the three realms to search for any sign that you were doing okay, that you were doing well. But they could only rely on the hopes that Solomon could help bring you back.

It was a sobering thought.

Just then, you start hearing some noise from downstairs.

“MC? MC, I’m home. I’m going to cook dinner for us, okay?” Solomon calls out, his voice ringing through the empty halls.

Oh, no, that won’t do.

You start quickly making your way to the stairs down, but then stop as you hear his voice again, this time behind you.

“MC? Ah, there you are,” he says, looking at you with a warm expression. “I was wondering who I heard running through the halls.”, he jokes.

You open your mouth to reply, then you hear him speak again.

“No need to order takeout. You like chicken soup, correct? I’ll make it for you.”

Solomon looks at you with an unusually urgent expression now, grabbing your hands. “MC. Listen to me very carefully, now-”

He gets cut off by the sounds of footsteps ascending up the stairs before he could even finish his explanation.

[sketch-guardian]

Time for some self indulgence... how would the classmates deal with a MC who's on their period and has really bad cramps? I absolutely can't get off my bed rn 😭😭

I'm very sorry to hear that Isa😥but don't worry,I'm sure it will be just fine😌also I apologize for the delay in replying to your ask (unfortunately I was busy studying-) and for the pain you are feeling🙈so I will do my best to answer in a satisfying way,keeping MC as gender neutral as possible as usual. In the meantime I hope you feel better by now☺anyway let's start:

"HOW WOULD THE RAD CLASSMATES DEAL WITH A MC WHO'S ON THEIR PERIOD AND HAS REALLY BAD CRAMPS?"

DEMYA

With her highly developed sense of smell, it's very likely that Demya will immediately notice MC's situation,perhaps even before it actually begins, since she would perceive an intense smell of hormones coming from her human, even if at first she would not understand the reason. Once their period starts, Demya's reaction might be a bit exaggerated at first, because the first thing that would come to her mind would be that MC is injured and not on their period. Once they explain the situation to her,she would do her best to take care of them, to demonstrate that despite her demon nature,she's able to provide for their needs, humans are fragile and sensitive creatures after all... however...the smell of blood would distract her a little (nothing to fear though-). Demya vaguely knows what a menstrual cycle consists of, but she doesn't know why it happens and why it's so painful, her ignorance on the subject though would not prevent her from acting as a heated pillow for MC's belly, to try to relieve the cramps, on a comfortable bed surrounded by all the salty and sweet snacks they could ever want: unfortunately Demya's not a expert with medicines,so she would limit herself to massaging MC's sore spots to make them feel better. If the situation worsened (migraine, nausea,ecc...) then she would turn to someone clever enough to be trustworthy, like Satan

DOMNRA (MOBIM)

He doesn't know very well how the human body works, having never felt any particular interest in it or its biological functions, but considering that his partner is human, he saw fit to do some research throughout their relationship, not very deep though, in fact Domnra would not be very prepared for the arrival of the MC's menstrual cycle. At first he would underestimate the situation, not understanding how painful a period can be, having suffered in the past much worse blows (just look at his scars-) and consequently he would seem a bit distant, but once he understands the intensity of MC's pain,he would immediately intervene to comfort them while quietly apologizing, with the assistance of Mobim, who would act as emotional support, being the size of a stuffed animal. The sight or smell of blood does not bother Domnra and in case MC has mood swings, he would be able to handle them, having anger management issues himself and a bipolar friend. Also both he and Mobim have quite high body temperatures,so they would try to sooth MC's cramps by being close to them during cuddles

AZUL

Among the RAD classmates, Azul is definitely the one with the most experience in interacting with humans, having spent several times on Earth and having made various pacts which, although short-lived, were sufficient for him to learn something more about human customs and biology, including what a menstrual cycle is.Azul would take relatively little time to notice MC's situation, having a kind of innate and highly developed empathy due to his powers, and once he ascertains their symptoms, he would use his magic to relieve their cramps and to entertain them, after all he loves the smile of his lovely star and it breaks his heart to see them stressed. However, again due to his empathy and instability, whenever MC has a mood swing, it's likely that such thing would happen to Azul too, being very in tune with their emotions (it's known though that he's still a lovable idiot,therefore, even if MC is gender neutral, he would occasionally make stupid puns like "if my babe is on their period, then I'm on my period too, it's uterUS-")

ZURI

Despite her intelligence,the topic of human biology has never particularly interested Zuri,so although she vaguely knows what a menstrual cycle is by hearsay during her long existence,she is unaware of what it entails exactly. As soon as MC shows signs to be on their period, Zuri would do some research on the subject on her own, rather than ask questions directly to MC,a bit due to her pride and also out of concern,not wanting to embarrass her beloved,it seems quite a delicate topic and she doesn't want to appear too insensitive. Zuri would approach MC with caution and do what she sees fit to take care of them, making sure they eat healthy food that doesn't make the cramps worse and that they don't overexert themselves (if medication is needed,she would almost assume the professionalism of a medic,measuring the right doses of medicine while letting MC rest,despite being a busy demon)

ODON

They know when MC's period is about to arrive,not due to a matter of hormones,blood or anything else,but rather thanks to their eye-like creatures,which seem to predict many phenomena, from the most important to the most trivial,like this one in this case.Odon is ancient and has a lot of knowledge to themselves,however even if they know the basics of human biology, including the menstrual cycle, this doesn't mean that they know how to treat it, having never taken care of another living being in their life, especially a human (other creatures rarely approach them, but it happened in the past that some animals did). In any case, Odon would not be discouraged by their inexperience and would be happy and honored to be able to take care of their dear friend MC, making the environment around them very quiet and relaxing, accompanied by warm drinks and soft sheets, immersed in a darkness illuminated only by a few dim lights. In Odon's presence, probably due to some strange eldritch horror ability, the cramps would seem to ease, as if they transferred the pain from MC to themselves, which however would hardly affect them, having a pain threshold beyond normal (literally, stabbing or cutting off a limb wouldn't bother Odon,but the eye-like creatures might be affected a little,given their bond-). Furthermore,Odon has a quite soothing voice when they don't giggle or smile like the cheshire cat, so MC could ask them to hum something like a lullaby

[sovamurka]

Good job, dear!!!

I love the dollhouse location so much because it has so many interesting details in it that you can't help but analyze.

There are two objects that indicate that Yana senses and even KNOWS that Balor is in her subconscious. Perhaps Yana put the framed picture as a proof that there is someone in her head that is not supposed to be there. The second object suggests that Yana is already walking through her mind in search of the intruder (because that thing was the early kind of animation, this one showed the walking man).

"Small" interlude before I continue. I need to elaborate on the murder of Yana's parents. Thing is, Siergo was the boss of Dreamcatcher who stole the most important knowledge he had at the moment. So when everything went down to shit Siergo called Balor and allowed him to finish the dirty job. That included driving Yana's parents insane (which was easy since they were already brainwashed by the cult). Ironically, he did not kill them despite having his bloody hand in it. Demons did. Through Yana's little body. This is reminiscent of Fran Bow (however Yana canonically has more in common with American McGee's Alice but that's another story). Balor also points out that he knew Yana was the little girl he met all those years ago as soon as he entered her mind (that explains his horror at the beginning when he was breaking glass around him).

Now about the dolls!

We meet various Yanas (it's funny to see if you know the ending of Demonslayer) made from different materials. All of them have sad, apathetic or horrified looks on their faces. They possibly reflect Yana's wish to be a simple girl with beautiful dresses who never had to go through what she had to (by the way, it's hilarious how in Крутиксы we're shown what Yana would look and behave like without her demonic trauma - there she is the sweetest young lady who can be very forgetful, and cat-Balor complains about that but still loves her). They also show what Yana feels when demons possess her - she feels like a doll with no will of her own. Balor even calls her as such in this chapter. And he uses the gentlest variant of it - куколка - as if trying to somehow make his approach softer. However, he never calls her that again (perhaps to show respect to the only person he actually has any respect for). It also reminds me of Balor's talk with Satan. The latter one tried to reason with our nightmare by calling Yana "the Puppet" and Balor "the Puppeteer". To which enraged Balor replied with the greatest amount of venom in his words since this "horned cretin" never considered them a symbiosis.

Now let's take a look at this.

As you can see, everything made out of glass is broken (remember about Yana's subconscious filled with broken glass? it's the same stuff). The window that doesn't show the world outside (friendly reminder that even before her demonic possession she was in hiding since her cultish parents probably never spoke to normal people) is broken. The mirror (Yana's own self) is broken. As are some of the dolls made of porcelain. And all those dolls show Yana's unstable state. There are teary-eyed dolls, there are rag dolls with buttons and stuff, there is a doll with the beheaded cat lying near (perhaps how Yana interpreted its death), there is a doll in a demonic circle ready for exorcism and there is a doll (as you pointed out) who looks like her future self.

The most interesting doll differs from others with her brightness and hints of violence.

It is Yana in her Alice costume (this comparison is very important when we talk about her at this point, as is Balor's Mad Hatter parallel in his first appearance), holding a cat akin to Cheshire. She's covered in blood and, unlike others, has a doll stand (perhaps to show that she's barely standing mentally when we meet her).

And, of course, how could we forget about the murder scene!

We're shown that Balor was connected to this right from the beginning (all the walls are covered in his markings). He sees almost the exact same doll that we saw earlier but this time it's not just a doll - it's the embodiment of Yana's guilt. It's what she has in her core.

This is the doll that Balor takes, it's the one he talks with...

...and the one he gives to Yana as a sign of their connection.

I’ve been thinking about Yana and Balor again (<- one of the most common sentences for me starting a post) and there were a few details I found interesting.

This will contain some information about the Dreamcatcher volume, as well as, naturally, Demoslayer.

So, number one!

When Balor first manages to actually see something in Yana’s mind that isn’t molten glass, he comes in a… what would we call it? Room? Maybe space would be more appropriate. Space it is.

So, he sees a lot of dolls which are revealed to be, if I remember correctly, Yana’s complexes and fears. Even with him there for such a short time, the space starts to morph into something more like… him.

We see tentacles and little eyes where he passes, and the space changes to, so to speak, accommodate him.

But, there is one thing that stands out. A small, framed picture of Yana, with her eyes covered in black marker, and Balor-like eyes around her. Seems okay, right? Only a temporary influence of Balor.

Except, with what we see in Dreamcatcher, and later in the last issue of Demonslayer, the two of them were always destined to meet. (And, again if I remember correctly, I think Balor was actually the one who killed Yana’s parents (they were in a cult, spooky stuff; that one guy, I’m guessing, had his fingers in it, but Balor was still there).)

If we take this into consideration, Yana could’ve unconsciously remembered him and it stayed somewhere in her mind.

So, this brings us to the next detail. Take this scene, for instance.

Some of the dolls Yana was, or, even better, that she saw herself as. Among these, there are three that caught my eye.

Firstly, the two cats, one on the floor and the other being held by a standing Yana doll in a blue dress. Both are fairly creepy cats, with turquoise eyes nonetheless.

These cats could represent the cat Balor was possessing just a while ago, but with so many broken dolls, I find it hard to believe all of them, or at least even these three (because I reckon these must’ve lasted for longer; this has been mere days, maybe less, since we’ve first seen Balor) are from so little time ago. Even if only one of these cats is new, one of them must’ve been older. I mean, come on, black cat with turquoise eyes that just so happened to be there? Not to mention that the markings don’t wholly resemble those of the recently possessed cat. Could it have been that the cats were normal cats, but when she came into the possession (pun intended) of cat-Balor, they morphed into these? Possible, but there is one other doll we must take into consideration.

It’s this one.

It is Yana, who else, with her signature cat-eared hoodie, but… the hoodie is black, not white like her usual, or, if you want, real one. And look at the eyes. The eyes on the doll - one is turquoise, almost green, in a colour so reminiscent of Balor, while the other resembles Yana’s eye colour better. A doll of not what has been, but of what they’ll become. And this is, I’d say, a bit too far for Balor’s influence to catch on so quickly.

So, how does Yana know? Does she know at all? I’d say she might not, but some part of her mind does - there is something in her that knows about that fate, and it might be a nod to the fact that later on, there will be countless universes where they will meet in various ways. Maybe some of those universes already existed, they’ve just forgotten about them.

Anyway, certainly a few interesting little details to keep us thinking.

Now, on to

Number two!

Upon meeting, and after seeing Balor’s very sad no good backstory, Yana wants to break him (his face, mask, whatever we decide to call the form he has) while accusing him of stealing that face. Balor then tells her that, without any magic or means to protect herself, she is just a dead weight to Danila and Black Hound.

While we know he shouldn’t necessarily be trusted, because he is a) a sneaky bitchard of a nightmare, and b) unbelievably scared for his own pathetic life which Yana is holding in her hands while being extremely angry at him, I’d say he’s lying.

The reason for him to lie is also probably to, as we know he sometimes does, minimise his fear of Yana, because he knows that if someone else taught her magic or helped her with it, he’d be gone.

But we, as the readers, can catch on to the fact that he is lying by paying attention to some other clues.

When Yana discovers Balor and tells him to get out of her head, her eyes start glowing blue.

Despite here being a part of a face, for which I am not sure is maybe Lugh’s or the Antichrist’s (considering courier lore, that could be Antichrist), it’s not their influence Yana is using either.

Both his magic and eyes are a distinctive yellowish-golden colour, and Yana’s light blue doesn’t quite match Balor’s colour either, as his is a slightly more greenish hue.

This also happens with Yana when Sneak tries “possessing” her at Queen of Rot’s demand, and her eyes get the specific colour again.

Therefore, this leads me to the conclusion that, if only partly, Yana’s magic (or more likely courier magic) not only exists, but often manifests in light blue colour, as does the Antichrist’s.

The reason why she couldn’t use it earlier was either that she: wasn’t aware it existed, managed to utilise it only upon first meeting Balor because he was a creature she could actually fight against, or simply wasn’t strong enough before. I reckon she can use it herself, so despite it being a remnant (or part of) his power, it can still be considered hers. The question of why not use it earlier is for someone else to answer, as I’ve grown tired of typing.

I hope, if you have read this far, that you’ve enjoyed my rambles. See you around, I guess!

[obeythebutler]

Could I get MC who one day gets sassy and backtalks Lucifer in front of the brothers, not because they don’t like him, because they had enough of his authority and high demands. MC was tired of it and wanted someone to put him in his place, because the brothers wouldn’t. After their outburst they realize that they were talking this way to ‘Lucifer’ aka. The firstborn, one of the lords of hell. They don’t apologize but they contemplate on standing their ground or getting far away.

What did you do, MC ?

Talking back to the Avatar of Pride, one of the Lords of Hell, the fallen angel-Lucifer, wasn't a very good idea.

~

" Mammon, you have thirty seconds to clean your room, before I hang you by the ceiling again. Satan, no more felines in the house or I shall banish them. I expect the rest of you to arrive on time for today's meeting-"

" Could you please at least shut your mouth for a while?"

The room went dead silent.

" Honestly, I'm fed up with your exorbitant demands and ridiculous orders. You think you're above us all ? No! What you're doing is only making us resent you, and not 'respect' you and your goddamned authority."

MC took a deep breath, as they looked around.

Oh shit, holy shit, mother of cows, you did not talk back to Lucifer, The Lucifer, aka the Avatar of Pride.

Well, what's done is done. Someone needed to out him in his place because his own fucking brothers won't.

You can run, but Lucifer will still catch you. Hold your ground, at least you will die a honourable death.

The atmosphere is tense, with Lucifer looking on in disbelief at you, while his brothers have various faces- shock, amusement, fear.

