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( because he was reminded, and because he never feels guilty enough to stop from being naughty: )

you owe me a knife.

but if you can't do the knife, i want a goat.

Good morning. It's Tim.

I want to thank you for last night. I needed that. :)

Also, I should tell you that there's someone very angry about it. We're not together anymore, but he might fuss at you anyway. Just ignore him.

You didn't tell me you had two faces running around this place when we were playing card tricks.

[ not that he asked, but there's an accusation in it. he might have given an incomplete handjob to god with the same face. who knew. ]

so what's the devil's music of choice?

image.png

[sorry i am going to just walk in here because i can.]

Are you him? 'Lucifer'.

Edited (can't even word smh) 2024-07-30 03:38 (UTC)

Hello Luci. I hope you've been well.

Have you been back down to Otherworld? I was hoping you knew if we're allowed to have things from there.

luci.
you are "cool".

[ The image: Matt in a hospital bed, bare-chested with the thin sheet pulled over his hips. There's a green lotus tattoo over his heart, and another tattoo on his right hip depicting a half-monkey, half-man figure. At his left side, just below the ribs, is a fresh perforation--angry pink, a few days old at most. It's criss-crossed with stitches and smeared with salve.

The message: ]

It's not as bad as it looks, I promise you can still fuck me

I've been stuck in this bed for days

How can somewhere so big be so small

You told me once that my faith was a turn on.

How come I never see you at the chapel, then?

Are you in need of anything, Lord?

hey perv
you got something of yours i can use?

[ so. let's talk about a boy named nick. ]

hey mr lucifer, you got a moment to like, litigate a pact real quick?

you got a minute? 💖

[ keeping up with the humans is exhausting, and sometimes the reassurance of the familiar helps to recharge.

dita's rolling up to the dark prince, plopping herself onto his feet. unholy father, you really should shower sometime. you smell like the locals. ]

[the hellhound bursts through the endless hallways, each thudding step drawing nearer and nearer until it reaches Lucifer's room. huffing thick smoke from its nostrils and mouth, one bite burns through the door. standing at five feet on all fours, its shape takes on a wolf-like silhouette, forged from fire and shadow. the hound keeps its hackles raised while it prowls back and forth.

it can't do anything to Lucifer, and it knows that. temperamental, its lips curl back, forked tongue flicking over teeth as rumbling growls vibrate through the air. unless killed (only to return again minutes later) the beast stays put to keep a watchful eye on him for the next hour.]

[ in front of lucifer's door, he'll find a small glass vase filled with a bouquet of orange chrysanthemums, with a small note attached that reads, in an almost childish scribble: ]

To My Precious Friend,

I found these flowers in the garden and I thought of you so I have picked them so you could see them and enjoy them as well.

Dearly Yours,
Bella Baxter

[ A gift, left in his doorway, with a note on top:

Lucifer;

I like being with you, too.

- L

Inside the box is a series of little presents wrapped in tissue paper; a dragon, small but carved out of wood, with glass eyes that seem to have a strangely eerie glow; a stuffed cat toy, ginger in colour, that eerily matches the one that Lauralae herself has; a pair of handsome leather gloves, very dom-esque; a lock of her hair, twisted up and pressed into a locket; a flower crown, made out of a mixture of red, blue, white and black flowers. ]

you up?

( is this really the time to be picking a fight with the devil? probably not.

is he still going to do it though? you bet. ~~aka guess who just found out that luci moved next door to nick~~. )

So, what fuckin' stroke of genius made you think it was alright movin' next door to Nick?

text — un: goatface

morning after; t.laughlin

un: stein

text — un: freak

no subject

un: MICHAEL

text; un: t.laughlin

un: lauralae

text; un: persephone (cw: wounds)

no subject

un; t.laughlin