im 19!! they/them
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Prettyfaux - Bu - Tumblr Blog
Spoopy Season Safety
10 signs a cow is happy
Characters: Belphie x gn!MC
Main Masterlist
CW: developing and established relationship. A tiny bit suggestive at one point and there's a mention of rumination (regurgitation) in another one. Otherwise, nothing
A/N: a little different from what I'm used to, but I figured trying something new could help with the writer's block. Hope you enjoy it!
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Inspired by this video and this one <3
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He reacts to his name.
Except it isn’t just his name; at least when the one looking for him is MC.
Most of the time it’s Belphie, although Belphegor comes out occasionally, like those mornings when they’re both running late for class and he won’t wake up. There are also the late nights when MC is too tired to speak and only hums the melody of his name, but the demon still opens an arm and offers the spot beside him.
He frowns when Lucifer yells and continues sleeping when Beel carries him without a care in the world, but, conscious or not, he always smiles when MC is the one calling for him.
He spends time socialising and grooming others.
It’s more noticeable once he’s freed from the attic and he feels the need to spend as much time with them as his brothers had had while he was trapped, although his hate towards humans dissipating might’ve also had something to do with it.
One moment MC finds themselves relaxing in their room and the next, after answering an ominous text message, they are lying down next to him in the planetarium, first admiring the stars and then letting him play with their hair as he unknots it with his fingers.
His touch only grows more intimate as their friendship deepens and eventually evolves into something much less platonic, but the love and care within remain the same.
He likes to play with toys, like balls.
Which is something no one expects; a welcomed surprise.
They’re all sitting in a couple of booths inside a cheap diner in the middle of nowhere, one more time victims of their own misadventures. The smell of meaty grease surrounds them and sticks to their clothes, leaving both Asmo and Beel in tears for completely different reasons, and the mean-looking waitress has enough kindness in her heart to give them an old kid’s toy to entertain themselves.
It goes first to MC, the favourite in the family, and then to Belphie, who never gets to give it to anyone else. He throws it, catches it and bounces it against any surface available until Lucifer gives him a warning look and threatens to confiscate it, to which he pouts.
A couple of minutes later, he throws it in MC’s direction, so they throw it back to him with a smile.
Five minutes later, the ball is neatly kept in Lucifer’s pocket.
He has zoomies.
Another surprise, although not as sweet as the last one.
There’s a primal fear in the depths of their mind, the one that yearns for survival, that begs MC to run and hide the very few times Belphie looks at them with those dilated eyes. They suppose it makes sense, even if they’re not afraid of him anymore.
He doesn’t look dangerous or aggressive, just unsettlingly alert and active for a demon who’s supposed to be always tired; shockingly fast and agile each time the sudden bursts of energy make him run through the house jumping in unfiltered glee, going past MC close enough to almost tackle them to the ground.
Satan suspects it’s a consequence of his long periods of rest and, while MC finds it fascinating, they can’t wait for Belphie to go back to normal.
He’s enthusiastic about treats.
A feature he shares with his brother, no doubt, is their twin telepathy proving its existence yet again; and even though they’re strikingly different, they still share some mannerisms as well, like the way they smile or look up at MC whenever they enter their room.
And that brightness in their face only increases if there are goodies involved.
MC sometimes jokes about Beel being more like a goat, trying to eat anything and everything whether or not is edible. Fortunately, Belphie’s stomach is not that demanding, so a simple sushi platter is enough to leave him happy.
However, MC can’t help but wonder if being the one who brings the treats is part of the reason for his enthusiasm because if so, every market near them will have a sushi shortage very soon.
He chews cud.
Which serves to remind MC of his non-human, half-ruminant nature.
With the middle of March approaching, the twins’ birthday is celebrated as much as possible. The amount of food at the table is tremendous and it even reaches Diavolo’s height; a perfect example of the word variety. There are dishes, appetizers, snacks and desserts for everyone’s taste, fruits and meats and vegetables and whatnot. Fortunately, Beel eats half of it in the blink of an eye before it can get overwhelming.