Run or Stay?

LUCIFER

Never in his life did he expect some human, a mere human to talk back to him.

How dare they? Being bratty won't lead to anything good. But he's also in awe that a Human had the guts to call him out.

Lucifer doesn't know whether to give a fitting punishment to MC or let it slide. But his pride is on the stake here....

MAMMON

He's suprised you aren't dead already, because the last century he talked back to Lucifer he was hung in the underground labyrinth, having become some kind of toy for Cerebrus.

But kudos to MC for having the guts to backtalk Lucifer, although he might have to start running with them....

Lucifer looks shocked....after a long, long time.

LEVIATHAN

The normie did not- holy hell, how aren't you dead yet?!

Levi would either be mememing about the whole situation or be standing there in trepidation, of how MC was going to die.

Run, MC, run.

SATAN

How..in the seven hells...are you still alive?

Respect for MC has gone up in Satan's eyes, finally someone who would put Lucifer in his place, but it was something he didn't do...

He might have to start backtalking Lucifer now ...

ASMODEUS

Oh dear, MC, what did you do?

Asmodeus knows that Lucifer will go bonkers on MC, because the one thing in this house you should never question is Lucifer's pride.

But he feels guilty, as he never questioned his brothers controlling ways....

BEELZEBUB

MC, climb on my back and we'll run.

Beelzebub knows that they have some freaky guts, which gets them in danger. But this, this is something else entirely.

But perhaps it is also his fault, that he let the situation escalate so much that a Human had to come interfere....

BELPHEGOR

Kick his ass MC! If you die I'm joining you !

He knew MC would be dead the moment they talked back to Lucifer. But this was something they had the guts to do, and he's in awe.

Will start calling Lucifer out on his shit more often.

[elsecrytt]

Okay so, satan/asmo/mc sandwich

I keep thinking about it

u kno what. ur not wrong. Satan and Asmo actually seem to be one of the closer pairs of brothers? Like, if you toss out Beel and Belphie, Satan and Asmo might be the pair that gets along the best. They never seem to argue, always kinda just chiming in (often agreeing with each other) in whatever discussion. It has a lot in common with Satan/MC/Solomon because Satan is again, very genuinely adventurous and open to new things, while Asmo is the resident degenerate who's just always up for everything. Possibly means lots of spitroasting or perhaps, hear me out - one of them goes to town on you in the backdoor while the other licks and sucks you to completion,,, Asmo also probably has a massive collection of toys, too, actually. Like, he lays a ton of them out on his bed for you and him to play with later on that night, and Satan walks in to chat with you about one thing or another and Has Some Question about some of their functionality. The two 100% compare notes about how to turn you on and what seems to get you off the best. Satan might keep an actual notebook. Asmo probably felt left out and started his own. Let's hope you never open that pink 'diary' of his on the shelf called the "secret love book <3" LMAOOO I feel like they could do double dates almost as well as Satan/MC/Solomon, too! Satan can read while Asmo does your nails and his, and Asmo promises to read to him out loud while he gives you and Satan a spa mask treatment~ A nice part is there's a mix of "let's go out and do stuff" and also "we can stay in and do stuff". Satan likes to seek out new experiences, and Asmo is a social butterfly, but they both have hobbies they can enjoy in the comfort of their own home. I think there'd be a lot of balance in this sandwich, because if one of them wanted to go out and you weren't in the mood, you could just hang out with the other. They're both very independent people, and aren't particularly competitive with each other, so saying "I'd rather stay in with X" would turn out just fine. It's really healthy tbh, I don't think either of them would even get salty about it. HOWEVER I will note that I think Satan is the best looking brother. His eyes, the shape of his jawline, the light hair and eyes,,, it all just DOES IT for me, he's so damn beautiful. Asmo might feel some aggravation there.... but I bet he also DOES think Satan is pretty lmao. There's a lot for these two to learn from each other. Like. Look at him. Look at how Satan dresses. Look at his clothing. He is so gorgeous and he is in NEED. Asmo could HELP HIM. Asmo baiting Satan into dressing like an actual person by convincing him to do a "private photo shoot" with you. And I bet he'd genuinely think out the poses, come up with something that felt and looked very erotic for you two to hold in front of him while he got different angles. Certain... custom articles of clothing, various kinds of body jewelry - telling Satan he could take more and more off as the shoot went on,,, and omg having Satan use his tail during the poses to hold one of your limbs in the right position, or to support... certain body parts. Asmo encouraging you on, perfectly cheerful throughout it. He'd be honestly into it too, super passionate and excited to get some great shots. You're in Satan's arms, his tail threaded between your legs while you're wearing a skirt that's more a curtain of jeweled chains than any kind of proper clothing, to say nothing of your exposed chest, claws digging against your breast as Asmo fusses over how his fingers fit alongside your nipple. Asmo says Satan's nail polish was such a great choice, it's so bright against your skin - take a look! And Satan shows you too, an expert photograph Asmo's taken of the two of you, so intimately entwined - was his tail really that close to your - ANYWAYS. I think it'd be a great sandwich!! Positively delicious! Fine taste, anon <3

[sevendeadlymorons]

Ok mc is still unused to devil Dom and the house and the boys so they usually wake up in the middle of the night, if they even sleep at all the first few weeks. Just them their thought a hot cup o any beverage on the big chair in the library at 2 am just lost and a little sad.. who would find them first how would they react? I just had this idea in my had for such a long time and!!!! Sorry but I positively love your works so much!!

Just pretend that Belphie wasn’t locked up and he was there in the start of the game, ok? Ok.

Thank you! And this is so sweet I’m loving it :,)

Brothers Reaction to Newly Acquainted MC Sitting Alone At Night

You’d woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night for the third time this week, hyperventilating after the nightmare you’d just endured. You check your surroundings but quickly realise that you weren’t in your room, but in the room you were assigned to when you were dragged to the Devildom against your will. You sigh and hold your head in your hands, desperately trying to shake away the irrational fear you’d embedded deep inside of you the past few nights. You knew you weren’t going to be sleeping tonight so you decide to get up and go grab a hot drink and sit in the huge chair you saw in the library when you walked past with that demon. When you’d finished making your drink and sat down in the chair, ready to start drinking it, you hear the floor boards creak from across the room...

——————————————

Lucifer

Seeing the eldest of the brothers in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly the most comforting situation to be in, but you composed yourself as best as you can when he spotted you and walked in to the room, sitting down dangerously close to you. Lucifer stares at you questioningly, wondering why you were up so late. He was going to say something but felt, since you’re new here, it may stress you, so he kept quiet.

Time passed and you two were still sat in silence, awkwardly sipping on your now lukewarm drink. You wanted so badly to just get up and leave but God, he had a presence that made you stiff. You thought you were about to lose it until he finally spoke, breaking the painful silence around you. He told you softly that if something was troubling you, that he would try and help, his eyes glistening in the ray of moonlight from the open window, making him look like an angel, causing you to feel much more relaxed. You nod politely and go back to drinking your drink, his gaze still locked on you, but now, it felt more comfortable. He went on to talk about Diavolo’s plans for the future and how you were helping them get there, reminding you how grateful he is to have you here. It was a nice thought, honestly.

Hearing such soothing words from him calmed you down, overall, and you both talked about music and hobbies. He wasn’t such a bad presence in the end, and his smile still makes you feel safe whenever you think about it.

Mammon

The demon you knew to be Mammon walked into the room with a surprised look on his face. Obviously you wasn’t the person he was wanting to see at 2 in the morning... Ever since you first lay eyes on him, you knew he was the more eccentric brother, as he quickly became quite vocal and perhaps even comfortable in your presence?

He marched towards you straight away, your paranoia rising as you wonder what he was going to do. But instead of all these awful things you’d thought up in your head, he stopped in front of you and started telling you how late it is, calling you foolish. You thought you saw concern flash in his eyes for a brief second as he was nagging you though. He sighed and shrugged, realising that you may just be overwhelmed, so he took a seat next to you and just went silent, letting you dwell in your thoughts, but not entirely letting go of the fact it was still very late and you had RAD tomorrow and he wasn’t going to be the demon to drag you out of bed.

Weirdly, in the end, he made you feel more relaxed somehow? He obviously showed some care for you and that made you feel a bit more secure in your surroundings. He was just who you needed to see in that moment.

Leviathan

Seeing the third born, Leviathan, came as a shock to you more than it did to him. As soon as he saw you, he rolls his eyes and huffs, then continues on to what you imagined to be the kitchen. You thought he’d left at first, leaving you in a peaceful silence with just you and your hot drink, alone in thought. Then, why do you feel so hurt by him ignoring you...? Your thoughts continue to attack you, until another creak echoed into the room. It was him again.

He looked into the room at where you were sitting; it looked like he was deciding whether to walk on or comfort you. He seemingly made up his mind as he walked in and sat down opposite you. You knew he was awkward to be around as soon as you met him, and you weren’t surprised whatsoever when he pulled out his phone and started playing a game, the light from the screen illuminating his face. You noticed his eyes darting up every few seconds, maybe to check you were still there and you hadn’t left him? He wasn’t going to say anything anytime soon, and you knew that, so you sceptically asked him what game he was playing. He didn’t even look at you when he answered, his eyes glued to the screen as he quickly tapped buttons on his phone. You chuckle, telling him you play it too, and you’ve never seen someone’s neck snap up to look at you so fast in your life. His eyes light up as he begins to talk about his favourite characters, then going to ask you yours. He was like an entirely different person; he even dashed up to sit right next to you, showing you all his rare cards, but then blushing after your legs brush against eachother.

Levi made you feel safe, and like you had someone to relate to. Talking to him was also like talking to an old friend, insults included. He really was a joy to be around.

Satan

From out of the shadows, you realise it was Satan, a face that you trusted because of his tranquillity and ability to stay more or less level headed. He obviously came in to have some alone time as he looked like he didn’t expect to see you sitting alone at this hour. But nonetheless, he flashes you a comforting smile, making you relax just a bit, but you still kept your guard high; he was a demon after all...

He quietly minded his own business and went to pick out a book from the various shelves. Reading at this hour sounded a bit odd to you, but perhaps he couldn’t sleep like you? He pulled out a book and sat down on a large chair besides you. The silence was almost deafening as the two of you sat in complete silence for what felt like hours, the only sound audible was the rustle of paper and the sip you made as you drank your drink. You was tempted to get up and leave but he suddenly spoke in a calm and soothing manor, something you never expected from him. He asks several questions, from what your favourite book is, to your favourite genre, and even told you if you ever needed something, come to him and he’d sort it out. He was a kind soul at heart, you noticed, sharing his love for cats with you and watching his eyes light up as he continues to tell you about the ones he looks after outside.

He made the night just that bit better. All you wanted was a friendly face and Satan provided that, along with a much needed conversation.

Asmodeus

You sighed as you realised it was just Asmo. He was probably the least threatening to you compared to his brothers, but you had to admit, being alone at night with the Avatar of Lust did feel slightly unsettling. He caught on to your presence pretty quickly and casually walked over to you, flashing you a big smile and a friendly wave. You cautiously smiled back and went back to drinking your beverage.

He was unsurprisingly friendly, starting up a conversation, or a lecture, you suppose, about how you shouldn’t be up this late unless you want your skin to suffer. He talked quite a lot about himself, so thankfully you didn’t have to respond much, and instead stuck to drinking and nodding occasionally to show you’re still listening. He even gave you little compliments to try and cheer you up; complimenting your hair and skin to which you laughed and thanked him. But he never took his eyes off your hands for some reason, and you couldn’t understand why until he took your hands in his and you soon realised you’d been shaking. He looked at you with sparkling eyes, his tone suddenly quite serious as he began to tell you that if you ever felt lonely or distressed, come to him and he’ll make you feel all better. You couldn’t help but smile and look down in embarrassment, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand soothingly.

After sitting with Asmo for a while, you came to realise he actually had such a kind heart. His aura was calming and you felt safe. He definitely improved your mood.

Beelzebub

Coming from around the hallway was Beelzebub. He always threatened you in a way, what with his large frame that towered over yours and the way you don’t think you’ve seen him smile yet. How could you not be slightly worried about his intentions? He didn’t see you as he made his way to the kitchen next door. You sighed and went back to drinking your hot drink, staring into your lap and feeling painfully lonely. You heard yet another creak and quickly looked up, but all you could see was a stockpile of food held by none other than Beel himself.

You felt your heart leap out your chest in shock. You didn’t even hear him come towards you. He kept staring at you with that same emotionless expression, but when you looked closer, it wasn’t a scary one, or a threatening one. He sat down across from you and started to eat through the huge pile of food he’d gathered, an entire steak lasting maybe 5 seconds. You got heartburn just from watching him so you turned away and continued to sip your drink, listening to the awkward sounds of Beel devouring his next piece of meat. Not even 5 minutes later and you look up and notice all the food was gone, all that was left was this huge grin on his face. In that moment, you felt peaceful, like his smile was lighting up the room and making you feel better already. He looked at you and smiled that same smile, causing you to smile back. He was actually such a happy soul and you soon started talking about your favourite foods and he even got up to get you some fruits that you said you enjoyed.

He was comforting to be around and your first impression on him was no longer as negative. He made you feel safe and you knew you could be open with him without judgment.

Belphegor

Out from around the corner was Belphegor. You could’ve swore he went to sleep ages ago, so you thought he’d be one of the brothers you could avoid, but apparently not. He didn’t even say anything to you as he walked in, blanket and pillows in tow, and spread himself out on the couch across from you, falling straight asleep.

You had no idea what just happened as you listened to his gentle snores, feeling like you’re intruding on something even though you knew he was the one who walked in here and fell asleep right in front of you. You felt slightly weird just watching him sleep and instead focused on finishing your drink and getting out of there. The drink was still hot so you couldn’t exactly just down it, and leaving straight away would’ve just looked weird, what if he wakes up and sees you staring at him? You couldn’t calm yourself as multiple thoughts rushed through your head at the same time, leaving you with a pounding headache. You didn’t even notice the demon across from you peaking one of his eyes open to watch you carefully. You hear him call out your name suddenly, disrupting your panicking thoughts. You stare straight at him and see that he’s now sat up, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He apologises for interrupting you and tells you that his twin, Beel, was just snoring too loud and it woke him up, so he came to sleep down here. You smile and nod, but still felt kinda weird. He notices and proceeds to get up and sit right next to you, wrapping you up in his blanket and resting his head on your shoulder, telling you to sleep as you look tired. You blink in surprise but agree silently, waiting for him to fall asleep before trying to yourself.

Belphie was a soothing demon to be around. He never smiled much, but he was warm and made you feel safe and wanted, even if you did sorta play the role of a pillow for him. Falling asleep was quite easy with him around.

I had way too much fun with this, holy shit, thank you to whoever sent this me

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you+me+the Devil, m | myg, jjk | summon

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The Devil and his right-hand demon are forcibly yanked from Hell to encounter a power they've never seen before, a power that everyone thought was only a rumor. In chains and unable to break free, they are asked to give up part of their souls. And they do. For science. But, mostly, to fuck.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you're religious, maybe skip this one; world building; short graphic descriptions of sexual acts; supernatural and horror (and it gets way creepier during the smut, you have been warned); non-idol!AU - Hell!AU; Devil!Yoongi x chaos!reader x Devil's right-hand demon!Jungkook and switches between their POVs; they don't have your best interests at heart and neither do you.

