the devil has many names

Damien Thorn fc: bradley james indie roleplay | 21+ written by grim

[om3ned]

† main † bio † face † muse † starters † wishlist †

about:

This is a sideblog, and I follow back from my main @grimmusings. Please direct IMs there, since it's easier for me to keep all my messages on one blog. It's also easier to start interactions with me there, where I regularly post open starters and meme prompts. For a full list of rules, see my main. Honesty hour questions will largely be answered IC and treated as anonymous unless signed by a muse.

Damien is a canon character from the A&E television series. All details vary based on verse, but in general I pull his backstory from the show and the first movie, without a lot of influence from the rest of the films. I'm happy to write him into AUs and fandom crossovers.

wanted connections:

This is by no means a comprehensive list, and I can roll with most muses as far as basic interactions. I’m happy to ship Damien with other horror characters and OCs/fandom crossovers based on chemistry.

Friends: Amani Golkar, Simone Baptiste Family: Lucifer Morningstar, Jack Kline/any other Antichrist siblings Other: Sam & Dean Winchester, Castiel, John Constantine, Crowley & Aziraphale, crossovers from other horror/paranormal fandoms

default verses:

canon (+/-): Any events that take place before or during the timeline of the show where Damien, working as a war photographer, is either oblivious to who he is or still discovering it. He does not have most of his childhood memories.

horror!verse: After Damien's suicide attempt and his mother's death, he flees before the final events of the show. He knows who and what he is and has some of his power, but it still largely manifests in terrible accidents and people acting strangely around him.

verses by request only:

I'm happy to write these, but since they're more specific AUs, I don't default on them for asks/memes. Please feel free to request them.

the devil you know: Damien accepts his power to save Simone and immediately flees to avoid being corrupted by it, terrified of what he can do.

full dark / no stars: Damien accepts his power to save Simone and is corrupted by it, following the political path Rutledge and Lyons have laid out for him to eventually bring about hell on Earth.

[fangsforhire]

@om3ned followed from  | ℒ |

He sat back, fingers flexing against his knee, eyes drifting away for a beat as if searching the dark corners of the room for an easier answer. None came. ‘Expert,’ he muttered finally, a quiet scoff under his breath. ‘That’s generous. Surviving doesn’t make me an authority. It just means I’m too stubborn to stay dead.’ The silence stretched. His jaw worked once, as though chewing over words he rarely spoke aloud. ‘Truth is…’ A pause, lips parting, then closing again before he pushed forward. ‘All I’ve ever wanted was a family. Not power. Not a throne. Just… people to come home to. Something to anchor me when everything else was chaos. Something I could keep, protect, instead of watching it all burn.’ He gave a faint, quiet laugh, shaking his head at the absurdity of the confession. ‘Didn’t think I’d ever say that out loud. Guess centuries of blood and betrayal will do that to a man — make him crave the one thing he’s never managed to hold onto.’ At last, he looked back at Damien, gaze steady, stripped of its usual bravado. ‘So if you’re asking me if I want a brother? Maybe … I don’t know how to be one. I don’t have a handbook for it. But I’m not going to turn you away, either. You didn’t ask for this life any more than I did. That’s enough to start with. Eh?’

[om3ned]

"This place feels pretty authoritative to me." He gestured vaguely at the expanse of L & Strix. Maybe Lucien wasn't running it, but he was associated, and apparently the devil wasn't that big of a deal here. Damien still hadn't fully wrapped his mind around it. He was just grateful to be somewhere where his power didn't make every innocent bystander want to jump off a bridge because there were no innocent bystanders. Everyone here dealt with things like this, or worse, on a daily basis.

He was quiet, listening to Lucien work through it. They didn't know each other very well yet. Damien knew he'd only picked up fragments of what sounded like a very long life so far. But he knew what it was like to be alone and to long for a family. Not the absurd, terrifying familiarity and worship that strangers had for him, but a real family to come home to, to laugh with, to lean on. "My parents died when I was small. Until recently, I… I didn't even remember them. I haven't had a family in a really long time."

He nodded once, a confirmation, and relaxed back into the chair. "I don't think there is a handbook. I don't know how to do this any more than you do, but… I think we can figure it out."