But for some reason, there’s also a medium-sized bowl full of what looks like grass. It’s hidden amongst other things, probably because of the oddity of its presence, but Belphie finds it quickly enough.
The sight that follows is morbidly captivating and equally disgusting, especially when the chewed food comes back to his mouth for more chewing.
At the end of the day, the important thing is that he’s happy.
…right?
He initiates hugs.
Usually when he wants cuddles and, bratty as he is, his requests often sound more like demands.
He opens his arms, brings MC to his chest and breathes in. There’s a hand wrapped around their waist and another cradling their head, softly scratching their scalp, and their body is already relaxing against his before they can even think about what they’re doing.
Sometimes, when he looks too grumpy to be taken seriously, they like to tease him, laughing at the shocked and offended expression he wears when they playfully ignore his attempted embrace.
They suppose it’s sweet, the idea of always being close as a given fact.
He exposes his tummy for belly rubs.
While lying in that position might be seen as vulnerable for some, it doesn’t seem to be a problem for Belphie; although being a powerful demon probably gave him a good sense of security.
MC would never complain about it, anyway. Seeing him so at peace around them and not only letting, but asking to be pet? A perfect evening if they’ve ever seen one. They let themselves enjoy the feeling of his stomach trembling under the tip of their nails and the small puffs of air that come out when their fingers threaten to travel lower.
It’s a type of intimacy that he wouldn’t mind bragging about in front of his brothers, but he still stays quiet to keep it private and uninterrupted.
He licks his lips when you hit the right scratch spot.
The boredom is hefty enough to kill the whole classroom. Some are painting their skin, others are painting their seatmate’s skin and MC is wondering how soft Belphie’s hair is. He is sitting in front of them during the last period of the day and the temptation is too strong to avoid.
For once, he isn’t carelessly dropped on the table, but rather leaning back and letting his head rest on the back of the chair; he is conscious enough to pay attention to their professor in his sleep but not to his surroundings, so MC takes their shot.
At first they think it’s a coincidence and pay no mind to the subtle movement of his tongue wetting his lips when they scratch his nape, but then it happens again and again and they find themselves unable to stop and forget their little discovery.
Thankfully, when the bell rings and Belphie wakes up to go home with them, MC has the perfect excuse.
He drools! Such things happen!
He purrs.
It takes MC some time to figure out what is the deep rumbling that follows them for months, mainly because it sounds like a creaking door and, while the House of Lamentation is old, the structure and the furniture are kept mostly intact.
Just like white noise, once they turn it down, it’s impossible not to miss it and the realisation is enough to turn the sadness of returning to the human realm into a full crying meltdown.
It was there the whole time: when they woke up Belphie and they were the first person he saw; or when they laid together and played and simply enjoyed each other’s presence and existence.
It’s there again when MC can’t deal with the loneliness anymore and calls him.
The rumbling, a purr, peeking under his low voice.
If that isn’t enough reason to keep loving him, then what is?
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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom
This is likely to be the most powerful storm in over 100 years
:”)
film professor!toji, who always wears dark colored slacks and a button-up shirt, alongside with a tie loosely hanging around his neck and a pair of glasses that keep sliding down his nose. the watch on his wrist is always the same one, a relatively chunky silver one that surely can only look normal on a man his size.
sometimes he rolls up his sleeves, sometimes he unbuttons a few buttons of his shirt; sometimes he ditches the tie entirely and goes for a less sophisticated look. the material wrapped around his biceps looks like it’s about to tear open whenever he folds his arms over his chest and his pants aren’t doing any better, his thick thighs are just bulging out whenever he decides to lean his ass against his desk. and he’s confident, he’s cocky. he looks tired as fuck and his hair is more often than not a complete mess, but needless to say, he always looks very, very good.
film professor!toji, who’s got a habit of fidgeting with his pens. he’s either simply toying with them in his hands as he introduces the next film you’ll be watching or he’s got one between his teeth as he watches you guys do your presentations. and he usually tucks the thing behind his ear when he’s done playing with it.