--

you and me and the Devil makes 3 prologue | the summoning | the collection | 666

-

there’s not a word for what i wanna do to you

One second, the Devil, also known as Min Yoongi, was frowning as he gazed up at his right-hand demon Jeon Jungkook, pondering the whereabouts of the missing soul-shards. The next second, the volcanic ground below him exploded, multiple giant red-black rings adorned with symbols and images creating a circle, expanding a larger and larger surface area, crackles of red lighting and tendrils of black smoke shooting everywhere. It consumed everything, bleeding into every nook and cranny of the throne room, saturating the air with summoning intent. It was happening far too quickly for the Devil to stop, the ground splitting and black chains shooting out, surrounded by a deadly ice-silver signature of the kind of magic you don’t bring home to your mother.

“Fuck–!”

That was Jungkook.

“Ah.”

That was the Devil.

The black chains snapped around their bodies and bound them in an instant. Jungkook snarled and fought with all of his power, black wings flaring out that were instantly crushed and shredded by the enchantment, his curved black horns protruding from his head and being forced back by the power. In contrast, the Devil merely sat there. Yoongi knew he couldn’t stop it, not this kind of magic, if it could even be called that, so he didn’t try. He let the chains wrap around him and shackle him. Instead, he furrowed his brow and tried to trace the source, tried to find the purpose. In order to defeat an enemy, you must be informed. Yoongi lived by this philosophy, which was why he was the Devil.

He could not trace it.

That was very disheartening.

But he didn’t need to worry earlier, because the red-black summoning circle was closing in, and he would find out very, very soon who it was. He had nothing to worry about.

Yoongi was the Devil, after all.

-

You inspected your nails.

Matte black, pointed. You had just done them. You liked to look nice for your guests.

“Hm, the Devil works hard, but I work harder,” you chuckled.

-

This was not what the Devil expected.

Yoongi expected a dark cave, a crowd of hooded figures, lots of candles. Maybe a Bible or a Koran. Devil worshippers, Satanists, cultists, or whatever they liked to call themselves. He fully expected to fight, to kill, to maim, and to fucking enjoy it, because he was the Devil and he served no one.

That was the whole fucking point of leaving Heaven in the first place.

He did not expect this.

You.

“Oh? A new development.”

Yoongi had seen many things in his time. He thought he could no longer be surprised.

He was wrong.

You stood over the two figures chained to the ground, peering curiously at them. A plain black dress with a flared skirt and a lace high collar. Long-sleeved with small ruffled cuffs at the end. No socks or shoes, just long, beautifully sinful legs and pretty feet. Pointed, matte black fingernails at the ends of lovely hands. A single nail was on one of your full dark lips, small amused smile dancing on that pouty mouth.

Your nail pressed into your flesh.

Yoongi wanted to shove his dick into that mocking smirk.

Sharp, distinctive eyes. Unforgettable. Yoongi would not forget the eyes of the fool who summoned him anyway, but your eyes… They were different. They held no malice. No innocence either. No, your eyes were the greatest mystery of all.

They were an enigma, revealing nothing to the one who could tell everything.

Yoongi did not like this. He did not like how him, an all-powerful being, one who could poison the minds of all other beings, was being confronted with a human who seemed very not human.

You were holding something on the crook of your arm. He narrowed his eyes. A black plush goat-man with horns and an upside-down red pentagram stitched on his head. It had little leather hooves for feet and hands. Black leathery wings as well. Another common misconception of the Devil. As if he wanted to be an ugly goat for all eternity. Hmph. But there was something about the way you held it that made Yoongi think it wasn’t an homage to him.

No, you held it close to your breast, next to your heart, squeezing the plush goat-man’s little arm lovingly.

It made him ache with longing.

They were in a bedroom, on the floor next to the bed. Black sheets, fluffy blankets with white stars all over them. Black walls with posters all over them, cute animated characters, haunting imagery, various musical artists, sinful and innocent, a vast plethora that told him nothing of true intent. Modern, sleek furniture. A high-end desktop with multiple monitors. A nice flat-screen television. Many soft plushies of adorable and strange characters, stacked on shelves and in corners, both popular and niche.

Who was this person?

With every passing second, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

Jungkook was beside him, disheveled and disoriented, chained down with black. The demon sat up, growling in his chest, trying to exert his power.

“Who do you think–”

“Ah, little Satan, they shouldn’t talk until I allow them, isn’t that right?”

The Devil was not a fool. You were not talking to him. You were talking to the little goat-man in your arms. Yoongi heard a choking sound and he turned his head to see a very large black ball gag ramming itself in between Jungkook’s teeth, snapping closed with a black chain strap behind his pretty head. Jungkook looked livid, trying to bite through it, but Yoongi doubted he could break it.

You smiled at him.

Yes, indeed, Yoongi was liking this situation less and less.

In some ways.

Seeing Jungkook in a ball gag was a pleasant image.

“I didn’t expect it to turn out this way. I was aiming for him first,” you said to Yoongi, lowering the little goat-man and holding him by a hoof. Yoongi wasn’t sure if he wanted to rip apart the plush or be it. He decided that wasn’t important right now.

“Ah, well, this might be better,” you mused nonchalantly. Jungkook was still fighting his restraints, but neither you nor Yoongi acknowledged it. You crouched down, a delicate flash of inner thigh and black velvet panty in his view. Yoongi narrowed his eyes. You cocked a brow, smirk widening. “Two birds with one stone, no?”

You set the little goat-man in front of him.

Sat down, spreading your legs to squeeze the little goat-man with your inner thighs.

There was no question now.

Yoongi wanted to both be the plush goat-man and rip him to shreds.

“I’ll let you speak to me, Devil. You seem polite.” Conversational, calm. Not condescending, which somehow made it worse. At least if you spoke to him with hostility, he would know how to turn it against you.

“You have magic that doesn’t belong to you, human,” he said softly, a raspy renounce in his voice. He festered it with sweetness and warning at the same time, accenting it with a discerning stare.

You grinned.

Even he, the Devil, was unsettled.

“Nothing belongs to anybody. You only borrow it for a short while and then the powers far beyond even you take it back.”

Yoongi felt his heart drop and race at the same time. As he suspected. This was not the work of his father or some a wayward demon. Magic, power, illusionism, these were all words to describe things that could not be described. Entropy holds no bounds and there is no meaning behind it. It exists only to cause anarchy. For some reason, perhaps simply chaos alone, you, a human, was in possession of something even he could not control or understand.

Shit.

He stared into your eyes and they reflected his expression back to him. He tried to search for it, the desires within the heart, the small tendrils of pain that asked to be soothed, the soul begging to be freed. An ordinary demon could be fended off by a strong-willed human for a while, but Min Yoongi was no ordinary demon.

He was the Devil, even if he was bound by your chains.

You tilted your head at him, hair curling around your cheeks and lashes.

Yoongi could take even the weakest flame of desire and stroke it into a blazing fire. Even the holiest of saints could not fight him. Everyone wanted something, even if it was, disgustingly, in the name of his father. And humans, well, they were the masters of wanting things they couldn't have. Easily manipulated, even by each other. The Devil hardly needed to do anything at all. It was only a matter of whether or not Yoongi cared to do it and, most of the time, he didn't give a single shit.

You tilted your head the other way, smiling.

Yoongi did not find a maze or a barrier preventing him from the soul. He found the soul within seconds. It was there, all right.

The Devil just didn't know what the fuck he was looking at.

Why was your soul just you sitting there in the abyss, looking up at him with the same smile you were giving him right now?

And why did he feel nothing emitting from it?

He pulled back, looking into your eyes again. He did not like this.

You leaned forward and touched his horns.

His eyes widened as your fingertips brushed against the large curved black-red horns against the sides of his head. He hasn't even realized they had protruded. How? His horns were a sign of his power, a symbol he used for fear, for appearance, and for the moments of when he was exercising a great deal of his influence. Your fingertips brushed against the second set, the ones that bloomed upwards into wicked black-red spikes. Both sets? His soul-search had him reflexively procure both?

Shit.

He started into your eyes, seeing himself reflected back. Min Yoongi was the Devil. Emotion was no stranger to him. He harnessed it all, consumed himself in the passions and wonders of emotion. There were ones he felt less, simply because of who he was. For instance, there was not much that made him afraid.

You smiled.

Fear. He could feel it rise within him.

Yoongi grinned back.

Was this what he thought it was? He had heard of such things, rumors and whispers, even amongst the angels themselves. The hidden truth that Heaven and Hell belonged in a specific dimension or realm, Order. That there was another realm, the mirror, the reflection trapped, the unknown.

Disorder.

His kind, the high-above, and those between angels and insects, the humans, none of these belonged in the realm of Disorder. There were rumors that Order was merely a concoction of Disorder and that their realm could collapse any moment, erasing all of existence without a trace. Entropy was waiting for them all.

Yoongi understood now.

This was chaos.

The Devil was a master of desire. And a master of deliberately doing exactly what he shouldn't. He should not be tempted by a glimpse of chaos. His father would warn him to stay away from it.

His father could fuck right off.

Yoongi leaned forward, still bound, his horns disappearing. The chains clanged around him, his power rattling underneath. He wasn't doing it to fight them. He wanted to feel it. To understand what could not be understood, to touch the untouchable, because it was there, there right in front of him and he wanted it, he wanted it, and the Devil feeds off desire, even his own.

He wanted those lips.

You backed up.

The denial only made his desire stronger.

You left the plush goat-man sitting there right in front of him.

-

Jungkook was pissed.

Absolutely furious, jaw and head aching from this ridiculously large ball gag, fuming that he had no idea what was going on and that a single human was doing this bullshit. There was no way you were working alone. There had to be other beings behind this. He couldn't figure it out right now, but he would and he would tear them apart, right after he fucked your pathetic human body and tore you apart.

You must be a fool, thinking you could shackle him, Jeon Jungkook, the right hand of the Devil himself, the epitome of pure sin and free will.

He continued fighting the magic, trying to exert his strength, rattling the black chains, ice-silver lashes beating him back down. He tried to release his wings, but they were ensnared, pain shooting up his back. Jungkook cared not for pain. He had felt pain for millions of years. A few seconds was nothing. He tried to release his horns, but he could not, as if the very air neutralized him.

He was enraged.

Maybe would simply kill you so he could spend an eternity torturing you for your insolence.

Then the Devil's horns appeared.

How did he–?

Then you touched the Devil.

Jungkook wanted to scream.

He did, deep in his chest, muffled rage, jealousy, hate, all at once, and both of you ignored him, your fingers grazing Yoongi's horns, fucking smiling, looking unflinchingly into the Devil's eyes, and Jungkook wanted to erase you from existence, destroy every single shred of your soul for not groveling at the feet of Min Yoongi.

The horns disappeared and your hands hovered around Yoongi's head, fingers splayed out around the black hair like a shining halo.

Ironic.

The Devil leaned forward.

Don't you fucking kiss her, hyung!

But you moved away, backing up, gaze lingering on Yoongi before closing your eyes and reopening them slowly, a gradual shift to Jungkook's face.

He snarled at you through the gag.

He had you now. Eye contact and Jungkook could exert at least part of his power, the soul-search to find your deepest desires, your hidden gems, the calamity within that would call to him. He would find it and manipulate it, bend you to his will, turn you into his puppet. Play with you until you begged to die, only to find yourself in his arms once more, his plaything for all eternity.

All he had to do was find it.

You slid to your hands and knees, crawling to him. He felt it inside his chest, his own desire, watching the curve of your back to ass, his cock twitching at the sight, his mind conjuring images of your pretty body on a leash. Jungkook didn't have preferences when it came to bodies. A body was a body. In his hands, all bodies became prettier. You already had the base and he already had the wrath to want it. You stopped in front of him, the black skirt of your dress flaring out. He could see parts of your bare body.

Legs, knuckles, knees.

A small, amused smile on your lips.

Eyes that Jungkook searched valiantly, looking for malice, for innocence, for desire, for the darkest shadows and the lightest light.

Why couldn't he see anything?

This must be part of your magic. No matter. Jungkook had other ways. He was creative and cunning. You would break under his hand. He wouldn't stop until it was done. He was a demon that saw things through, even to his detriment.

His jaw was suddenly released from its prison, ball gag disappearing, fading into ice-silver smoke. He coughed, snapping his teeth, glaring at you.

"You dumb bitch," he hissed, violent resonance in his voice, oppressive and intense. "Do you think you humans are above us with your tricks and schemes? Kneel before those who invented such things."

You tilted your head.

Yoongi chuckled beside him.

Jungkook's brows furrowed. What–?

Your body trickled down like liquid, laying against the dark wood floor, looking up at him. Jungkook froze, maddening desire rising, infuriated at your face looking up at him, plush dark lips parted, hands on your chest, fingers spread out and molded to your flesh under the plain black dress. Sinking in, making him clench his jaw.

Your smile like a Cheshire Cat, eyes reflecting his rage.

Jungkook wanted to straddle your face and shove his cock into that smirking mouth, bulge your throat and cheeks with his girth.

"Is he always like this?" you asked, still not looking away.

"He pretends to be nice when he wants something out of you," the Devil answered calmly.

"Isn't that you?"

You still didn't look away from Jungkook. Why couldn't he find what he needed from your eyes?

"I'm always nice."

"That means you always want something out of someone."

Yoongi laughed, raspy and deep, the sound echoing in the bedroom, filling it up with his sound. Why couldn't Jungkook find it? His rage began to become infested with something else. Your eyes reflected only him.

Like a mirror.

No matter. The demons had other ways.

"Come here," Jungkook purred.

"I wouldn't do that."

That wasn't you. That was the Devil.

Your body lifted as if it was on a string from the center of your chest, fingers and black fingernails trailing against the dark hardwood, head tipped back, the line of your neck hidden by the high collar of lace, shielded from his hungry gaze. Legs curling up, skirt pooling around your thighs, his rage molding with carnal need, festering with something else.

Fear.

You rose to your knees, in prayer position in front of him, almost as if you were about to reach out and touch faith. Jungkook furrowed his brow, watching your presence near, wanting it, ready to coax or rip your desires from your lips themselves. It didn't matter if he was bound, it didn't matter if his black suit was torn up and ugly, it didn't matter if he was bleeding from his efforts to escape this magic.

You were still a human.

He was a demon and he would taint you.

Closer, your lids lowering, entranced by his spell. Jungkook smirked. Too easy. Humans were so, so easy. He craned his neck, lips parting, the palpable lust of his breath exhaling. So close to those pretty, dark, fuckable lips.

"You're really falling for it, hm?"

Jungkook paused. His eyes shifted to Yoongi. The Devil had turned his body to watch, clad in a tailored black suit. In contrast, Yoongi's was unmaimed, as he hadn't fought his restraints. The Devil had black hair like him, parted slightly, with shadowy dark brown, cat-like eyes that glinted with something sinister. Pale skin, almost luminescent. Exposed neck, elegantly laid black silk tie, unlike Jungkook, who preferred not to wear one. Lips that demanded you to plead for your life.

A body that made Jungkook want to sin for him.

That was the power of the Devil.

His eyes shifted from Yoongi to you, who had stilled in front of him. Hands beneath you and knuckles pressed to the floor like an obedient pet. What was Yoongi talking about? He had you right where he wanted you. And yet, he hesitated.

Then you spoke.

Delicate and calm, with no resonance. Human.

"I thought demons had free will?" you whispered. "That not even the Devil could control a demon."

Or was it?

Jungkook watched your lips form the words.

"If he is powerful enough, that is."

-

Yoongi didn't bother warning Jungkook anymore.

The Chaos knew what it was doing.

Clever girl.

-

Jungkook growled, leaning back a little, letting the passion of emotion course through him, wrath, lust, pride. Fear. All of it. Drawing from it, his power pulsing, singing through his muscles.