[crownedinsin-a]

~ @om3ned || cont'd from my old blog ~

Lucifer looks at Damien, studying him for a moment. This was supposed to be the Antichrist, the one to bring about Hell on Earth and force Heaven into a war that could wipe out humanity. Instead, he's sitting there cajoling Satan into making a deal. Perhaps he's more like his father than initially suspected. He can't force Damien to be a part of the plan. And he's grown a little fond of talking to him. As much as he is loath to admit it, the company that his son has provided has been nice. Having someone to look out for is a feeling that Lucifer didn't even realise he missed.

He could always try and make another Antichrist next century. Heaven, unfortunately, wasn't going anywhere.

"Fine. But I would like to put forward some of my own conditions too." He's not going to just blindly agree, it goes against every Satanic instinct. "You are here to get to know me, not to change me. Don't be under the illusion that familial kindness will 'save me'. I want you to know me as I am, not who you'd like me to be." He straightens, extending a hand. "If you can accept that, then we have a deal."

[om3ned]

He nodded for him to go ahead, cautious but willing to hear him out. He should have expected conditions, but to be fair, he wasn't doing his clearest thinking right now. Nor was he doing his best poker face, confusion flickering through his expression. None of that sounded… horrible, actually. He was clear-headed enough to realize Lucifer could have asked for much worse. He could have asked to torture him for eternity, and Damien would have had to agree, if it meant the world was safe.

"I don't think I'm in a position to save anyone… you know, morally." The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but the idea of one at least. It felt like whatever remaining shreds of a soul he had turned black when he reached out to shake his hand. "Deal. So, do you prefer 'Dad' or…?" If he didn't break this tension with teasing, he was going to lose his goddamn mind. Pun intended.

[om3ned]

the devil that you know.

@sioraiocht

Fr Karras is silent, a prickle of unease creeping up the back of his neck. He's felt that same feeling once before. When Satan was spitting venom at him through the mouth of Regan MacNeil. He'd been more naive back then. Unprepared. Fingers tighten around the rosary beads in his pocket. "If you are a friend of the Devil that I know, then I cannot imagine we will have much in common." Eyes watch, careful. "What's your name?"

"I didn't say I was a friend." Damien was practically shaking, fear and desperation roiling inside him. He'd almost been killed by a nun. He expected no better from Father Karras, but he was at the end of his rope. He didn't come closer, not trying to threaten him, but that didn't mean nothing would happen to him. People seemed to drop dead around Damien for no apparent reason. He didn't answer his question either, concerned his name would tell him far too much about him. "Father, please help me."

[strawlessandbraless]

Persona by Francois Nars (2021)

yes sire

[om3ned]

'So do we call eachother brothers or?'

He huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. "I have no idea, man. You're the expert here. Do you want a brother? I mean… you didn't ask for this any more than I did." Damien hadn't come here to fuck up Lucien's life. Actually, he hadn't intended to come here at all. He'd thought only of getting away, away from bodies on the ground and that terrible power welling up in him, and for once it had responded in a way that wasn't the most horrible. It brought him to L & Strix and the family member that didn't want him to end the world in fire and blood.

Lucien had found a way past that apocalyptic destiny. It gave Damien the first real hope he'd ever had that he might find a way past it too. Nobody else had indicated that there was an opt-out button, that he could just… be what he was and not bring about destruction on a worldwide scale. But also those people had agendas, something they wanted from him. They'd been preparing for the Antichrist a long time and stood to benefit from it. As far as he could tell, Lucien didn't want anything from him. It made him more trustworthy, and it helped that it was an option Damien actually liked. He didn't want to hurt people.

[om3ned]

❛ i didn’t ask to get made. ❜

@gethound-ed

"Neither did I! Nobody asks for existence." Damien swallowed roughly, his pulse slowly returning to normal. He was calmer than he'd been a few moments ago, but he thought a guy was entitled to a little panic when his OF date turned out to be a… a… whatever she was. He wasn't well-versed in the vocabulary of hell yet. Probably, he should have been doing research on that since he'd discovered he was the literal child of the devil, but instead he'd been running from it, as hard and fast as he could. It fucking figured he'd end up right back here anyway.