film professor!toji, who’s constantly throwing his legs on top of his desk when he’s listening to the class or when he’s showing you something from the projector. with his hands behind his head, he leans so far back in his chair that it has all of you placing bets on how long he’ll manage to hold that pose before he falls. he never does.
film professor!toji, who’s an absolute sucker for films from the 80’s. indiana jones, alien, blade runner, scarface, evil dead etc etc – you name it, he’s seen it. has multiple big posters of said films in his classroom too btw. he’s not actually picky though, he’ll watch just about anything because well, why not. he’s not really pretentious either, though he will tease you if you claim a ‘silly’ film as your favourite but he won’t put you down for it. he’ll push you a bit, asking questions to test how sure you are of your answer and then just proceeds to watch you defend yourself with a long ramble with a sly little grin on his lips. that’s what he wants to see after all – that his students love films, no matter what kind.
film professor!toji, who knows a lot of random facts about the most random films and is not afraid to very casually blurt them out during his classes. some of them are very informative and then some of them are rather questionable, leaning more towards a piece of gossip if anything else. but it’s not like anybody’s complaining.
film professor!toji, who asks what you guys have watched since your last class with him at the beginning of every single class. doesn’t spend an entire hour on this topic but it’s always a certified fifteen minute break from the actual studying because he thinks it’s important for his students to talk about films. to talk about what you saw – if you noticed any peculiarities or mistakes, whether you liked the thing or not. and he always listens; he sips his coffee with his pencil stuck behind his ear, and then proceeds to ask very specific questions. he seems to have seen, or at least to know, every single film ever made and it’s kind of ridiculous(ly hot).
film professor!toji, who's still somehow not entirely used to people calling him 'sir'. mr. fushiguro is what he usually prefers but the 'sir' still pops up every so often and it always catches him so off-guard that it takes him a second to realize that he's the sir.
film professor!toji, who rants in front of the whole class about how much it sucks to watch movies from your teeny tiny laptops. he’s a cinema guy, through and through. and of course, he understands if it’s like a money thing because well, it’s not the least expensive thing to do on a weekly basis but he just tries to emphasize how much better it is to watch things on the big screen. he urges all of you to always take the opportunity when it comes along.
film professor!toji, who fucking hates grading any sort of papers. he just despises it. he huffs and puffs behind his desk with his head in his hands, contemplating whether this is the right job for him or not (he will never quit).
film professor!toji, who mostly hangs out with his buddy down the hall, the loud-mouthed history teacher with pink hair. they go on smoke breaks together, laughing together over some stupid answer they saw on a test.
film professor!toji, who throws his head back with an exasperated sigh every time he spots the white-haired physics professor staring into the hall from the small window on the door with a stupidly big grin on his face.
film professor!toji, who’s schedule falls just in line with the sly literature professor and his brother, the freaky philosophy professor. toji refuses to sit next to the latter, he finds him too off-putting. but with mr. geto – they like to drink their morning coffees together in silence in their own little corner, and it’s surprisingly comfortable. sometimes they talk about films as well, but they almost always end up bickering like some old people because their tastes do not align at all.
film professor!toji, who doesn’t miss the way some of the students seem to swoon over him – he finds it very amusing. he doesn’t really see the appeal, he thinks he’s way too old anyway.
film professor!toji, who’s eyes do seem to linger on you just a little longer than they do on others though. who does a very subtle double-take whenever you enter the room and who steals glances at you when he sees you in the halls. it’s not like he’d ever try anything, of course – that’d be incredibly inappropriate. you’ but he sure does think you’re pretty, there’s no denying of that…
It's almost time for me to remove my current Solomon/Satan nails so I'd like y'all's help choosing which two OM characters will be the focus of my next set. I'm thinking of doing shorter nails (although they might still be considered long to some people) since my last two sets were pretty long.
*Solomon and Satan aren't included because they already got a set
Thank y'all in advance for helping my indecisive ass self out 🙏
If you have any suggestions for specific designs please let me know! I'd love the input
Today we took our little son to the hospital because he suffers from a chest infection that affects his breathing and causes him pain. I hope that every living conscience will help us save our young son’s life and donate any amount you can.