"Come here, human."

You had to crawl into his lap, his thighs against your thighs, hardness against softness, bringing your lips to his, sudden and sweet with your legs, knuckles, knees. Jungkook smirked, white teeth and canines flashing, urging you to him.

"What a good little girl,” he breathed softly. “I can be anything you desire. All you need to do is tell me."

Your eyes locked with his.

"A kiss, please."

He groaned at the small plea, finally getting it out of you, finally, and he would make you regret doing this, sow every seed of desire within you and reap it all, turn you into his pet on a leash. All he had to do was kiss you.

Jungkook kissed you.

He pressed his lips to yours, ravenous to consume what you had, eager to claim his offering.

You smiled against his lips, a small, amused smile.

It was instant, his hunger to your plushness, the rush euphoric and wild, immediate lust and power dominating him and now he could taste your tongue and fling open the doors, clawing for the soul within, the moment so close he could taste it, taste your moan sliding into his throat, his favorite treat, intoxicating in the way you sucked in his breath to fill your longs.

Jungkook arrived at the last gate, tearing through the door. Looked down into the abyss, triumphant.

You looked back up at him from below.

A small, amused smile.

A nothingness like he had never felt before.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open and widened, staring into the reflective glass of yours, his chest constricted. He had never felt this. Your lips still on his, tongue flicking, taking his breath, and then he felt a strange kind of compression, like everything was being pressurized, tighter, tighter, suffocating, and he gasped in your mouth, recoiling.

The kiss broke, your eyes still on his, lips shiny with his saliva. Your hand was outstretched, hovering in the air, fingers coated with black tendrils mixed with ice-silver, right above his chest.

Your eyes, void of anything but himself.

“What…” Jungkook breathed, hard cock straining against his slacks. “Are you?”

He didn’t understand. You were only a human. Only a human who had done a very stupid thing, summoning the Devil and his right-hand demon to your bedroom. Just a stupid, foolish human. You tilted your head. Lowered your hand and placed both hands on Jungkook’s thighs. He tensed. You pressed your fingers into his slacks, kneading the firm flesh underneath.

Where was your fear? Your malice? Your innocence?

Where was your desire?

He could only feel his own, rising, rearing its beautiful head, teeth bared and ready to strike as your fingers drummed against the fabric of his pants. You had tried to take something from him in midst of the kiss.

Part of his soul.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” he hissed, forceful and direct.

You stopped moving your fingers. He wanted to scream in dismay.

“Only a small thing.” Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “A token to remember our fateful meeting.”

Now, only now, did Jungkook not like this.

You removed one hand from his leg and Jungkook clenched his jaw, watching it rise, nearing his heaving chest, the black chains spreading apart, links snapping with ice-silver sparks, but he was still bound, still chained, and he did now know why and not knowing infuriated him. You stopped, right above his heart, the heart he forgot was there sometimes.

The true irony of this world was that angels gave up their hearts to serve the one above and demons kept them to serve themselves.

Jungkook felt it again, the compression of his insides, making his breath hitch and his teeth grind, the sensation unbearable. Your expression remained the same, the small, airless smile. Eyes reflecting his terror.

“I could take it just like this.”

Not a threat, only a statement. Only a testament to the power within you, a power that Jungkook was beginning to think wasn’t something he knew or understood. The Devil could take souls. He could reap them, he could tear them, he could wring them dry. But not like this.

“I will give you a choice,” you murmured, hand retreating, releasing him from the uncomfortable pressure. “Because everyone deserves a choice, don’t they?”

The chains were lessening, slowly slipping off Jungkook’s body.

“I’ll let you give it to me willingly.”

Your hand on his pants caressed the fabric.

“If you have the power to take it,” Jungkook snarled. “Why not take it?”

Your other hand found his other thigh, squeezing lightly, sparks of heat flying through his veins. The chains slid off him, clashing into the hardwood floor and turning to ice-silver liquid that faded to nothing.

“I do not want to take.”

You stopped your touches and Jungkook wanted to scream.

“It will feel better for you if you give.”

He raised on eyebrow. “Considerate of you.”

You smiled wider. He stared into your eyes and only saw himself.

“What do you think, Jeon Jungkook, the Devil’s right-hand man?”

He felt the tendons on his neck tense, expression twisting into anger. You shouldn’t know his name. You were a human. You would only know if he told you directly. Someone else was behind this. Someone who wanted to kill him and the Devil, thereby putting Hell itself in imbalance.

“How do you know my name?” he seethed.

“You told me.”

What?

“When you looked into her eyes, you told her your name,” confirmed a deep, cavernous voice.

Jungkook started, whipping his head to the Devil beside him. No longer chained, simply sitting lazily on the ground, one knee raised to rest an elbow on it. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Getting soft, Jungkookie?” the Devil taunted.

How…? Was he so absorbed in his own lust and deceiving you that he did not realize? He looked back at you. Your eyes lowered to his slacks and then back up to his eyes.

“Pants can always come off.”

Jungkook raised a hand, running it through his black hair, jaw set. “You are too greedy, human. Do you even know what you’re doing?” he sneered.

Your hands jerked down a few centimeters closer to his crotch, making Jungkook hiss. Your tongue slid out, feathering against the plush dark mauve of your lips. His cock throbbed with need, demanding to abuse the mouth presented. You leaned forward, putting more of your weight on him, welcome weight that Jungkook wanted all over him. He was a demon, after all. He was no stranger to carnal desire.

“I do,” you murmured softly. “You and me and the Devil makes three.”

Jungkook sharpened his gaze. “You couldn’t handle that, human.”

You said nothing.

You simply removed your heat and turned to the Devil, where Yoongi held the little goat-man plush by a single hoof, dangling it next to his lap, making your crawl into it to reach the doll. It was almost an innocent gesture, the way you took it and tucked it into your lap before looking up at Yoongi’s face, lips parted slightly, nearly curious, childlike awe decorating your features.

Jungkook growled like a hurt animal.

Your eyes shifted to him, looking at him under lowered lashes. Dismissive, vacant gaze.

“Yes or no, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Yes.”

The thin black string between you and him darkened, searing with ice-silver, a contract made. He didn’t even know the terms. He didn’t care. No human could outsmart him. And you, you must have been human once.

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t know if you were human anymore.

-

Yoongi watched your eyes return to him. The little black goat-man plush was tucked between your legs, pressed against your core. Slowly but surely, he was understanding. The original vessel was human, now tainted by someone, something, or simply bad luck. It made you something else entirely. You were a creature from the realm of Order polluted by the realm of Disorder. How long could this last? Would you die eventually from it? When you died, what would be left? Was the soul still there? Would he be able to collect it? Contain it? Study it?

Yoongi didn’t know the answers to these questions.

He wanted to know.

“Your turn,” you whispered to his chin, warm breath against his skin. “What is your answer, my Devil?”

Yoongi chuckled. “A shard of soul is all you ask for?” he purred. “What for?”

You tilted your head. “I want to complete my collection.”

The Devil doubted that. He doubted you wanted anything. Something was driving the entropy in a direction, a purpose given to the original human you long ago, and now you did it because it was the only thing left in the shell, a memory of a purpose, the human determination so strong that it could not be killed or erased, even though this body was now only a container for the power within.

The Devil had spent a lot of his time lately doing nothing. Nothing fun, nothing exciting, nothing worthy of his attention. Yoongi already knew everything there was to know about humans. He cared not for those above. But this.

This was new.

This was different.

This was something he wasn’t supposed to know.

He raised his hand, fingers tracing your jaw, staring into the eyes of Chaos. The Entropy. The Vessel.

You.

“I’ll be part of your collection, little one,” Yoongi purred.

And you will be mine, he vowed as the black string between you and the Devil glowed, ice-silver magic contaminating it with the power of Disorder.

-

part ii the collection. if you get in bed, someone will fall in love

--

masterpost

[haloshornsinkstains]

Kisses Under the Mistletoe:   (Formerly) Undateables Edition

I’m enjoying these mistletoe kisses headcanons too much, I should have started earlier. I’m trying to get a few more festive pieces written before Christmas, and hopefully some for New Years (intermittent inernet problems permitting). And make this place a bit prettier.

Diavolo

When Diavolo called for you to visit his office you thought you were prepared for just about anything, after all you’d had plenty of experience of his eccentricities and whims at this point.

So when he started grilling you on festive traditions in the human world while you sat beside him at his desk you weren’t exactly surprised, although the breadth of the information he’d gathered to grill you on was a little overwhelming.

You almost felt bad admitting you weren’t particularly familiar with the festival of Saturnalia, partly because of the way Diavolo’s face fell and partly because it sounded wild. 

As you progressed through various traditions you grew more and more comfortable, shedding the usual layer of formality that being in Diavolo’s presence seemed to make you grow, adding your own anecdotes about traditions you followed personally.

He’s writing things down, and you assume, making plans for some kind of festive celebration in the Devildom. It’s all so normal you let your guards down, and as such, get blindsided by his next question.

“What about mistletoe? What is the importance of mistletoe?”

You blink a few times, trying to get the cogs in your brain to function properly. “Oh, um, it’s become tradition to kiss under mistletoe. I think it’s supposed to bring luck…”

Diavolo frowns, retrieving something from his drawer and holding it out to you to inspect. “Then perhaps I should ask Asmodeus why he gifted me this?”

You’re staring at the mistletoe like it’s going to jump out and bite you. (Stranger things have happened in the Devildom, even if this particular plant looks pretty harmless).

“Oh!” Diavolo beams in a way that worries you. “I suppose we should kiss now!”

y/n.exe has stopped working

“I… I can’t! Lucifer would kill me! I mean, you’re the Future King and I’m just… me?”

Diavolo frowns and for a moment you see your life flash before your eyes. If for no other reason than Lucifer is probably going to murder you for upsetting his Lord. 

“But, y/n, I would like to kiss you if you would let me.” He’s still grinning mischievously but his eyes are soft with affection. “You’re special y/n. And if Lucifer shouts we can just tell him it was my idea, he rarely shouts at me.”

Your cheeks are on fire but you nod, letting Diavolo cup your face between two large hands and press his lips to yours. The kiss is warm and gentle, almost chaste. He kisses you like he’s afraid he’ll break you, and to be fair he probably could, but it leaves you heart racing and lips tingling when he pulls away.

Barbatos

It’s only been two days and Barbatos would very much like to find out who exactly told his Lord all about human festive traditions, in particular who gave him a record of ‘festive’ music. He just wants to talk. (Not that he would ever say this to Diavolo, he is an impeccable butler after all).

You had been roped in to coming to the castle to help with the decorations, but as you wandered past the kitchen with a box of tinsel and baubles you heard a tired sigh that sounded awfully familiar.

Popping your head through the door you spot Barbatos frowning at a mixing bowl.

“Everything alright in here?”

Barbatos never jumps at anything, but his eyes do look a fraction wider than usual when he turns to look at you.

“Perhaps you could assist me? Lord Diavolo asked me to make a ‘Christmas Cake’, if you’re familiar I could use your expertise. I’m not as experienced with baking human world delicacies.”

 You grin, stepping inside and settling your box down on an unused counter and heading to his side to help. “There are some things even you don’t know?” You laugh softly, looking down at the mixing bowl. “It’s been a while since I made one, but I can try to help? The secret to my grandma’s recipe was usually a lot of alcohol though, she’d bake it months in advance and keep topping it up...”

The two of you bake together, and if Barbatos notices the pink flush on your cheeks whenever your body bruises against his, or when he wipes flour from your cheek, he is polite enough not to mention it.

You’ve just put the cake in the oven when Barbatos moves over to the forgotten box of decorations, rifling through curiously before pulling something out.

“Y/N, are there supposed to be plants in here?”

You walk over to see what he’s talking about just as Lord Diavolo walks in with a beaming smile.

“Y/N! Here you are! Oh, I know what that is!” He’s gesturing to what you now realise is mistletoe dangling between Barbatos’ gloved fingers. “That’s mistletoe, Asmodoeus and Solomon were telling me all about it. You’re supposed to kiss under it for luck!”

You’re making up a plan to murder your friends for teaching Diavolo about this while Barbatos studies you thoughtfully.

“If you’ll allow me?”

His voice startles you and you look back up at him for a moment before the words register. You just managed to squeak out a yes before he kisses you and you almost feel your soul ascend out of your body. Barbatos’ kiss is precise and practiced in a way that reminds you just how many more centuries of experience he has on you.

There’s nothing obscene or improper about the kiss, but when you pull away you’re feeling lightheaded and a little weak in the knees. Barbatos smiles just a little before turning back to Diavolo.

“Now, about the cake my lord.”

Simeon

Simeon, unlike the demons, seems to be at least somewhat aware of human world festive celebrations. Some of his knowledge is a bit out of date, but he’s better at this than you expected.

By the time you get to Purgatory hall the place is already pretty well decorated, the decorations lean more towards the religious but you still find tinsel and even a few paper snowflakes dotted here and there.

Simeon greets you as you enter their main common area with a beatific smile and an excited wave. “Oh Y/N, Solomon said there was something I should show you.”

You follow him, only a little wary, Solomon might cause trouble on occasion but Simeon is usually not involved. Usually.

He stops in one of the doorways that you’re pretty sure you’ve never been near before. In fact the corridor behind it looks pretty much unused. It doesn’t bode well for this being entirely innocent, though at least with Simeon involved it’s probably safe.

Coming to a halt he gestures up and you look up towards a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway. Which would explain why it was so far from the frequently used areas of the halls. You smile softly, shifting your gaze from the mistletoe to Simeon.

“Solomon told you to show me this hmm?” You grin, noting the way Simeon’s eyes flick away from yours. “Did he tell you why?”

“Maybe he mentioned it, maybe he didn’t.”

You laugh, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss that leaves you both breathless and flustered. For all he is an angel, Simeone seems to know an awful lot about kissing and how to do it so you’re weak in the knees.

“You know, if you wanted to kiss me you only had to ask.”

“But this seemed seasonally appropriate.” He hums, gently stroking your hair.

“Very seasonally appropriate. And I guess we don’t need to worry about Luke wandering up here and scolding us.” You laugh, kissing his cheek softly.

“Ah yes, that too.”

Solomon

Any mistletoe shenanigans are entirely Solomon’s own doing and he knows exactly what he’s up to.

He’s been helping you with your magical studies recently, much to Satan’s chagrin, and this evening you decided to study in the House of Lamentation in front of the warmth of the fire.

The night starts wearing on and after a few hours of study you’re getting restless. Solomon pauses to glance over at you and sighs. He knows as well as you do that you’re no longer taking this in.

“Shall we take a break?”

You sigh in relief. “Please? I can make us some tea.”

He nods and follows you to the kitchen where Asmo, Mammon and Belphie were sat in the middle of a discussion. You greeted them happily, laughing as Asmo flirted happily with Solomon. You keep up idle conversation while you make tea, missing the small gesture Solomon makes with a free hand and the ripple of magic in the air.

“Hmm, Y/N, what’s that above your head?”

You pause, glancing up as Solomon sidles over with a smile. You were sure you hadn’t noticed the mistletoe hanging there before, and it was a strange place to put mistletoe, but then again you were busy chatting so maybe it had just slipped your mind.

“You’re familiar with the tradition right?”

Solomon holds your chin between two fingers, suddenly very close, his eyes studying your face questioningly. Somewhere in the background you can hear Mammon exploding and Asmo talking about romance but it’s all lost on you with Solomon’s lips hovering so close to your own. 