"I… what-- are you?" It wasn't the question he really wanted to ask--Did you always know what I was?--but it was the one that came out. Total strangers knew what Damien was. They called his name and tried to throw themselves off bridges in his honor. It was too much to hope for that an actual denizen of hell hadn't recognized him. He could see her true face now, hidden like a shadow beneath the pretty exterior. Maybe the worst part was that she was no less alluring. That power in him that he hated and denied and refused to fully accept responded to her, drawn to something it considered familiar. He shuddered, feeling slightly turned on and slightly nauseous and not sure how it could be both.

[om3ned]

❛ no , it's perfectly possible . it's just bloody difficult . ❜

@crownedinsin

Damien had accepted his power to save Simone's life--or rather, to bring her back to life, because he was pretty sure she'd been dead dead with a bullet in her brain. But only for a second. For as hard as he'd been resisting it, it was over so fast. He'd reacted on pure instinct, pulling on that awful power to drag her back, and the miraculous thing was that it had worked. He'd avoided such godly (er, devilish?) displays since then, but not because he thought he couldn't do it. He was terrified to look too closely at it, terrified by the dark allure of it, terrified to lose himself in it and become what everyone said he was.

He'd finally landed on a cause he considered worth the risk though, and that was bringing his ex-girlfriend back to life. If he could save Simone, then it stood to reason he could save Kelly too, even though she'd been dead much longer. It was his fault. A lot of people had died horribly just from standing too close to him while he remained willfully ignorant of what he was. He couldn't fix all the damage he'd done, but he thought maybe he could right that one wrong and give Simone her sister back.

"Difficult how? Like… you have to sacrifice a virgin or rip a hole in the space/time continuum? Is she going to come back all rotting and covered in goop? I'm not asking you to do it for me. I just want to know if-- if I can, and how. She didn't deserve to die because of me."

[om3ned]

There was nothing stopping the full body flinch at hearing those words directly from the source. He'd asked, he'd known the answer, and he still wasn't prepared to hear them. Hopelessness swept abruptly through him, his heart bottoming out somewhere near his feet. Was that it, then? His destiny was death and destruction on an apocalyptic scale, no matter how he tried to resist it? As impossible as it seemed, his impulse was still to reach for this person who'd been a comfort to him when no one else was, to ask his advice and seek solace in his answers. But that was a lie too.

"Great. Makes it all bearable, the fact that you like me personally." The sarcasm was a defense mechanism, one of the only ones he had left to him with that hollowness seeping through him. He wanted an opt-out button, but there wasn't one. He'd already failed to kill himself. Worse, if he succeeded, he knew this power would simply pass to the next in line. He couldn't bring himself to put that curse on someone else. "Why would I want that?" The words were faint, a little life coming back to his eyes as he searched his face. "Why would you? I thought you liked it here."

[crownedinsin-arc-deactivated202]

"Frankly, it should make it bearable - I don't like many people." The sarcasm from Damien makes Lucifer a little proud - Even though he's aware that that's not the reaction he should be having. It's causing a feeling in his chest, seeing his son in pain - Remorse? Hardly - He never feels anything like that. Although - Is it? He bites back a growl of annoyance at this son who's forced him to feel something other than hatred.

"Because it would greatly fuck up plans upstairs." A finger points upwards. Eyes darken, blackening with thousands of years of chained up rage. "Do you know how much I am blamed for?" Hand gestures around. "Everything. People murder - 'The Devil made me do it' - they gamble away their kid's inheritance - 'Satan got a hold of my wallet' -Fanatics start a cult in my name, which I never asked them to do and use that as an excuse to assault, kill, steal and somehow it's my fault - So, I decided that I'm really going to give them a fucking problem. Hence, you." He leans forward. "I assume everything you know about me is what's been told in media and by priests or nuns with more secrets in their closets than coins in their coffers. But I'd like to remind you that history is written by the victors and I'm really not as bad as they'd like to make out."