Unfortunately, there is no treatment in the hospital for my young son. Help us before it is too late.
@90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @nabulsi @gaza-evacuation-funds @schoolhater @commissions4aid-international @sar-soor @fairuzfan @flower-tea-fairies @schoolhater @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @sayruq @appsa @omiteo777 @malcriada @ilyabrums @beside-myself-with-glory
@just-browsing1222 @bat-luun @kaneverse @nightowlssleep @staretes @violetlyra @ashbakche @friendshapedplant @oglach-uisce @communistchilchuck @vakarians-babe @babygoatsandfriends @self-hating-zionist @neptunerings @mangocheesecakes @malcriada
but seriously, is there anything Jason and Dick can’t do if they work together? back to back in an outnumbered fight? hunting down a case in Bruce’s absence?
Hi everyone! Here's your Daily Reminder to Click for Palestine!
And if you can spare a dollar, donate to ANERA!
Paper cuts come when you least expect them. You thought it was pathetic that a mature human such as yourself couldn't even flip a page without slicing their skin open, but old Devildom books were made of the worst paper. Super thin, and sharp like a blade when touched at the wrong angle.
The small distraction sucked you out of the novel you were reading and back into reality. You shut the book and shook your hand, waiting for the pain to run its course. These actions did not go unnoticed.
"Let me see your hand," Satan murmured. He was suddenly looming over your armchair and gently cupping your fingers.
"It's not bad, don't worry." You were more concerned about the book's pages. Satan's collection had a lot of rare and expensive tomes. The novel in your lap looked fine, but how angry would Satan get if a drop of blood spilled onto it? He might not verbally assault you like he would others, but you feared he'd sulk about it for at least a few weeks.
Satan pulled a square cloth from his back pocket. He paused to stare at it. It looked fine. Maybe a little wrinkled, but nothing that should have made him frown. "My handkerchief is dirty."
He roughly shoved it back into the pocket and instead lifted the hem of his shirt, then lightly blotted at your wound with the still-warm fabric.
"Hey! Nooo, that's just going to make your clothes harder to clean later." You went to jerk your arm back, but Satan's gentle hold turned into an iron grip. Those abs weren't just for show. "It's gonna stain! Knock it off. I can lick it or something."
"Oh, good idea." Satan's shirt slid back down as he dropped it and knelt. He rested his elbows on the seat cushion, one on either side of your legs.
"I can do it! I can do it!" You tried to stop him, but he was already seductively dragging his tongue over your fingertip. "Don't even thi-- ahhh, Satan come on!"
There was far more blood rushing through your face than in the tiny little cut. It astounded you how Satan could pull off an embarrassing action so smoothly, without hesitation.
"Are you done yet?" You didn't know if it had been five seconds or five minutes, but you thought it was long enough.
"Mmh." He mercifully stopped, giving your palm a quick peck. "Move over."
The armchair was meant for one, but it was big and cushy. If you scooted to the side it could probably fit two. "Why?"
Satan was already climbing into the space next to you, raising you onto his legs. "I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen again. I'll read to you."
He leaned back into the chair, pulling you along with him, and curled an arm around your waist to reach the novel. "So, which page were you on?"
Sibling bond so strong, you both end up sick with same disease at the same time even though you are living in different cities far away from each other.
hello everyone! i was recently contacted by ahmed (@ahmadresh2) on behalf of his friend majed, who needed assistance organizing a fundraiser to help his family in gaza. you can read his story in the gofundme link, but majed recently lost his home and his brothers in an air strike, and his family members are now living in a tent, trying to survive the winter.
here is the gofundme link that i have put together for them -- all proceeds will go directly to his family in their time of need:
while the fundraiser is not officially verified, ahmed's fundraiser is, and i have not found duplicate images of the ones majed sent me using google search. we have also been communicating directly on whatsapp.
donations are always great, but if you can't donate, please spread the word by sharing the link or reblogging.
the fundraiser is currently at $25/$30,000.