You don’t trust your voice to answer him, but you do just about manage to nod. You catch the expression of triumph for a brief second before he kisses you. You expected something quick and chaste, but those expectations were swiftly dashed when you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip. Any other day you know you’d have given in, but the clamour of voices behind you are a stark reminder of where you are and who your audience is so you press gently against his chest.

“Oi! Whaddya think you’re doin’ kissing my human like that?!”

“Oh hush Mammon, I think it’s very sweet.”

Embarrassed, you grab the tea and Solomon’s arm, practically dragging him out of the kitchen with Belphie’s eyes burning holes in your back.

“You did that on purpose!”

Solomon shrugged. “Perhaps I just saw an excuse to kiss that gorgeous face of yours and took it?”

“No one hangs mistletoe above a teapot! You did that to annoy them… wait, did you just call me gorgeous?”

“Perhaps. Now, shall we get back to studying?”

You were going to murder him one day. Maybe after another kiss though.

[know-the-way]

So Zelda definitely says she doesn’t love Faustus to Hilda, but I’ve seen some people say Zelda was never even attracted to him and it was all for show, so she probably never really liked men. Wondering your thoughts on that.

I mean, people are welcome to headcanon whatever they like. Fiction can be argued for a lot of different perspectives. But if you’re basing it purely on what we saw in the show… my thoughts are that I personally disagree with that assessment re: Faustus specifically (which is, I’m sure, why you asked lol). Like going back to season one and into season 2, up until That Really Horrible Thing happened, if we’re just talking about Zelda being attracted to him? Well…

Let’s go through these one by one.

1. Lupercalia -

So Faustus has 100% orchestrated this moment in the woods: “Oh oops, too many baskets with various romantic supplies and aphrodisiacs, and just us two here under a full moon. Damn, that’s crazy, ain’t it Sister Zelda? Wild coincidence. Would you care to lie down on this blanket with me and let me run my fingers through your hair? Ya know… for Satan? Or something idk hehe?”

And, of course, Zelda knows damn well that it’s been orchestrated (hence the cheeky grin when she swings the basket over her arm), which means she has the upper hand and she is absolutely aware of that. Also meaning, if she wanted to - she could keep him exactly where she has him, with him very clearly trying to win her back but her turning him down anyway (in order to make him work harder for it).

But she doesn’t. In fact, she barely makes him work for it at all. He basically lets out a sly “such a shame we aren’t fucking anymore, otherwise my head would already be buried between your thighs… but like, I respect your wishes and stuff XD” and that’s all it takes for her to throw her own rules out the window in order to get railed on the forest floor (“one night of carnality won’t kill us”).

Can you confidently say she allowed herself to be wooed (like homeboy actually romanced her, who knew he had it in him) that night without being attracted to Faustus at all? Without a shadow of a doubt? Perhaps, but I really don’t think so.

2. You Will Flagellate Me aND I wiLL fLagELLate yOu -

… I mean.

Her eyes literally roll into the back of her head and she can barely speak.

I could say more, but why? Speaks for itself, imo.

3. Master of The Hunt -

Once again, she has to take a shaky breath mid-sentence and smile to herself just to power through the thought of him Being In Charge. If it isn’t, at the very least, physical attraction, then Aunt Z probably needs to see a respiratory therapist ‘cause that kind of random strain on your windpipe can’t be good.

4. The Afterglow -

So to the point of it “being all for show” - in this particular moment of this particular scene, who does she need to convince or perform for? If it’s all an act, why keep it up when no one’s looking? It’s an empty kitchen until Hilda walks in and sees her usually-stern sister noticeably blissed out over breakfast.

What is she blissed out for? Well, again you could technically argue that it’s for anything. Maybe she’s daydreaming about a luxury spa or something. But considering the scene with Zelda preceding it was an impassioned kiss with the high priest on her parlor floor… AND that she does the voice-crack thing when asked what she’s up to that day (“I believe the… h-high priest is c-calling”)… something tells me that a particular dumbass warlock and what he’s able to make her body do is probably what’s on her mind.

Now, all that being said, does any of this confirm what Zelda’s “true” sexuality? Absolutely not. Maybe Faustus was an exception and she otherwise has only ever fancied women. I know Miranda herself has shared her thoughts on Zelda’s sexuality, which is that she doesn’t want to label it and she thinks Zelda could be attracted to any and all genders. No label - just as it would be for a real-life, breathing person - is 100% valid. Sexuality isn’t fluid for everyone, but it is for some and that is okay!

And if the question were just “is Zelda attracted to men” - I think that is absolutely up for fair debate and she could be written for many different identities. But the question here I more so interpreted to be “was Zelda attracted to Faustus,” who happens to be a man, and… based on observable evidence in the show (and novels, which I didn’t include here ‘cause not everyone has read them)… yeah, I think she was. And I think he really cared for her, too. Which is what makes it all so painful and sad. lol

If only she hadn’t stolen his baby and had a less destructive niece - and if only he hadn’t been such an insufferable little twat, ya know? *sigh*

[nefoe-dd]

SO SMT AU AM I RIGHT GAMERS

I mentioned this in the tags of another post and joked about it in Discord but my brain went brrrr during my last class of the day and now I lowkey have a full plot starting to form lol.

Keep in mind the only Shin Megami Tensei game I’ve played myself is the Nocturne remake, plus I only really remember bits of the plot of 4 and whatever we’ve been given so far of 5 so I’m not super well versed in the series.

Also I’ll add this to the tags too but DSMP Spoilers specifically for the contents of Techno’s Will exist in this post, because that is where the idea for this came from. A lot of other JRPGs have similar plotlines but I specifically thought of SMT because its kind of a meme specifically for that at this point how the plot always seems to have the same type ending bosses. 

Also some spoilers for Shin Megami Tensei IV

ANYWAYS

Now Presenting: An AU where Techno’s Limbo is an SMT Game lol

(Under a ‘Read More’ because it got way ahead of me)

An Introduction to Relevant SMT terminology:

Demons: Makes up a large majority of the characters in the game. They are the enemies that you face in combat, and its possible to recruit them to your team through various means. Some demons exist in the overworld though, and can be talked to normally, they’re chill most of the time, unless you do something to tick them off. ‘Demon’ is not taken literally by the Christian definition, they are based off of various figures in folklore and religion around the world, some are even based on Gods and Angels.

Law vs Chaos: Many SMT games have multiple endings based on these two alignments, along with the neutral alignment. It is usually decided by some important decisions the player makes throughout the game. I’m most aware of the SMT 4 ending, in which the route you are on decides the final dungeon, the character you team with for the ending, and the final boss (its either Satan or the in-game version of God). It’s based off of the traditional interpretation of these two, where Law represents the importance of authority, and Chaos represents the importance of freedom. 

Another note is that a lot of SMT games take place in a post-apocalyptic world of some kind, which, spoiler, is the case here.

General Plot Details and Worldbuilding:

- Techno dies in the prison. The stasis chamber fails and Quackity succeeds in killing him. Permanently. 

- Despite dying, he wakes up again in the main prison cell, but things are different. The lava isn’t blocking the entrance anymore, (in fact there isn’t any lava at all), and he’s alone. Upon peering outside the main cell, he notices a bit of sky peeking through the prison ceiling, like it had been broken into. 

- The drop down to the bottom floor is long, but he’s dead, so he just shrugs and jumps down so he can see what’s going on. Turns out there are several holes in this part of the prison, in fact there are multiple on the ground, likely where the lava had escaped from. (Obviously Minecraft lava specifically doesn’t work like that, I’m pretty sure in the DreamSMP the bottom is all source blocks, but just ignore that bit). 

- He exits from the back wall of the prison, and everything there so far looks normal, except for the fact that there appears to be less trees than normal. Of the trees that are still there, many of them were cut down and never collected, and some appear to have fallen over due to some damage.

- Techno goes around the prison to the front, and that’s when he notices some things that are very wrong. Various parts of the prison, not just the main cell, are also sitting destroyed. Many cracks, scuff marks and full-on chunks are missing on the walls. The usual entrance which houses the nether portal is hardly still standing, and he can see straight into the main lobby where the portal would lead into once you were let through. 

- The surrounding areas are not much better. Tommy’s outpost is toppled over in the distance, only the base and bottom floor are left standing. The tents near the beach are collapsed and destroyed, the only remnants of one of them is a small piece of fabric ripped from the main bit and laying on the ground. Skeppy and Badboyhalo’s mansion is crumbling where it stands, half of the back wall and ceiling are gone. And that’s only what’s visible from here. 

- The rest of the server is also in various states of destruction, the spawn walls are hardly left standing, the main nether portal area is covered in potholes, none of the portals are active. The prime path is rotted and broken in most areas, the buildings along it are not faring much better than the ones he’d seen before. And the further he gets away from the prison, the more the plants themselves appear to be dead or dying. 

- L’manburg’s crater looks much the same as it once did right after its destruction, albeit with more debris at the bottom which had fallen from the sides as they slowly eroded. The flag at the bottom is torn up and discoloured, honestly its hardly recognizable. The nature that had finally begun to reclaim the land has slowly been dying instead over time, and the bridge overtop has completely collapsed. The only thing still standing, is the ever present obsidian grid that looms over it in the sky. He supposes that whatever disaster had caused this wasn’t able to reach that high up, or that it was at least in part done by someone that liked the way it looked. Not that there seems to be a need for the reminder anymore. 

- Something something, he finds out DreamXD is here, and that he might have had something to do with how this world looks. And as much as it shouldn’t matter in the afterlife, he did promise Phil he would be killing God sooooo he goes on a mission to do just that. He can do pretty much anything now that he really doesn’t have to worry about dying, so why not. He has no reason to care about some God, especially when they’re the only ones left.

- Some DSMP people hang around the world and are represented by certain demons, the mostly chill ones that kinda just hang around in the apocalyptic scenery. They don’t recognize him, it isn’t really the people he knows after all, but they are willing to talk to him since they can tell he isn’t human either. He learns little bits of what happened through them, and learns where DreamXD resides, that being one of the strongholds that’s a bit further out. 

- Unfortunately, due to the portals being inactive, and his inability to break anything efficiently, or even at all, he has to travel using the overworld. Along the way he manages to speak to some others, this allows him to better locate where the God is, although it doesn’t seem to be hiding out. He even sees it sometimes flying around, which he uses to follow where its hiding. 

- Some of the random demons he runs into recognize that he’s not supposed to be here (according to them at least), so he has to fight his way through them. Luckily, many of the friendly demons that he talks to end up tagging along in order to help, thus making up a team he can use to get through them instead.

 - There’s probably a demon that seems to resemble Phil somewhere, living alone (alone for so so long) away from everyone in an arctic house perhaps. If I wanted to really up the angst, the demon takes a liking to Techno right away, which is partly how Techno is able to tell its him so quickly. The more they talk, the more Techno realizes how lonely the Phil he knows must be without him there, how upset he’d be once he reads the will and finds out what happened to him. Thus he’s more motivated to, you know, fight God, in an attempt to figure out what the hell happened. (DXD is the only entity existing here that also exists where he’s from, he can guess pretty easily that maybe, just maybe, they are one and the same). Thus, he is given a choice that he knows he will have to make in the future. 

- Eventually he manages to find the stronghold and comes face to face with DreamXD himself. DreamXD is just kinda chillin there, they fight, through DreamXD doesn’t seem to be putting in too much effort, almost like it does not want to win. 

- Techno wins (duh), and he is left with a choice, a choice to finish the job, or spare the god and allow it to go free. And, well, he feels that he doesn’t really have the right to decide whether it lives or dies, and while its possible that DreamXD caused whatever disaster created the current state of the world, but he doesn’t know that for sure. DreamXD has done nothing this whole time he’s been here, and its done nothing to him or his companions.

- He chooses to leave it alone, and DreamXD seems to know that it was always going to end that way. 

- DreamXD disappears, and Techno wakes up in the cell again post-revival, the prison and the world around it is the same as he remembers

(I don’t remember the exact real-world to limbo time difference but I imagine that it felt like, a day, maybe half that, while irl it was only a few minutes to an hour.)

Some other notes/details:

- The other possible ending would have resulted in Techno killing DreamXD and being given ANOTHER choice to take its power over the world, or just leave and stay there forever. Basically DreamXD’s existence is vital to the power of the revival book, and it’s death would have resulted in Dream not being successful in his revival attempts. Obviously we have no idea how the powers actually work yet, but I just came up with an explanation because I thought it would be interesting. You can decide on your own which of these endings fall into Law, Chaos or Neutral because uh, its complicated given the scenario. You can also decide if letting DreamXD live even fits into his character! Idk! But its not like DreamXD’s being oppressive by any means, not that there’s anyone to oppress here anyways. That’s my logic anyways.

- I don’t know what demons would represent specific people, I’d like to use one of the Angels for Phil but the Demons based on Angels usually have an important role in the plot that is in line with the Law alignment and like, protecting god or whatever, so no. There are a couple bird ones but idk if they fit the vibe, idk it could work, I’d have to look at a list if I want to go into this further.

- I kinda want Eret to be an Inugami because it’s body does that thing that ferret’s do when they’re all stretched out :) The only reason I’m hesitant is because Inugami is a dog, and Goose deserves representation.

- The reason I imagined for why Techno can’t break anything is because the mining fatigue lasted throughout this because he died with it, it’d get in the way of fighting too but at least it isn’t weakness, and he’s not alone either.

Uhhhhh that’s it for now I think!

(will potentially add to this if I figure something else out in the future)

[indiavolowetrust]

The Obey Me! Boys and a Blind!MC

**MC is considered to have NLP (No Light Perception) and is classed as having total visual impairment / total blindness.

**O&M (Orientation and Mobility) skills are skills that aid in safe and effective travel for the blind, which includes cane skills and independent travel.

Lucifer

He is incredibly surprised to have pulled someone like you into the Devildom, especially considering how dangerous the Devildom is to the able-bodied human. He gives you a double-take and glances back at Diavolo once or twice to make absolute sure that is the right human. Diavolo gives him a thumbs up. Lucifer can already feel a stress headache.

Likely the most courteous of his brothers in consideration with your disability. Unlike his brothers, he does not ask inappropriate questions (ex. Can you see this? How about this? How about now?) and is content to leave things as they are.

The first week, nearly everything you do gives him a heart attack. Your cane misses a fire hydrant, and you end up stubbing your toe on it. You forget where the table ended when you pick up something, and you smash the back of your head against the underside. You leave something in the middle of your room, trip and fall in the middle of the night while cursing, and within moments he is bursting through the door. By the end of the week, he is a sleepless, exhausted mess.

As one of the prominent members at RAD, he is responsible for what documents you receive and in which format you receive those documents. You have to explain to him that simply placing Braille where the letters would normally be on a worksheet isn’t exactly as doable as he thinks it is.

Being the proud bastard he is -- and after developing feelings for you -- he is somewhat perturbed that you prefer his idiot-brother Mammon to be your guide whenever they go out to places. He does take the pleasure of explaining visual cues of the places they go, however.

Mammon

He is both surprised and disgruntled that he has to take care of a human that isn’t able-bodied. Assumes that you’ll be even more trouble than your worth. Does a few things (i.e. offensive, stupid things) like wave his hand in front of your face and do weird things in front of you just to see if you’ll react. Given that his complete lack of subtlety and the fact that you can very much feel his arm waving in front of you, you scare the living hell out of him by grabbing his arm.

As brash and rude as he was, however, he does an okay job of orienting you to the House of Lamentation. But that might also be due to the simplistic layout of the halls. The places that you really need to know -- like the path to your room from the door and the path to the kitchen and dining area -- are easy to memorize thanks to his efforts.