[om3ned]

@crownedinsin

Was that supposed to be flattering? There was no room in the tempest of emptions howling through him for such a thing. On a purely practical level, he supposed it was better than the alternative. The devil hating him sounded like a bigger problem than the ones he already had. Didn't it? Unless being hated by evil somehow made him good. The ethics of it were too complicated to sort out. He wasn’t a philosopher. He was just a war photographer. A few months ago, he hadn’t even believed in god, much less the devil.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to recoil slightly from those uncanny black eyes, all the rage in them. It was an animal instinct, the same part of his brain that understood that he was telling the truth recognizing something entirely alien to itself, something that could destroy him easily and without remorse. In spite of himself, Damien felt the smallest flare of sympathy for him. He knew firsthand what it was like to be blamed for things beyond his control. That same cop had been hounding him since Kelly's death, convinced that somehow Damien was behind it and all the ones that followed. It turned out he had been, but still, not intentionally.

He licked his lips, mind racing, elbows resting on his knees as he mirrored the movement, leaning slightly toward him this time. He held his gaze, not flinching away from those unnatural eyes again, the fear settling into something more like resolve. "Prove it. If you're not as bad as people say then… then the world gets to stay as it is. No power trip, no apocalypse. And you and I… can get to know each other. The truth this time. You're right. Everything I know about the devil is secondhand. But everything I know about you…" He swallowed, thinking back to all the times he'd found himself in the bar with nowhere else to go, and he’d helped him. With ulterior motives, perhaps, but the result was the same.

"You've only ever tried to help me. If a fair shot is really what you want, those are my terms." Not five minutes into knowing he was Lucifer, and here he was already trying to make a deal with the devil. He had no idea if it would work, or if he even mattered enough to his …father… for him to accept, but it was the only bargaining chip he had. Himself. It was a small sacrifice to protect an entire world when Damien was damned either way.

[om3ned]

do you feel that any lie is a betrayal?

@crownedinsin

Damien didn't know why he kept returning to this particular bar. If he had any sense at all, he'd be avoiding any connection with strangers, as most of them lately had turned out to be part of a vast conspiracy that believed he was the son of the devil. But he was rapidly running out of spaces that felt untouched from that madness, and nothing bad had ever happened to him here. He felt comfortably anonymous, and the bartender had already proven he didn't rattle easily.

He mulled over the question, idly peeling at the corner of the label from his beer bottle. It wasn't his first, and perhaps that was what loosened his tongue. "I think only children can afford to look at the world like that. Black or white. Good or evil. Truth or lies. Adult life is more complicated. If I just saw a kid get half his face burnt off by an IED, and he asks me if he's going to be okay, then telling the truth isn't just harmful, it's… it's monstrous. Some lies are comforting, even necessary."

[crownedinsin-arc-deactivated202]

Lucifer's treading in dangerous waters. It's probably inadvisable to get so close to Damien. Especially when things are ramping up, the chaos swirling around him. Satan's proximity is probably only making the situation worse and yet he cannot help it. He has a fascination with his son, a desire to learn everything about him and in turn, a need to protect him has arisen. "I'm glad to hear you say that." He pretends to polish a glass. That's the worst part of this ruse - He has to pretend to work.

Lucifer leans over to grab another bottle of beer, opening it and placing it in front of Damien. "I think that people who claim to be constantly truthful are full of shit and usually end up being dickheads." He grins, leaning against the counter. "I think sometimes lies are necessary." At least, he hopes that'll be the understanding. Lucifer has told the biggest lie of all. "Can I ask - Are you from around here? You're always in here on your own. No family or friends?"

[om3ned]

@crownedinsin

"Thanks." He traded the empty bottle for the fresh one and took a sip. It probably wasn't advisable for him to keep drinking, but it was the first time in weeks he'd felt relaxed. He wanted to hold onto the feeling a little longer. "Exactly. Nobody tells the truth all the time. Anyone who says they do is trying to pull one over on you," he chuckled.

"It's such an amorphous thing anyway, the truth… Stories look different from every side. I can take pictures. I can show what happened. But everyone's interpretation of it is going to be different." He realized he was rambling now and stopped, taking another drink. That probably wasn't going to help with the rambling. "I am from here, but I travel a lot for work. Most of my friends are other photographers. My parents died when I was a kid… I don't really remember them. I don't remember most of my childhood, actually." He frowned, thoughtful. It had never seemed strange to him until recently, when he discovered Ann Rutledge practically had a museum in her basement of his childhood artifacts. "What about you?"