Omg I'm a bit late because I was dead inside yesterday, so we're going to pretend today is both the first and second day of @obeymetournaments' Obey Me Month! Find the prompt list HERE. I'll make a masterlist of my posts once I get a few days posted. I often have difficulty keeping things short, so I'm using this event as a challenge to write a little drabble each day.
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
DAY 1 Prompt: Lucifer No warnings apply
You had heard that humans were rarely privy to a high-ranking angel’s true form. Whispers spoke of blinding light, golden rings and all-seeing eyes that would overwhelm a lesser being to tears. The average person would be unable to comprehend such majesty in the flesh, the angel having transcended to an entirely different realm of perception.
When you first arrived in the Devildom, you had considered yourself lucky that Simeon presented himself in the shape of a man. Then, why did your skin itch at the nape of your neck? Why did you feel as though every twitch of muscle was cataloged by some unseen camera?
Angels aren’t the only beasts that watch from many eyes.
You didn’t notice for the longest time. Intimidation prevented you from glancing in Lucifer’s direction for longer than three seconds. His glare would slip to meet your gaze, and you would duck your head, avert your eyes.
“It’s rude to stare,” He drawled, low and slow as if tasting a particularly complex vintage of demonus. “Though, I don’t mind if you do.”
His wings lifted in a flourish, stretched to their full span with feathers flexed and posed for show. It felt as though you were seeing his true form for the first time. For his wings were not the pitch black color of ravens perched on inky branches, but more the hue of the midnight sky.
You felt dunked into the abyss of a night void of stars, the glow from the moon snuffed out by the icy void. Like a leopard bathed in shadows, melanistic pelt cloaking its rosettes, dark threads embroidered each feather. A pattern revealed itself as Lucifer ruffled his wings, not unlike the eyes of a peacock’s tail swirling carefully through silken strands.
They were mesmerizing. Beautiful. So subtle, and yet, now you couldn’t unsee them.
Just as they couldn’t unsee you.
“Fear not,” Lucifer smirked, folding his wings behind his back. Still, the feathers stared. “You are not the only one I watch.”
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST
Satan "knows a guy" for everything. I love how social Satan is. I feel like we don't talk about it enough.
Find the prompt list HERE.
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
DAY 7 Prompt: Satan
It was a warm day in the Devildom. Not uncomfortably warm to the degree where peeling off your skin would be the only way to seek relief – No, it was only that warm in the desert region to the south, or in the steaming waters of Asmodeus’s bathtub – but warm enough that you could comfortably stroll from store to store in a shirt without requiring a sweater.
“It is a nice day out,” Satan observed, though you weren’t sure if he was speaking to himself or expecting an answer from you.
Apparently, you guessed wrong when you assumed the former. Curiosity tangoed with amusement in his sea green eyes, peering at you as you took slightly longer strides than usual to keep up with his brisk pace. “Is that why you wanted to accompany me?”
“No.” You shook your head, tugging open the door to Hell’s Supermarket and grinning at him with all your teeth. He thanked you, a slightly bewildered expression lancing across his face as he entered the store before you. He probably hadn’t anticipated such a direct response.
“Ah! Satan! Good afternoon,” A fresh faced demon waved from where she leaned over the death deli counter. “Your turn to buy the groceries?”
“Yes.” With a charming smile that squinted his eyes into crescent moons, Satan offered a playful, “I’m lucky I wasn’t the one on grocery duty yesterday.”
You grabbed a basket, and started surveying the meat that the demon had available. Though you pretended to be very occupied choosing between smoked basilisk and oven-roasted black tapir, you eavesdropped on the easy volley of conversation between the store clerk and the Avatar of Wrath.
“Oh, yes. The rain was just awful.” She frowned, “Your brother made quite a fuss when he stormed in here.”
Satan laughed sheepishly, “Well, that’s Mammon’s fault for failing to check the forecast.”
The demon giggled, glancing towards you for a brief moment before concluding, “Sure, but I’m certainly happy to see you in his place. What can I get the two of you today?”
“Why are you smiling?” Satan asked as you both exited the store, two shopping bags in his grasp.
“No reason.” You chirped, unable to hide the giddy bubble swelling in your chest. A lie would have to suffice. “If I close my eyes, the moonlight is almost as bright as the sun.”