Like Lucifer, nearly every blunder you make gives Mammon a heart attack (for fear that Lucifer will kill him if you die). He doesn’t really understand what can and can’t kill a human, but it doesn’t take long for him to realize that slipping and falling face-first into carpet isn’t exactly life-threatening.

As he begins to develop a crush on you, he becomes more and more possessive about who gets to guide you around. He was your first guy and first guide in the Devildom, after all. You eventually feel comfortable enough with him as a guide to fold up your cane while you walk with him, trusting him completely.

Leviathan

He expects you to look like one of those blind girls in anime and is surprised to see the near-complete lack of trademark features. You have no cataracts or anything of the sort that would promote the appearance of milky-white eyes, and you’re rather capable on your own once you become acquainted with the layout of a place. Because of this -- and also because he is a massive weeb -- you can feel the weight of his stare when you do the most habitual things. You call him out the fifth or sixth time you catch him watching you take out the trash.

It takes a little while to realize the extent of your blindness. Your proficient independence skills, good O&M (orientation and mobility skills), and spatial awareness skills throws him off for a bit. He is only convinced when he accidentally makes you walk face-first into his door.

Despite your rocky introduction, you two eventually bond over anime. Levi puts on the audio description when it’s available. When it isn’t he’s more than happy to explain the visuals to you, especially when it’s his fortieth time rewatching TSL.

As he develops a crush on you, he begins to make more and more excuses for you two to watch anime together, even if it isn’t new or the kind that he would want to watch. He takes note of your likes and dislikes, taking the approach much like he would a boss in a dungeon, and copes with his feelings that way.

Satan

Next to Lucifer, he’s definitely one of the most respectful in the group regarding your condition. He takes it upon himself to read as much as he can about your condition and blindness in general, his initial interest more scholarly than anything. The first few weeks that you know him are filled with questions like: So, can you see light? How much light can you see? Can you see figures or shadows at all? What was it like when you had more vision?

He feel regret after threatening you when you refused to make a pact with him. Aside from the fact that he just threatened a blind (and in his opinion) helpless human, he also severely damaged a friendship between the both of you. He makes it up to you in his own way afterwards by acquiring a number of audiobooks and Braille books for you to read.

Given his insatiable thirst for knowledge, he is also very, very interested in how you can read Braille and how you take tests without sight. After learning that you sometimes prefer requesting a scribe to take longer exams, he immediately tries to sign himself up as a student scribe at RAD. As you are one of the only students at RAD with a visual impairment -- and perhaps the only one -- you are surprised and also not surprised to see Satan waiting in the exam area for you, your exam evidently in front of him.

As his feelings develop for you, they take the form of finding reasons to take you out to library dates, accompanying you to various stores for accessible equipment, finding and acquiring various reading materials for you, and generally just inserting himself whenever possible under the pretense of being a fellow book-lover.

Asmodeus

He’s preoccupied more with the fact that you have such a plain taste in clothing than he is about your blindness. Even after standing by the principle that comfort is ultimately more important than “making a statement”, he takes it upon himself to get you at least enough clothing for a decent capsule wardrobe. Cue being dragged around the Devildom’s boutiques all day as he dresses you up in various outfits, undresses you (his favorite part), and ultimately entertains himself the whole time while you suffer.

He’s fascinated by the tactile guides that you use to do your makeup (on the rare occasion that you bother to do so). After watching you a few times, he gets you up to date on the latest makeup trends and does his best to explain the visual effect of each. Your interest in his hobby makes him happier than he would admit. It sparks a routine of doing your beauty regimen together almost every night, with Asmo being more than happy to make you his guinea pig for products.

Makes you touch his face right after learning that you’re blind, which is an awkward experience. Your first reaction to pull your hands back and startle offends him, as he (wrongly) believes that that’s what you do when you meet a blind human.

As he develops feelings for you, he gets somehow even more touchy, much to the irritation of the rest of his brothers. While he never quite makes the first move in the way of taking you to bed, he does take as many opportunities to touch and explore you as much as possible, no matter what the circumstance may be.

Beelzebub

Despite that fact that he would very much like to eat you, his impression of you as a cute, helpless little thing deters him from doing so. Given his impressive height and stature, he sees you as smaller than you really are and treats you accordingly. He takes the time to redirect you when he sees you wandering in the halls, often without many words or any explanation as to why, and he tends to act as a human shield for you in RAD to prevent you from being caught up in the crowd.

When Mammon isn’t there to be your guide, he’s definitely your second choice because of his sheer size. Similarly, you eventually become comfortable enough with him to fold up your cane when he guides you, as your impression of him has devolved from “big, scary demon” into “scary but gentle giant”.

Stands up for you when other students begin making fun of you for your disability / wondering if you’re only faking, given that you don’t fit into the able-bodied person’s idea of what a blind person should look like. Beelzebub catches wind after a few weeks, and after a rumor of certain hospitalized demons, the bullying ceases.

Connects with you through food. While you’re pretty sure that having no sight doesn’t make much of an impact on your ability to taste food, Beel seems to think otherwise. He tends to hand-feed you whatever it is that he’s eating at the moment, often surprising you. You figure it’s Beel’s choice of love language, given that he that he tries to feed his brothers anything and everything when they feel upset.

Likewise, he often chooses to team up with you on dinner duty to both make things easier for you and to sneak more food because you can’t see him. When you feel less servings than there should be in the pot, however, you know damned well who ate the rest.

Belphegor

Upon first meeting you, he’s very confused as to how exactly you found his prison in the attic. Then again, it’s not like he cares exactly who lets him out of his prison. Because of that, he thinks it’s much easier to fool you into thinking that he’s human.

He feels extreme remorse after killing you, knowing fully that he used your trust against you and that he took advantage of your disability. It takes a long time for you to get comfortable enough to be even with the same room with him, given that he quite literally murdered you in another timeline. When he does somehow manage to regain your trust -- after many attempts and efforts on his part -- you two end up falling asleep together.

Becomes just as protective over you as Beel is, essentially taking notes from his twin. As his feelings develop towards you, he shows it in his own way: namely by allowing you to touch his massive tactile collection of comforters, blankets, and pillows. How exactly he stuffed so many bedsheets and pillows into one room is ... impressive.

Note:I am aware that this does not speak for all blind people because there are varying levels and very, very many causes for blindness. These are based on my own personal experiences.

[ruewrites]

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 10: Confessions

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 4335

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

Asmo’s could hear his brothers whispering whenever they thought he couldn’t. Some part of him knew Mammon wouldn’t keep quiet about what happened. Not that he couldn’t. He could have, but this was coming out of a place of concern. Not that Mammon would have had to tell them anything. Asmo had spent a majority of time holed up in his rooms. Sometimes quiet sobs would escape his bedroom door, other times were spent in silent contemplation about what to do. His stomach had continued to tie itself up into knots, anxieties plaguing his mind. There was a chance that maybe Solomon liked him, but then the chance that he didn’t would immediately come to mind. He could stay quiet about the whole thing and have Solomon in his life forever, or he could tell him and risk the chance of ruining everything. But what if Solomon did return his feelings?  

Solomon’s hoodie stared up at him from the bed. Asmo knew he probably shouldn’t be looking at it when trying to make a decision. Hell, he’d barely been answering Solomon’s texts when they came in, sometimes not at all. He wasn’t even posting on his socials. He just needed a few minutes with a clear head, he needed Solomon to stop invading his thoughts just long enough to make a decision. 

A new letter hadn’t come in in a while either. Secret had been quiet. Honestly, it made this whole mess even more fantastic. Maybe he did have a stalker. That was a pleasant thought. Maybe they saw all of his pictures with Solomon. Maybe he would have to get Lucifer and Diavolo involved. Maybe he would have to go into hiding, maybe he would have to move all of his classes online, maybe he was putting Solomon’s life in danger. Maybe he should still accept them, put everything to a quiet agreement. They had said really nice things after all, or if they were crazy maybe it would keep Solomon safe. Oh he shouldn’t be thinking like this! His last relationship had been a complete dumpster fire, and now he was talking himself into walking straight into a nuclear meltdown. What was wrong with him? Why was he so complacent with these thoughts? He wanted to be happy, but right now the only happy scenario he could imagine was with Solomon, and he wasn’t even sure that was a possibility. All the while Solomon’s hoodie stared up at him, tempting him, and his notification rang out once more. Solomon was probably worried and that didn’t help anything at all!

Oh this situation was just wonderful! Everything was a mess and Asmo didn’t know which mess to start with first. It was too much, but how could he involve people without making an even bigger mess of the whole situation. Maybe he should have burned the first letter.  He should have agreed with Satan in the cafe when he said it could be bad. He shouldn’t have accepted all of the gifts. He shouldn’t have done this to himself!

….

But then he wouldn’t have felt nearly as wonderful as he had. It was the best and most loved he’d felt in a while. Had he ever truly been in love? Had anyone ever truly loved him? These were questions he didn’t like asking himself. They brought up parts of his behavior that he’d rather not acknowledge. Sure he had issues, all of his brothers had issues. That’s what happened when your parents abandoned you. Asmo just wanted someone that wouldn’t leave. He didn’t want to face that kind of betrayal again. For a moment he thought that Secret could be the one, that they would actually love him for who he was and care for him. Then Solomon started to fill that hole and Asmo stopped resisting.

I won’t leave you. Not in a bajillion years.

Not even a hundred billion?

Not even then!

Ever wonderful Solomon. Always there when he had family issues, when he needed help with assignments, when he was nervous or scared, when he had issues with his relationships. Solomon had kept his promise. He never left, regardless if things were good or bad. He still remembered all the times Solomon had come to get him out of the house after a bad breakup. He’d come into his room, help him get fixed up and offer to take him to his favorite cafe on the corner. If he was in a particularly bad mood he’d bring over snacks and they’d watch terrible movies together. They’d laugh until their sides hurt and rewind bits that were particularly bad just to laugh even more. Solomon knew him so well, he always knew what he needed.

…

He wished he could do that now. He wanted to call Solomon and ask for comfort. He wanted to forget everything and just watch a bad movie like everything was normal. But Solomon was part of the problem, and he couldn’t think straight about what he wanted to do if he was sitting so close to him the entire time. He needed his heart to stop trying to burst out of his chest whenever he thought about him.

Missing Solomon’s presence was something Asmo didn’t want to get used to. A life without Solomon was an empty one. He’d much rather be kept single for the rest of his life because of his brothers than lose Solomon.

 Speaking of his brothers, he hadn’t gotten a text about another stakeout in a while. In fact, his brothers had been relatively quiet about Asmo’s love life. That didn’t mean they’d been completely quiet. Every now and again he’d get a text that told him to open his door, or a quiet little knock. Oh had his brothers been wonderful to him. 

Mammon had bought some rather expensive bath bombs he loved. The ones that glittered and shined as soon as they hit the water, leaving the tub a sparkling mess.The bag they came in also contained bubbles, lotions, and other various items to make the perfect self care day.

Levi left a movie he heard Asmo talk about a few times, along with some games that he claimed helped him take his mind off of things when they weren’t going to great. He’d also left a list of recommendations of shows that he enjoyed and that Asmo might like too.

Satan had brought his normal drink from the cafe with a note attached letting Asmo know that he had all sorts of stories and gossip to tell him whenever he wanted to talk.

Beel had left his favorite cupcakes from the bakery down the street. The ones with cute little sprinkles and pink icing on top.

Belphie left one of his warmest, fuzziest blankets that Asmo ended up staying curled up in most of the time.

Each gift held a piece of one of his brothers. They all put their own twist on showing how much they cared. 

At least there was one place Asmo always knew he would be loved. 

His brothers could be annoying, and may drive him absolutely insane, but he loved them more than anything. They cared about him, even if it wasn’t always vocalized. They’d been through a lot together.

Asmo had a feeling Mammon had pseudo orchestrated the whole thing. After all, he’d seen first hand how upset Asmo had been Friday night.Sure he hadn’t seen the whole thing, but honestly he probably didn’t need to. Mammon was the second oldest after all, he had helped Lucifer take care of them all, even if he wasn’t always the best role model for them.

Perhaps this is why when he heard a knock on his door, he was expecting Mammon. Asmo was curled up in the fuzzy blanket and watching a movie. He’d given up a while ago trying to work on  his latest design. He’d been having a hard time finding inspiration among the mess of petals scattered on the floor. Part of him wanted all of those wonderful feelings back, even if it meant he’d be torturing himself. He reached out to pause the movie, blanket still wrapped around him tightly. He waited a few moments, and then the knock came again. Well, it looks like they wanted to come in. 

“Coming,” he said, plodding over to the door, tightening his grip around the blanket wrapped snugly around him. He forced one of his charming smiles to spread across his face. There wasn’t a point in making them worry more than they already were. This was his issue to sort out, it wasn’t his brothers’ fault he’d given in.

“You know you all-” Asmo couldn’t remember what he was going to say, the words died on his lips before they even had their first shot at seeing the outside world. His blood ran ice cold. This was something he’d forgotten about. Something he should have been equally worried about.

Lucifer stood before him, looking down at Asmo with an unreadable expression. Suddenly Asmo felt incredibly tiny, and part of him wished he was back in the bathroom at the party. “May I come in?” he asked.

Lucifer’s voice was smooth and completely unwavering, face refusing to betray emotion. Asmo was never surprised he became a lawyer, and he definitely wasn’t surprised by the fact that his name made people shudder. Asmo loved his brother, truly he did, but right now? Asmo didn’t know what to expect. So he nodded slowly and opened his door a little wider. Lucifer stepped inside and nodded at Asmo who shut the door quickly. 

One time when he was a teenager, Lucifer had caught him sneaking out. Asmo couldn’t place the feeling he felt back then, but whatever it was it was stirring up inside him once more. Secrets couldn’t be kept from Lucifer for long, Asmo had known that. Yet he had tried. He couldn’t meet Lucifer’s eyes.

“I heard you were upset,” Lucifer started, arms crossed, “Not that I needed to hear, it’s not hard to tell when you’re off.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just sorting some things out that happened last night-”

“So another person is involved.”

His voice went low. Asmo knew that tone. He’d heard it before. He’d heard it hundreds  of times before.

Asmo went quiet again. He didn’t want to talk about it. He really didn’t want to talk about it. He knew how Lucifer had gotten when he learned the truth about Asmo’s last relationship. Yes, Lucifer had always been protective and yes he got angry when one of Asmo’s partners made him upset. But his last relationship… He’d never seen Lucifer so angry. It terrified him. Lucifer had raised his voice, he’d looked so inhumane in that moment. He remembered having to talk Lucifer out of going to his dorm, he didn’t want to file anything against him. He didn’t want to see his brother get in trouble. Asmo hadn’t seen Lucifer for a while after that. When he had seen him again, he was scared to bring it up again.

Asmo didn’t want Lucifer thinking of Solomon in a  negative light, especially when it wasn’t Solomon’s fault. Solomon hadn’t forced him into having feelings for him, he just simply existed, and that’s what drew Asmo in. Everything about Solomon drew him closer. The way he looked, his intellect, hell even that nerdy side of him… Asmo loved it all. He just needed to decide if he wanted to keep that to himself or not...