[om3ned]

It wasn't clear whether he even heard him, caught in a loop of his own thoughts replaying the last twenty-four hours in vivid, horrifying detail. At the same time, he felt oddly detached from all of it, as though he'd watched it happening to someone else. He blinked at those oddly familiar eyes, swallowing as he felt the warmth of the jacket around his shoulders, nodding a little too quickly. Okay. Yes. Damien wanted to believe him, but more than that, he just needed someone else to be in charge right now.

He slid his arms into the sleeves, hugging the jacket around him, as much to cover the blood as for the warmth. It was oddly comforting though, a soft, normal contrast to the horror film his life had become. He followed him obediently to the car, relief seeping through him when he sank into the passenger seat. He felt less exposed, the car providing a layer of distance between him and a world gone mad. "Thank you for this. I-- this is going to sound insane." He stared down at his hands, the layer of blood on them starting to dry and peel off in little flakes.

He drew a breath and launched into the story, describing his meeting with Sister Greta and how she'd seemed to have the answers, the trust he'd put in her only to find himself wrapped in thorns at the bottom of a grave. "I thought she was trying to get rid of it, but I think-- I think the opposite happened. It felt like she woke something up… something terrible that had always been there. I-- I stabbed her. I fucking killed a nun. That has to be like a direct ticket to hell, right?" He was babbling, losing the thread now that he'd forced himself to relive it. He didn't actually know if Greta was dead. Perhaps she could be saved, if the other nuns were quick enough. Perhaps this bartender, who was virtually just a kind stranger, would drive him straight to the police station now that he'd confessed to murder.

[crownedinsin-arc-deactivated202]

"I think you'll find that I have a high tolerance for things that sound 'insane'." Lucifer turns on the engine, glancing into the rearview mirror before pulling out into the street. He listens, a silent anger brewing the more Damien speaks. Fucking nuns. He rarely has any patience for them. Priests, nuns, missionaries - They parade around preaching the Lord's word as a cover-up for all the heinous acts they're committing under the guise of the cloth. Many a priest and nun have found themselves strung up in his halls for their actions in life. "I wouldn't worry about that. It's self-defence, she's the one who buried you in a grave and wrapped you in thorns." Lucifer's voice is strangled from the anger, eyes black with rage as he pulls up outside his home. He'll burn the whole institution to the ground if he has to.

He leaves the car, his hellhounds appearing from the shadows as he moves around to open the door for Damien. "Protect him." He murmurs softly to them before reaching to help his son out of the car. "You'll have to forgive my dogs, they're overly friendly." He watches as Barghest takes charge, sniffing Damien before crowding around him, the other two following suit. "Right -" He supports him, leading the way inside. He doesn't settle until they're safely in the living room, the hounds seated on either side of Damien. "You'll stay here until I find out more about the nun and what happened." He drops down to his son's eye-level. "You said it felt like she'd woken something up. Tell me more about that? What did it feel like?"

[om3ned]

@crownedinsin

"Right. Self-defense." He chuckled weakly, rubbing at his forehead. His head ached along with everything else, but all things considered, he thought he should be in much worse shape. He wasn't sure if it counted as self-defense when he could have just walked away. He couldn't even say for sure why he'd done it, except he was half out of his head from being tortured in a fucking hole in the ground. The whole thing felt dreamlike now, or perhaps nightmarish would have been a better term. He thought it should have felt bad, to stab someone, but it hadn't really felt like anything. It still didn't. He didn't feel very much at all.

"Thanks…" He was vaguely surprised to realize he needed the help getting out of the car, his limbs cold and clumsy. His breath caught at the sight of the dogs--the scholar he'd visited to talk to about this had been killed by one shortly after--but they didn't seem like a threat. He didn't really look around once they were inside, past caring about his surroundings. He reached out to pet one of the dogs, oddly comforted by their presence. He'd always liked them, but he'd moved around too much to ever consider getting one of his own. The quiet comfort of them steadied him a little, and he drew a breath, holding his gaze. "I'm sorry to put this on you. I'm-- I appreciate your help."