And you did just that, allowing the affection thrumming throughout your body to spill over into a silly display of closing your eyes and craning your face towards the moon. You heard Satan click his tongue, though you know it was less a sound of irritation, and more a warning to the many demons passing by to watch out for your blind steps.
Despite the beautiful weather, the downtown strip wasn’t overwhelmingly busy. Merchants seemed to be taking advantage of the quiet afternoon, tidying the front of their stores or preparing new window displays. Even the patio of Hell’s Kitchen was rather empty, with only a handful of patrons munching on a burger and sipping a glass of demonus.
“Are you homesick?” Satan asked, sometime after he had used a book he thought would interest the shopkeeper at Demoning to negotiate a deal on tea leaves, and sometime before making plans to visit the theater with the piano technician at the music store. You had stopped there to purchase a new metronome, as the old one had mysteriously disappeared (Mammon had probably sold it), but you weren’t bothered in the slightest by the employee's fifteen minute review of the visiting symphony. Frankly, Satan committing to plans with someone outside of the House of Lamentation delighted you greatly.
“Nah.” This time, it wasn’t a lie.
His steps paused. His emerald eyes swept over you, his brow slightly creased as he tried to see into your soul. You weren’t sure what he surmised from your body language, but he came to some sort of conclusion, as he turned on his heel. “Wait here for a moment.”
You watched as his mop of golden hair retreated across the street, to the bored popcorn vendor lingering outside of Café Lament. It was entertaining, the way he moved with such alert grace. You could practically picture fluffy ears flicking this way and that atop his head.
He did possess a sort of feline quality, in his movements, in his behavior. He managed to hold a conversation while being more observant than the average demon about his surroundings. The entire time the vendor filled his order, he made small talk that seemed genuine despite his attention remaining on you. You could feel it.
Satan returned with popcorn, movie theater yellow and wrapped up in a commercial striped bucket. “It’s simple butter and salt. I figured you may want a snack that reminds you of home. The vendor also had an extra coffee from Café Lament, and he was nice enough to offer it to me.”
You accepted the gift, regardless of the meaning. If it comforted Satan to think that he had cheered you up by buying you a snack, then you would let it be. In reality, simply existing in his space was what had encouraged you to accompany him from the start. His company was quiet, honest, and steady.
You knocked your popcorn carton against his coffee cup.
You had a feeling many others appreciated his company, too.
Well, except for the jackass who slammed right into Satan’s chest. The demon’s face had been buried in his D.D.D. It was now dripping with premium hell coffee.
You flinched, gasped, braced yourself for the inevitable blow up. Satan’s hand – the one that wasn’t drenched in spilt coffee – clamped onto the demon’s bicep, steered him off to the side of the street. Should you look away? It was probably best to avoid witnessing a murder.
But then, the demon was walking away, completely unscathed, and Satan was returning to your side with only a mildly perturbed expression.
“You aren’t upset?” You asked, eyeing the bright skin of his index finger where the hot coffee had gushed over his skin.
“Hm?” He didn’t seem to understand why you would even ask. “No. Why would I be? It was an honest mistake.”
It was as if the record had skipped and you were stuck in this moment where only the audience understood the irony of the situation. You filled him in. “Lucifer did the same thing when he was half-asleep two weeks ago and you summoned hellfire to burn his phonograph to smithereens.”
“Well,” Satan laughed, loud and brash. “That was personal.”
── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
OBEY ME! MONTH MASTERLIST
“feel no guilt in your desires”
linocut, black ink on off-white linen
i think if i was crying very hard mammon would hold me. in my heart.
would love to confuse diavolo
Not too long after you first came to the devildom but sometime after you got. more comfortable, Diavolo is visiting the HOL and catches you in the kitchen making a sandwich and dancing in a very alien manner to no music (it's a song stuck in your head) and he's very confused. Is the human broken? Why are you doing that.
why did I just see a debate about whether shotgunning “even gets you high” as if shotgunning isn’t first and foremost about making it gay with you friends ?????? get a grip
MC you fucking bitch