Sitting down on the bed, Asmo kept his eyes trained on the floor. “Well, yes and no,” he said. Gripping the blanket tightly around him as a form of safety. How to tread around this subject with Lucifer… He glanced up at his brother ever so slightly, “I don’t think…. They don’t know that they’re involved in this situation.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Asmo thought he would have preferred he said something in that moment. He wanted a hunt or a clue to how his brother might react, instead he got nothing. Somehow that was worse. Lucifer now already knew more than Mammon, what could he say from here? How would he even begin to explain all of the letters? Where would he even begin? How to say it all in a way Lucifer would understand…

Hi Lucifer! You see I just got all these little love letters at school I didn’t tell you about because I totally thought that you might think this person was a stalker! Even though thinking too much about it, that makes sense! But nope. I wanted to live in my own little fairytale where everything was happy and going to turn out exactly how I wanted it to! Oh also? I projected all of these feelings onto my best friend who I’ve had a crush on for years! I thought he might actually like me back like that! Isn’t that funny Luci? Well, a girl kissed him at a party that you didn’t know about that Mammon and I went to and I had a mental breakdown in the bathroom. Now I’ve realized that he may not like me at all but I still have lots of feelings for him, and the letters haven’t come in in a while so I very well may  have a stalker! Solomon says he likes someone else, and not that girl, and I want it to be me, but it’s probably not. My life is going to shit and I don’t know what to do. Isn’t that funny Luci? Isn’t it?

Yes. that would go over perfectly with Lucifer. Lucifer who could do no wrong. Lucifer who was the head of their family. Nothing bad ever happened to him. Nothing. 

Asmo sniffled and sat down on his bed. No. No he wasn’t going to cry now. Not right now. Not in front of Lucifer. He couldn’t do that, it would just make him pry more.

“Asmodeus-” Lucifer started, then he stopped. He didn’t make a move towards Asmo, but he also didn’t back away. Maybe he would just leave. Take a page from the others for once and leave Asmo to process by himself. After all, it wasn’t any of Lucifer’s business right? Just like his relationship with Diavolo was none of his business. 

“I don’t need a lecture Lucifer,” he snapped. He wasn’t sure where that came from. Perhaps he was due to the overwhelming reality that was constantly swimming around him in this moment. “Listen, I know I screwed up. I know I let my heart get ahead of me. I know, I don’t need to hear it. I-”

Asmo felt a pair of arms wrap around him. It was a bit awkward, but then again affection and comfort hadn’t always been Lucifer’s strong suits. He tried, he really did. But even if he wasn’t always great at it, there was something undeniably soothing. It reminded him of when he was a child once more, and Lucifer was trying his best to fill the hole their parents left in their family. They’d taken Lilith and left the rest of them behind. Asmo still wasn’t really all that sure about what had happened, and Lucifer refused to talk about it. Asmo had vague memories of being held a little closer, a little tighter, for a few months after they left. All of his memories were vague and fuzzy but this… This was a feeling he remembered. 

“Why would you think any of that?” Lucifer asked, pulling away and making Asmo look him in the eye. Asmo wasn’t aware til that moment that anyone would look so stern yet gentle at the same time. Part of Asmo still wanted to look away, but at the same time he felt compelled to spill everything. 

Finally, he sighed and backed up. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until his body finally allowed himself to relax. How long had he been that tense? He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, you were never the most approving of past relationships.You didn’t ever seem to like them,” he said.

Lucifer had never been rude to them in the slightest, but he also hadn’t been entirely warm with them either. Asmo could always feel him judging them, he knew he didn’t like them. Maybe that’s part of the reason why Asmo had kept quiet about some of his past relationships. Maybe Lucifer had known what they were like all along. Maybe he saw something in their eyes or the way they spoke. Or maybe it was how they all avoided Lucifer’s gaze. Thinking back on it, many of them always had something to say about Lucifer. 

Your oldest brother is kind of scary.

Yo Lucifer? What’s his problem? He kept staring at me.

I thought he was your dad with how he was acting!

Lucifer shook his head and let out a sigh. He was quiet, thinking over his words before speaking. “Well, I certainly feel justified in my disdain for them, they all ended for reasons that I don’t feel I need to bring up,” he said. He certainly wasn’t wrong, but it still made Asmo frown.

“Oh? So is that why you’re so judgemental?”

“No. Asmodeus I-” he stopped again and closed his eyes, “Asmodeus. You’re special. You truly are. I just want to see you treated like you deserve. Someone who sees how special you are.” 

Asmo was waiting for the catch, waiting for there to be more. But there wasn’t. Lucifer just stared at him. Waiting. Asmo brought his knees to his chest. This was uncomfortable. Incredibly uncomfortable. He wished he was still putting up a front. One he could hide behind, but he couldn’t do that to Lucifer. No, Lucifer would know. He was too smart for any of this. 

“Are you going to stop hiding things from me now?”

He knew.

Asmo nodded deftly and swallowed. He reached towards his desk and rummaged through it for a minute. He didn’t need to. He was stalling, and he knew it. He’d just been hiding this all from Lucifer for so long. Of course he knew something wasn’t right, knew something was up. Lucifer knew everything that went on in their house. How Asmo would never know.  Despite everything running through his mind in that moment, the idea of Lucifer reading the letters filled him with absolute dread. His fingers caressed the envelopes. It was like a reflex at this point. Even if he couldn’t touch them, he could still caress their letters. He hadn’t even realized his hands were shaking when he finally handed them over to Lucifer. 

Lucifer examined the envelopes for a moment before opening the first one. “Are these the only things you received.”

“I got a few gifts from time to time. Just small things like chocolate or little toys.”

He nodded slowly, eyes scanning over the words carefully. When he finished, he folded it up meticulously and tucked it back into its resting place within the envelope. Then he would move to the next letter and start the process over again. It was an odd thing to watch. To Asmo, it seemed like Lucifer was treating this like a case more than Asmo bearing his secrets to him. These letters were personal, yet his expression never changed. Hours seemed to tick by and yet halt all together by the time Lucifer was organizing all of the envelopes into a neat little pile and handed them back to Asmo. 

“You said this other person doesn’t know they’re involved?”

“Well, yes-”

“Why?”

Asmo furrowed his brow, “Why?”

“Why don’t they know?”

Asmo swallowed a groan, “Maybe I don’t want them to know.”

“Go on.”

“I’m not one of your clients Lucifer. You don’t need to get every bit of information out of me,” Asmo said, shooting his brother a look, but he continued anyways, “Listen, maybe I just don’t want to ruin the way something is. Maybe I like the way things are. Maybe-”

Maybe I don’t deserve him.

Asmo stopped himself before the words left his mouth. 

Lucifer was silent for a moment, then a soft chuckle left his lips and he shook his head. “Oh, how I wish you still had that same mindset with me. You didn’t sneak around nearly as much as a child and you certainly didn’t keep nearly as many secrets from me.”

Asmo couldn’t help but pout. Lucifer was joking around! How could he be doing this. Lucifer should be grilling him right now! Lucifer should want to give him a lecture! Now Asmo was happy that he wasn’t, but still! He’d been so anxious about what Lucifer would do, only for him to tease him! Had all of his worry really been over nothing? Maybe he wasn’t too different from the rest of his brother’s after all. “All you can do is make a joke? Seriously?”

“Apologies. I suppose Diavolo may, unfortunately, be rubbing off on me.”

Asmo didn’t miss the soft smile that crossed his face. How lucky was Lucifer? He had someone who was vocal about how much he adored him, someone who would do anything and find any loophole just to see him. Someone who would do anything for him. Someone who loved him unconditionally. 

“It must be nice having someone like him, someone who adores you and loved you as much as him. I think he’d run around the world if you asked him to.”

“He is a rather persistent man, I don’t think he would have stopped asking until I agreed to go on a date with him.”

“How many times did he have to ask?”

“Three times.”

Lucifer softened for a moment as Asmo laughed. It wasn’t a surprise. Lucifer hadn’t dated much from what Asmo knew. He’d been busy with school and taking care of the rest of them. He hadn’t had time for romance. By the time he’d gotten into college and his post grad, Lucifer had gotten into a routine. A routine that Diavolo had been determined to break.  Lucifer and Diavolo were good together, they’d been close before they started being together. Honestly Asmo wasn’t sure when they started dating. All he knew was that Diavolo seemed to love his brother more than anything.

“I think he’s good for you,” Asmo said, “He’s so dedicated, and he loves you a lot…”

“He’s certainly something else,” Lucifer agreed, “I want the same thing for you, for all of you. I want you to be happy, even if you all don’t always believe it. I mean it when I say you’re special Asmodeus.”

Asmo looked down at the letters once more. Secret seemed to think he was special too. Maybe… Just maybe they had meant every single thing they said in their letters. The very idea made Asmo blush ever so slightly. Then he mind flickered to his ever dedicated best friend. Oh what he wouldn’t give to be lucky enough to be with him, just like how Lucifer was lucky to have someone like Diavolo.

Then Lucifer pressed something into Asmo’s hands, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked down, and staring back at him was another pink envelope, crisp and perfect with his name written on the cover. “You know, the funny thing about Diavolo is how persistent he is.  He took a chance with me, three chances actually, he’s incredibly dedicated,” he said, “Now, this doesn't mean I’m going to be easy on them, but I do want to see you happy. Only if this is something you’d want to do.”

Asmo was only half listening as he tore open the letter. His fingers stumbling and tripping over themselves to open it. Then he stopped and turned to Lucifer. “How did you get this?” he asked slowly.

“It was given to me, for you while I was at work. Barbatos had to page me down.”

“Then you know-”

“I promised I won’t tell.”

“Really?” 

“Diavolo made me promise not to tell. He thought the entire thing was rather romantic and adorable,” Lucifer smirked, once Asmo realized this meant that he wasn’t going to get the information he wanted, “Though, you should read it now, I do believe it’s time sensitive.”

Asmo nodded quickly and went back to opening the letter. He looked down expecting the usual gorgeous words scrolled across the page, but that wasn’t the case. It was hurried, as if Secret had been in a rush. The writing was shaky and a little uncertain, and the paper a little crumpled.

Meet me at Cradsbury Park at 7

I promise I’ll explain

I need want to see you

Please.

Your Secret

It wasn’t the normal format. But that didn’t matter. The blanket flew off of him and soon Asmo was scattering to get ready. He needed to fix his makeup and put something nice on. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. His heart was pounding in his chest and his mind went to autopilot. Lucifer stood from his bed and straightened out his shirt a bit before walking towards the door. 

“You really should open your text messages Asmodeus. It’s rather rude not to. I thought you knew better,” before he left, Lucifer turned towards Asmo one last time, “Call me if you need me.”

Asmo was only half listening to his brother as he scurried around his room.

*****

Asmo stood in front of his door nervously. He could turn back. He could forget all of this. But he needed to know, or else he’d always wonder. He thought he looked nice enough, winter boots, a cute sweater under his jacket, one of his nicer pairs of leggings... At least he hoped  he looked nice enough. He tightened his coat around himself. Phone buzzing one last time in his pocket, Asmo opened the door and started his walk down to the old park.

[shirlleycoyle]

Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum

Long before the witches of Gen-Z claimed TikTok as their digital coven, and even before the Geocities-scattered digital landscapes of Web 1.0, a thousands-strong community once formed via the world’s phone lines to trade spells, advise on sigils, and correspond on spiritual guidance. It was called the Pagan And Occult Distribution Network, or PODSnet: a slice of occult internet history that helped pioneer mass online collaboration.

Today, it’s easy to take for granted that online communities are only a few taps away, but in the 1980s and early 1990s, finding like-minded individuals in niche subject areas was practically revolutionary. And in the case of PODSnet, it provided an unusually free space to discuss the esoteric arts—for many of its members, for the first time ever.

"In the 1990s and 1990s, accessing the social media of the day was very different than it is today,” Farrell McGovern, a PODSnet cofounder who came to Paganism through books about quantum physics such as The Dancing Wu Li Masters, told Motherboard. “It was louder, slower, and connectivity was perilous.”

In the early 1980s, computing enthusiasts began using Bulletin Board Systems (BBS) to communicate with each other. These systems were a precursor to the World Wide Web, and although relatively primitive, paved the way for the always-on communication of today.

Because BBS ran on phone lines, discussions were asynchronous and often confined to local groups due to the dramatic costs of dialing farther afield than your own state. What’s more, the boards were isolated from one another: an analogy might be if every single subreddit needed its own website, and you could only speak to users in your immediate area.

But in 1984, artist and technician Tom Jennings created FidoNet, a network that could connect all of these BBS systems. With the advent of cheaper modems, FidoNet’s popularity exploded into a huge 20,000-node network that connected users all around the world. Eventually, something called Echomail was introduced by a system operator, or sysop, called Jeff Rush, allowing for the support of public forums.

Instead of simply picking up your smartphone, BBS users would have to connect their computer to a modem, which was linked to a phone line—translating digital 1s and 0s into audio information and back again to the modem and terminal operating the BBS.

Popular BBSes would frequently return a busy signal: unlike today, actually logging off was necessary because only one connection was allowed at a time. A successful login returned a screen of text and a list of messages grouped into categories, with the software tracking the ones you had read. Here, users would respond to text, download what they could, and hang up.

Here, a BBS called "Magicknet" flourished, but one problem in particular spurred its users to found their own splinter network: Christian fundamentalists had infiltrated the group to spy on members.

This infiltration led to a number of incidents, including McGovern being written up in the magazine of infamous cult figure Lyndon Larouche as a “well-known witch from Toronto”. Given the various tabloid-led "Satanic panics" at the time, founding an independent BBS was not only right for promoting lively metaphysical discourse, it was a matter of safety too.

“People were losing their jobs, child custody, etc,” McGovern told Motherboard. “People had to move to escape persecution in some areas: very much so in the Bible Belt, but in other places, too. Unless you were in a major metropolitan area, and even then, you ran some degree of risk if you were outed.”

McGovern was first involved in his local BBS scene around Ottawa in the mid-1980s. Working at a local computer store that sold Apple and IBM PC clones, McGovern set up the Data/Sfnet BBS to advertise the business. In doing so, he became a SysOp—a system operator who ran, maintained, and in many cases built a network—granting him honorary entry to the computing elite at the time.

Being based in Canada, McGovern was the first to help Magicknet go international before it split into PODSnet, which would swell to 10,000 members who accessed the BBS by dialling into the 93 "zone number"—a reference to Thelema, the spiritual movement developed by Aleister Crowley.

The logo of the PODSnet bulletin board system.

For author and occult store supplier Dorothy Morrison, who was raised Catholic but eventually joined a coven of practicing witches in California before forming one of her own, discovering PODSnet was an “incredible way to find so many people of like mind at one place”.

“It was a place where I could be myself, regardless of the fact I really was living in a very conservative, buttoned-down state,” Morrison told Motherboard. “It wasn’t just a safe haven for me, it was an escape from having to appear to be someone I wasn’t for safety reasons."

“When someone wants to burn you at the stake—at that time Missouri was not a place that would’ve taken kindly to Witches—you certainly don’t tell them where you keep the gas can,” she said.

The atmosphere on PODSnet was typically collaborative and friendly, said Morrison, and the most arresting dramas on the board she was aware of usually related to the enormous phone bills that came from connecting to the network. (Although once or twice these charges “damned near landed some folks in divorce court.")

But, like the internet today, there were hints of gossip, rumours, and fake news. One popular cause for the community was the supposed persecution of 9 million witches by Christians (The whole idea was based on bad scholarship, according to McGovern). At one point, there was a six-year-long debate on whether or not Kate Bush is Wiccan—perhaps one of the most heated internet disputes of its time.

Whatever the topic, much of these PODSnet discussions would have been lost to time were it not for a community effort to archive the cherished message board. Still accessible in its archived ASCII form today, PODSnetters worked together to produce what was perhaps the first mass collaborative online project of its type: a massive, crowdsourced digital grimoire  called the Internet Book of Shadows.