What did it feel like? His gaze went distant, inward, thinking back. "I was… afraid and… helpless. It was darker down there, somehow, and it was like all these voices were talking to me. I thought I could see them, sometimes. I thought I was losing my mind. And then it was like something else was there, but it was me, and it was awake. It wanted to be free, and it wanted to hurt the people who were hurting me. It… roared. It was angry. It felt powerful. It felt like…" He swallowed, trembling. "It felt like all the times I knew when something terrible was about to happen. It's part of the reason I became a photographer. I had a sense for where the stories where, where something that had been smoldering for weeks or years was finally going to ignite-- the most fucking gruesome things people could do to each other, and I was always right there waiting for it to happen. It felt like that, only now it was looking at me. And it knew that I saw it too."

[stardaancer-deactivated20250804]

Muse: Thales Open to: 21+ only / mutuals and non-mutuals! / m or f muses Plot: Thales is enacting some self-appointed training to hone her skills as a tracker, so that she might someday be chosen to guard one of the gates of hell. She catches your muse (a sinner— either actually attempting to escape, or simply a friend that’s kind enough to help her in this endeavor).

The enormous canid roars as she pounces upon the would be escapee. Hers is not a strength to be reckoned with…Thales may not be as large and intimidating as her siblings, but what she lacks in size, she makes up for in…Well, not much, actually. She’s quite meek by comparison. Even with her muzzle pressed against the sinner’s cheek, every warm huff of breath fanning across their features is colored with uncertainty.

After a painful few moments of silence, Thales begrudgingly shifts backward and off of them. Fur slowly recedes; along with the toothy maw; and even her tail, and furred ears vanish — leaving only a sheepish looking young woman where a great beast had previously stood.

“…Be honest. Were you at all frightened?”

[om3ned]

It wasn't a good idea to attack Damien. It never ended well for the other person. He wasn't especially aggressive, but he was dangerous. The power he'd never wanted or asked for tended to lash out without his permission, and people died very strange deaths if they got too close. So it was a complete surprise when something took him down, Damien landing on the rough rock with a huff as the hellhound's weight pressed into him.

Confusion flickered through him. He couldn't tell if she was attacking or cuddling, a tentative hand coming up to scritch behind her ears. Lucifer seemed to think the best way to get Damien's compliance on that whole end of the world business was to keep him captive in Hell until he agreed. He was still looking for an exit, not because he really expected to find one--what good would it do him to get back to Earth? he'd still be cursed--but because it was something to do.

"Ah-- you were very scary…" Okay, he didn't even believe himself. "…On the pounce. Didn't even see it coming. But it felt like you lost your nerve after that. Maybe try some more growls."

[om3ned]

“ i can’t see into the future i’m not a witch. “

@crownedinsin

"No, you're the goddamn devil!" Last month, Damien wouldn't have thought those words could ever come out of his mouth, much less that he would believe them. He didn't just believe, though. He knew. He knew it deep in his bones, in the lizard part of his brain that understood things his more domesticated sensibilities could never comprehend. He knew this man was exactly what he said he was, as surely as he knew that there was some hideous, unexplained connection between them. It felt like a betrayal at the same time that he felt he should always have known. Some part of that awful power inside him had recognized him all along.

"So is that-- is that what you wanted? The same as Lyons and Armitage? You want me to, what, destroy the world through politics? Was that your big plan for the future! Tell me!" Despite his insistence that he didn't know the future, Damien couldn't accept that as an answer. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had a plan for this power he hadn't asked for and didn't even want. He couldn't imagine the devil was any different. If anything, he was probably worse. That was the point, right?

[crownedinsin-arc-deactivated202]

Lucifer knows he should feel guilty. And in his own, strange way - He does. It'd been easier to associate Damien with being a weapon when he hadn't spent time around him. However, now that he's gotten to know his son - It's complicated everything. "Well - Yes." No point lying about it. "My goal for you was to bring about Hell on earth. You were to bring about the end of times and be a direct opposition to Jesus. Hence -" He gestures at Damien. "Antichrist."

"In my defence -" There's really no defence but he'll give it his best shot. "I didn't expect to end up liking you. I just shipped you off up to Earth and was waiting for the day you'd be ready. Then I met you and realised you're actually quite enjoyable to be around." Father of the year. "Don't be pissy with me, plans can change - We don't have to do the whole 'ending the world' thing" Brow lifts. "Unless you want to - In which case, crack on."

[om3ned]

There was nothing stopping the full body flinch at hearing those words directly from the source. He'd asked, he'd known the answer, and he still wasn't prepared to hear them. Hopelessness swept abruptly through him, his heart bottoming out somewhere near his feet. Was that it, then? His destiny was death and destruction on an apocalyptic scale, no matter how he tried to resist it? As impossible as it seemed, his impulse was still to reach for this person who'd been a comfort to him when no one else was, to ask his advice and seek solace in his answers. But that was a lie too.

"Great. Makes it all bearable, the fact that you like me personally." The sarcasm was a defense mechanism, one of the only ones he had left to him with that hollowness seeping through him. He wanted an opt-out button, but there wasn't one. He'd already failed to kill himself. Worse, if he succeeded, he knew this power would simply pass to the next in line. He couldn't bring himself to put that curse on someone else. "Why would I want that?" The words were faint, a little life coming back to his eyes as he searched his face. "Why would you? I thought you liked it here."

[om3ned]

muse: Damien Thorn (A&E's Damien) open to: mutuals and non-mutuals / 21+ / other horror muses, multifandom crossovers, etc. / OCs welcome if you have active threads with mine plot: Damien flees before the final events of the show. He knows who and what he is and has some of his power, but he has not yet fully accepted it (nor does he wish to). trigger warnings: suicide/suicidal ideation, animal death/dead animals, religious themes

Damien wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. He wasn’t even sure where here was, although if he had to guess, it was somewhere isolated outside of the city. Maybe he wasn’t even in New York state anymore since the weather had changed, a light snow now falling. He’d found a place to sit on a stone bench under some trees, and he’d been there long enough that the cold had started to seep into him, his fingers and toes numbing. He didn’t fool himself into thinking he could actually die from exposure. His last attempt to end his life had been, probably literally, a miraculous failure.

But it seemed like a lot of effort to get up and leave. He didn’t know where to go or what to do next. He’d thought only of getting away, of trying to outrun the truth of himself, but if anything, that display of power had only reinforced what he’d been trying to ignore. He could no longer pretend it was all some grand conspiracy. Something was wrong with him. The proof was everywhere he turned.

He didn’t look up at the sound of footsteps, his face in his hands, but he spoke clearly. “You probably don’t want to come any closer.” He’d already seen what had likely drawn their attention: a ring of dead crows circling the ground around him and the bench. It looked intentional, but it wasn’t. Things had a tendency to drop dead around him of no apparent cause.

[om3ned]

“ i can’t see into the future i’m not a witch. “

@crownedinsin

"No, you're the goddamn devil!" Last month, Damien wouldn't have thought those words could ever come out of his mouth, much less that he would believe them. He didn't just believe, though. He knew. He knew it deep in his bones, in the lizard part of his brain that understood things his more domesticated sensibilities could never comprehend. He knew this man was exactly what he said he was, as surely as he knew that there was some hideous, unexplained connection between them. It felt like a betrayal at the same time that he felt he should always have known. Some part of that awful power inside him had recognized him all along.

"So is that-- is that what you wanted? The same as Lyons and Armitage? You want me to, what, destroy the world through politics? Was that your big plan for the future! Tell me!" Despite his insistence that he didn't know the future, Damien couldn't accept that as an answer. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had a plan for this power he hadn't asked for and didn't even want. He couldn't imagine the devil was any different. If anything, he was probably worse. That was the point, right?

[om3ned]

do you feel that any lie is a betrayal?

@crownedinsin

Damien didn't know why he kept returning to this particular bar. If he had any sense at all, he'd be avoiding any connection with strangers, as most of them lately had turned out to be part of a vast conspiracy that believed he was the son of the devil. But he was rapidly running out of spaces that felt untouched from that madness, and nothing bad had ever happened to him here. He felt comfortably anonymous, and the bartender had already proven he didn't rattle easily.