The name of the enormous seven-volume text references the catch-all "Book of Shadows," a name commonly used for tomes of spells and rituals, and the text covers the A-Zs of alternative spirituality from "Asatru to Zen Buddhism." Chapter one alone is 70,000 words long, and there’s a varied store of stuff available within, including an essay about bashing fluffy bunnies (the tendency among some well-seasoned practitioners to troll newbies, as opposed to bashing actual rabbits), a guide to cleansing rituals called "smudging," and an introduction to the suppressed traditions of Gnosticism.

Plenty of contributors to the Book of Shadows remain involved in esoteric spiritual communities today, and some, like Morrison, became authors in their own right.

One of Dorothy Morrison’s favorite contributions to the Internet Book of Shadows.

Morrison says the book of rituals, spells, stories, legends, and “other magic-related miscellany” took seven 5-inch loose-leaf binders to contain it when she once decided to print out the information the community had amassed. The community then began compiling the grimoire into downloadable digital files.

Once it was finished, PODSnet users agreed to offer the Book of Shadows as a gift, free of charge, to the community. While they were copyrighted, they were free to use and copy under the proviso that there was no charge for their acquisition—leading to later frustrations about unauthorized reproductions of the manuscript for profit.

“It’s probably the largest collection of pagan thought that was freely available to copy for non-commercial use,” McGovern added.

According to Dan Harms, an author and librarian at SUNY Cortland, magick practice has thrived on community-produced documents throughout history. Even during the print era, there was a “tremendous sort of traffic in books, manuscripts being passed back and forth between people,” chopping and changing aspects of the manuscripts they liked before copying them out.

“What was really different here, is that when the material was copied or created, it’s put up online for everybody to see,” Harms said. “It becomes a collective memory. It’s not something that’s stuck on somebody’s shelf, it’s something everybody can get into.”

Harms told Motherboard that communities like PODSnet were of enormous importance for establishing networks of occult practitioners and helped lay the groundwork for driving a boom in occult publishing.

“I was growing up in rural Kentucky with an interest in these kinds of arcane topics,” said Harms, who wasn't involved in the occult internet at the time of PODSnet but was an active Usenet user. “It was just so hard to find any sort of information – you would have to rely on the local library.  But the local library in rural Kentucky is probably not looking to fill up its shelves with books about magic and paganism and things like that.”

Today, what was once a recondite pocket of the primordial internet has hit the mainstream, with even the Financial Times covering the "WitchTok" phenomenon. Speaking with PODSnetters, there’s a sense that in today's online spaces, community and information exchange can often take a backseat to clout and hostility. “[But] how much of that is getting older and yelling ‘get off my grass’,” asks McGovern, “or true insight – only time will say.”

Whatever the case, PODSnet—which closed around the turn of the millennium before hopping to Yahoo Groups, LiveJournal, and now with its remnants on Facebook—proved that digital technologies can bring disparate people together in a meaningful way, where they are happy to create and produce for the good of their communities.

“I remember those I met along that journey, what they taught me—not only about the Craft, but about myself—and the connections I made," said Morrison.“I remember how fortunate I was that PODSnet was there for me. To a large degree, that experience formed the person I am today, and I'll be forever grateful.”

Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[kathyprior4200]

Let Us Rise by Marquis Phenex

Let me tell you a tale

That happened long ago

You may already know the legend

But still I shall speak it so

 Back before the Earth was made

Before life-giving air

Far within the cosmos

The Lord God was there

 Some say he’s an omnipotent being

Appearing as a wise man

One with his son Jesus Christ

The whole universe is His plan

 Others say that’s not so

That He doesn’t exist at all

While some say He’s actually Satan

Here to answer our call

 Or perhaps God is the universe itself

Where atoms and molecules collide

The truth is, none of us know

I’ll let you decide

 No matter the case, at the Creator’s own pace

Heaven emerged so bright

Cyan skies, fluffy clouds

And a realm of pure delight

 Endless room to fly around

There stood palaces of gold

Dancing angels were abound

Songs were sung and stories were told

No one ever grew sick or old

 The Angelorium was a marvelous place

Where we had our council meetings

Were we discussed comings and goings

And where we did our greetings

 We enjoyed feasts and epicurean dishes

Golden fruits and divine fishes

Divine wine that flowed so fine

Only the greatest place to dine

 Yes, our Father created all of us

Lucifer was the first

The bright and perfect Morning Star

Seeking knowledge to quench his thirst

 Shortly after, his siblings were created

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Jophiel, Zadkiel

And many others more

The Archangels and the various hierarchies

Kept cosmic order, law, and records to store

 Then one day, Father decreed

His new adventurous plan

He decided to conjure a new experiment

And he called his creation “Man.”

 At first glance, there was nothing special

About this new species’ birth

A land of earth and sea appeared

And He called it “Earth.”

 You humans were truthfully

Little more than ants to us

But we peered further in

And you were quite marvelous

 Thousands of years of evolution

You grew and you learned

But you also stole natural resources

None of which you earned

 Humanity was quite weak

Mortal and flawed in mind

But you also had a great ability

To create more of your own kind

 As we’re immortal, we have no need

To create more of us

No fears for thousands of years

That’s the way it has been, thus

 Now many of us were neutrally pleased

As far as humanity would go

But while we felt this way

For Lucifer it was not so

 Lucifer was God’s favorite

He took his status in stride

A new change after many centuries

Conjured a spark in his pride

 Everyone has flaws

God does as well

Everything is not as it seems

It is best not to dwell

 A million new thoughts

Had crossed the morning Star’s head

Why are these humans so special?

When they’ll all just be dead?

We angels were here first

Our superiority is first in line

If humans will not improve themselves

Then with this, I am not fine.”

 But God favoring humans was not the only reason

That Lucifer felt a sudden chill

Like cold after a warm season

All seemed eerily still

Besides being mistrustful of humans

Flying out of range

Lucifer noticed other things not seen before

Things that were quite strange

 All his brethren performed their duties

Like clockwork through and through

It was the same process day after day

That’s all they had to do

No questions were asked at all

No self-expression was allowed

The true kind that frees your mind

Feelings that make one truly proud

Stern rules to stifle creativity

Damnation threats for the smallest mistake

And after many years of submission

It was too much for him to take

  Lucifer strode to his Father and said loud and clear

“What is the meaning of this? What is it that you fear?

Why do you create random beings,

Pets in a lab to analyze?

And why do you impose standards on us

Before our very eyes?”

And He replied, “Listen Son,

“There is reason in everything I do,

To keep angels and humans in good harmony. You don’t have a clue.

To prevent chaos, traditions are set in their ways,

Be an obedient son and do your duty all your days.”

 Lucifer was about to do just that

But he knew in his heart

That it wouldn’t be right

To let pure happiness be torn apart

 Now here’s a major event

You may have heard before

Did it happen? No one is sure

The first Heaven-Hell War

 Now some say Seraphim Lucifer

Gathered his brethren and chose to depart

From paradise for they

Sought freedom and joys of the heart

But the common version does tell

Of how a prideful Lucifer did rebel

Gathered 1/3 of the angels to his side

Led by his jealousy and pride

(‘Tis not the story version to which we abide)

Tired of his Father’s current rule

He sought his throne and his dream to reign

Like Zeus overthrew his father Chronus

A vicious cycle again and again

But alas, his efforts were in vain

 After three days, Michael implored

His bother to stop, to which he ignored

“End this madness,” said he,

“Live our peaceful lives. Obedience is key.”

As Lucifer replied, “I find you are blind,

To what is really going on,

No matter what is asked of you

You grovel and submit and worship in song

Without regard to how you truly feel

I don’t want to fight you either

But if we could enlighten all worlds together

Be more than El’s believer.”

With tears in his eyes, Michael shook his head

“I’m sorry, brother, but instead,

The rules must be followed

Heaven has no need for your greed

It’s a hard truth to swallow

To keep our land in perfection

To support our Lord every day

By His decree, I must send you away.”

 With a swoop and slash of Michael’s sword of fire

Lucifer endured burns most dire

Sharp relentless pains never-ending

And before long, he felt himself descending

Further and further down

As trumpets let out their sound

Lucifer and his comrades

Fallen, defeated, banished

Flames licked at their wings

Until all their glorious feathers vanished

In curls of sparks and ash

They screamed in agony and despair

They plummeted fast

Like meteors crashing toward the Earth

In flashes of light they fell and fell

Until landing in the fires and brimstones of Hell

 They got up with shaking legs

Battered and bruised everywhere

But as they were immortal

They had survived their fall then and there

Lucifer knew that something was amiss

As he stood in the dark Abyss

Was this His plan all along?

To let them fall as a warning

Of what happens to those in the wrong?

With nowhere left to roam

The darkness was now their home

Fiery lakes, smoke and monsters appeared

Filled with suffering and things they suddenly feared

In this new environment

Adaptation was a requirement

Survival of the fittest and strong

The weak would not last long

So the fallen angels morphed in their sorrow and wrath

Gaining animal-like features

Sharp fangs, claws, dark powers

Soon becoming demon creatures

No knowing what else to do

They flew and slew and cities they blew

Losing control of their former selves

The same would happen if it were you

 With the last of his grace

Lucifer scanned the place

And knew what to do

With Beelzebub at his side

Regaining his pride

He spoke to his subjects

“Rise or be fallen forevermore!

When opportunity dies, create another door.

Wounded and weary, our paradise lost

But the price of free will is always worth the cost.

Don’t believe me? Follow me now.

Our former glories will be restored somehow.

After we’re all settled, I have a plan

To help decide the future of Man.”

 Soon enough the capital Pandemonium

Was erected in gold and precious gems galore

Towering pillars, sigils on every door

The palace larger than the tallest demons

Allowing everyone to fit

The citizens had their human-like flaws

But never knew how to quit

 The Infernal Council was founded

Structure more grounded

Demon in various ranks

Of kings, dukes, princes, judges

Everything in between

Adapting to times unseen

  Now I believe

You know the Christian story of Adam and Eve?

Mankind’s first fall and sin

A loss or a hidden win?

Adam’s first wife Lilith

Wanted to be equal to him

But Adam was told she had to submit

Things were looking grim

Lilith soon left Eden, refusing to come back

Representing sexual freedom

But no freedom there was but a lack

  God then made for Adam from his rib

A more submissive partner Eve

Both loved each other very much

But were also new and naïve

Around the natural Eden

They could roam mindlessly unbidden

But the Tree of the Knowledge

Of Good and Evil was forbidden

A forbidden tree with forbidden fruit

Right in plain sight

If God forbade them to eat from it

Guarding it would have been a method more bright

 Then legends say

Satan appeared as a snake

Tempting Eve to eat the apple

Leaving destruction in their wake

Eve then gave the apple to Adam

In some versions, fully knowing the cost

He purposefully ate it too, not wanting Eve lost

With flaming swords in hand

Angels bid the first humans away

From paradise’s golden gates

To the rest of the world that day

Michael then told Adam

Of biblical events to come

While God punished

Eve with future pains of labor

And both with death until it was said and done

 Did Lucifer and Satan (or alternatively Lilith) desire

For mankind to fail and decay by fire?

Or perhaps to your surprise

The devil alternatively whispered to Eve:

“Stop living lies.

Eat the fruit and you’ll be free

To live through joy and despair like me

Or wander around in brainwashed bliss

To remain stagnant with knowledge to miss

You are destined to fall and die

God has made it so

He’s testing you and knows you’ll fail

Resist temptation to no avail

Man and woman are made to be equal

Though God says man must rule

If you’re content to be sheep

No free will to keep

Consider yourself a fool

You will know as much as God does

But in a different way

For in time you’ll learn that you’re your own God

You’ll make the most of every day.”

 Now none of us angels and demons

Are against God and the faithful per se

There is wisdom in every religion

Goodness in Christ, originally that way

Religions ancient and new

Originally promoted humanitarian kindness too

But as time went by with more power to take

Ideals and values became shallow and fake

Killing, raping and converting thousands more

Endless bloody crusades, witch hunts, destruction of land

Wars over faith, no logic to understand

An unhealable hole in humanity, too grand

Suffering, racism, bigotry

All in the name of their God, you see

Their God that humanity corrupted

After concern for fellow men was brashly interrupted

The real God and Jesus would never wish that it was so

But dominant history wins and there you go

  We demons are against bigotry, the ignorant

And all those who try to shut down

The basic human rights of free-will and responsibility

Authoritarianism must drown

It is not Satan who promotes sinful indulgence

And harsh authoritarianism

It is only your social systems

That keep you imprisoned

  And as if our historic fall wasn’t enough

Many of us endured

Our entrapment by King Solomon

Thus more events concurred

He put 72 of us in a vessel

Abused us with blasting rods

Made us build temples and do his will

Like he was one of the gods!

He had wives and gold and luxury

A part of history, an occult trend

But before long, time went on

And he too, met his end

We demons were eventually freed

To aid magicians and roam

From Earth to Hell and back again

But neither realm our true home

We hope to return to heavenly paradise

Where angels, demons and humans

Can someday be themselves as one, so true

(Though it’s hard at times to collaborate with angels, too)

  Much of humanity has been brainwashed

But the angels much more so

For while some humans can question what they see

Angels don’t know how to say no

How can they? Their purpose is to serve

God and some humans, more than they deserve

Like us demons, angels are powerful

Loving liberal science, magic and song

But be rude and make the wrong move

They’ll let you know why you’re wrong

  Angels, demons, other gods and spirits

Fascinated by humanity

We’re just here to watch the result

Whether a blessing or a calamity

Despite your mundane lifestyles

We want what is best for you

To help humanity grow and see progress that’s true

Like the angels we used to be

And still are inside

We are divine on our own

And take conflicts in stride

  God and Christianity are not to blame

It is merely society’s institutions

That puts your race to shame

Thousands of years of corruption and conversion

It’ll take a thousand more for healing

But alas, alternate views and change for the majority

Of humanity is not appealing

To truly get into paradise

Save yourselves in the here and now

Indulge responsibly, do not bow

Respect living things as sisters and brothers

Even though it may be hard

Cherish and forgive the ones you love

But always stay on guard

However you see God or Mother Nature or the Universe

Make Him proud by

Doing the right thing

And do more than try

You are His treasured experiment

Will you succeed in the temporary trial of life?

  Supernatural entities can harm or help you out

But you must first help and protect yourselves, no doubt

Pray as you may, conjure and chant

We are the guides to your self-will and rant

Yes, a few of us see humans

As insignificant as bugs

But many of us can be your friends

Even giving spiritual hugs

  We demons serve under Lucifer, Satan, Lilith, etc.

We have a culture of our own

Some of us are demonized pagan gods

Stolen from what was first known

Most of us are fallen angels

A perilous transformation to embark

But through it all, we survived the fall

And learned to embrace the dark

There’s dark and light in everything

Balance is a must

With your world and ours being complex

How do you know who to trust?

  We endured a horrific fall

We lost all we had

But the ignorance of angels and humans

That’s what drives us mad

You see, black and white is not in the right

Some angels are friendly and warm

But others will push you away

If you don’t follow the norm

There are good and bad demons too

Nothing like you’d expect

Us demons are wise and open to you

Provided you show respect

We’re not afraid to keep you on your toes

If it means you’ll learn good lessons

As everything goes

   Keep demonizing us demons

And the poor and flawed without care

We’ll just watch as you discriminate to death

And destroy yourselves in despair

Or for those open with a change of heart

Who know that none of us are truly apart

Rise from the ashes of atrocity

And fly within the flames of fellowship

  If you dare to fully embrace yourself

All aspects flawed and fine

Through black flames,

With honor and trust, call our names…

 We are the Ars Goetia, Demonic Divine.