He mulled over the question, idly peeling at the corner of the label from his beer bottle. It wasn't his first, and perhaps that was what loosened his tongue. "I think only children can afford to look at the world like that. Black or white. Good or evil. Truth or lies. Adult life is more complicated. If I just saw a kid get half his face burnt off by an IED, and he asks me if he's going to be okay, then telling the truth isn't just harmful, it's… it's monstrous. Some lies are comforting, even necessary."

[om3ned]

❛ It's amazing how far you can get on denial. You know why so many people use denial to get by? Because it really fucking works. ❜

@crownedinsin

Damien hadn't really intended to show up at the same bar around closing. He didn't even know what time it was. Hell, he didn't even know how he'd gotten there. He must have blacked out and gone on autopilot, his subconscious deciding this was a safe place. It was easier to believe than that he'd just wished himself there. He'd wanted to get away. Away from the nuns who were trying to save him or kill him, he wasn't sure which. Away from all of Lyon's and Rutledge's fucking mercenaries, or whatever they were. Away from all the people he'd killed, but his mind instinctively shied away from that.

He was half-naked and covered in blood, none of it his. There had been wounds. He distinctly remembered thorns cutting into him in that pit that grave, but his flesh was whole and unbroken now. His teeth were starting to chatter, less from cold than from fear. "I--I'm having a little trouble d-denying right now," he admitted. "I'm sorry I-- didn't mean to come here. I should…" He trailed off, having no idea what he should do. Go home, pack a bag, and flee the country, maybe. It was sounding more and more tempting. The bartender was right. Denial was a good option. As long as he ran, he could pretend this wasn't fucking happening.

[crownedinsin-arc-deactivated202]

"No-one saw you." Not that it mattered if they had. Perks of Satan being your dad, he could make things go away if he really needed to. However, Lucifer was still trying to figure out how to handle the whole situation, so the less he had to do the better. "Here -" He slid his jacket from his shoulders, wrapping it around Damien. "Look at me." He came level with his son's gaze, holding it. "Everything will be fine."

It was a strange feeling. He'd never been paternal. Damien had been conceived because Lucifer had wanted to unleash chaos on the world in the form of direct opposition to Christ. Frankly, he'd never really viewed him as a 'son'. Hadn't spent time with him, had just sent emissaries to prod him in various directions while growing up. Lately, though, having spent time with him? It had fostered a gently paternal feeling that he was trying to get used to. He worried about him. "Come with me." He closed the door of the bar, ushering Damien towards his car. "My house isn't far. And on the way you can start telling me everything you remember."

[om3ned]

It wasn't clear whether he even heard him, caught in a loop of his own thoughts replaying the last twenty-four hours in vivid, horrifying detail. At the same time, he felt oddly detached from all of it, as though he'd watched it happening to someone else. He blinked at those oddly familiar eyes, swallowing as he felt the warmth of the jacket around his shoulders, nodding a little too quickly. Okay. Yes. Damien wanted to believe him, but more than that, he just needed someone else to be in charge right now.

He slid his arms into the sleeves, hugging the jacket around him, as much to cover the blood as for the warmth. It was oddly comforting though, a soft, normal contrast to the horror film his life had become. He followed him obediently to the car, relief seeping through him when he sank into the passenger seat. He felt less exposed, the car providing a layer of distance between him and a world gone mad. "Thank you for this. I-- this is going to sound insane." He stared down at his hands, the layer of blood on them starting to dry and peel off in little flakes.

He drew a breath and launched into the story, describing his meeting with Sister Greta and how she'd seemed to have the answers, the trust he'd put in her only to find himself wrapped in thorns at the bottom of a grave. "I thought she was trying to get rid of it, but I think-- I think the opposite happened. It felt like she woke something up… something terrible that had always been there. I-- I stabbed her. I fucking killed a nun. That has to be like a direct ticket to hell, right?" He was babbling, losing the thread now that he'd forced himself to relive it. He didn't actually know if Greta was dead. Perhaps she could be saved, if the other nuns were quick enough. Perhaps this bartender, who was virtually just a kind stranger, would drive him straight to the police station now that he'd confessed to murder.