welcome to the first edition of; i made a mistake. im in too deep.
this motley crew are the devil’s rejects. they’re the Rebel Compound’s guards, a group off to the side that do their own thing. Second ran into Asmodeus in a time of need and they have a pretty symbiotic working relationship.
Rejects protect the base, Second lets them live there. They generally don’t bother anybody else in the base… usually.
uhh.. ig… brief descriptions of them below the cut? i dunno what else to say lol. I had fun designing them all… ill give them outfits eventually. maybe. if you wanna draw them, they all go well in basic shirts and jeans lol. it’s an unspoken uniform.
luciph was originally designed by leon! i did some tweaks… but credit to him for the base design!
Asmodeus Darkfoot; Their founder, essentially. He’s passive and rarely seen, usually hiding in the shadows or watching baseball. He probably won’t pay you any attention unless you have a kismesis or matesprit.
He won’t hesitate to crush your skull between his fingers if you’re caught crossing the boundaries of the Compound. Thought… he’d much rather see your head come off.
Behemoth Casanova; Their brutal strongman, also known as Beh. He is usually seen flirting with whoever is unfortunate enough to get too close to him, but it doesn’t take too much effort to tell him to back off. He’s pretty easygoing and not nearly as violent as most indigos his age.
In fact… he’s a little coy.
Satana Pentai; Well. He’s a barbie girl. In a not barbie world. You won’t hear a peep from him. He’s not mute, he just doesn’t like to talk. All the crew knows about him is he’s wanted by the empire for literally unspeakable crimes. His head is worth potentially billions of caegers. He is the Devil’s Rejects priceless gemstone.
Cursed by Asmodeus, coming close to Satana will induce nausea. Skin to skin contact will result in dizziness, fatigue and vomiting. Unless you have a very close bond with him. But… that’ll never happen.
You might likely only ever see him on the other end of a rifle, flirting with your man or whispering things to Belial.
Belial Cringe; Yes that is her name. She’s 7 feet tall and wears platforms taller than your dick is long. She’s as flat as a board and has the voice of someone whose smoked cigarettes from the womb to the tomb.
She loves to sniff. She knows what’s in your perfume. She knows what caste you are.
No one knows how this incredibly abrasive woman managed to befriend Satana. Perhaps it’s because she does all the talking for him…
Luciph Eiyrre; Pronounced Lucifer, yes, I can make a 2 letter syllable 6 whole letters. He was late adopted into the crew after they joked about bailing this weird little half and half kid from jail. He turned out to be a fairly reliable gunman and manages very well to keep the rat (Beelze) occupied.
Beelze ‘Bub’ Bubbie; Their son, their rat, their little roach. Everyone has kicked him in the ribs at some point. Nobody hates him more than Luciph.
This hyperactive little insect attracts flies no matter how hard you scrub him. If you even think about upsetting him, he might bestow a gift of insects upon you.
You’ll most commonly find him growling and grumbling like a chihuahua in a fight.
Part i. | Part ii.
Words: 1,276
Time: 45m
Rating: PG, probably some swearing, probably not. It’s sfw.
google docs version
Part trois mmm mostly just peeking into how the rejects interact w each other now that Satana has... ‘joined’...
---
It was going to be to nobody’s surprise that the new guy was asleep under Asmodeus’ arm that day. Beelze hardly slept, as usual. Belial and Behemoth were even cuddling beneath that giant, fluffy blanket of theirs. Bel’s tiny frame disappeared beneath it. Had it not been for her brightly coloured hair splayed out all over the place, Beelze might have actually had to look for her.
Prior to falling asleep, Beh, Bel and Bub had spent the evening cleaning up, drinking, messing around and generally winding down. Of course, they all knew Asmodeus too well. They know what they were doing with that albino. Hospitable gestures aside, that man almost always wanted one thing.
It’s not like any of them were disappointed, surprised or even mad. They were more upset that none of them had time to make any bets or wagers on how long it would take.
That pinkblood seemed so reserved. They didn’t even speak more than a few words at a time. They didn’t thank anyone for the food, Deus for the clothes, Behemoth for the shelter… they mostly just stared at Belial or looked dotingly up at Asmodeus when he spoke.
Belial could tell, all evening, that look was as fake as a Barbie doll. Maybe that’s why they kept looking at her. Because they knew she could tell. They had this look in their eyes. Knowing. Complacent. Belial could sense no danger… but she felt unease in her gut.
Being exhausted after the night’s events, she asked Beelze to keep an eye on them. So he did.
As far as Beelze was concerned, the albino was no danger. Whether or not this judgement meant anything to anybody was pretty irrelevant, considering his questionable mental state. No one was quite sure if he was all there. Behemoth always joked about Beelze being part chihuahua, but sometimes… the crew didn’t doubt it.
Still, he stayed up, obedient to Belial’s request. He didn’t like to disrespect her, though he was conscious of the actual importance of the task. Somewhere, somehow, Beelze understood. There was no arguing, no silly jokes, no pranks… he sat up, and he watched.
So the suns set and Belial was first to rise. Her damaged hair, frizzing out in all sorts of directions, lazily pulled back into a semi-organised ponytail while she scanned the tent for her clothing.
“Ugh, Jesus Pissing Christ… where the hell are my clothes, Bee? Oi, Bub, c’mon…” Her raspy voice even more so upon waking up was enough to stir Behemoth.
“Hey, shut up, a man is trying to sleep.” He grunted, rolling over and shoving her out of that warm, warm blanket.
Beelze tossed her a hoodie, holding up a finger to his lips. Bel tilted her head in response, looking at who he was trying to shield from noise.
Deus and the albino. Disgustingly snuggled together. Love? No way. But that was some real affection Bel had never seen from him before. Did the albino tell him something? The possibilities of conversation nagged at her brain, eyes widening as this sight shook her awake faster than her morning coffee.
“All night?” She whispered, crawling to sit next to her favourite little maggot.
Beelze nodded, hugging his knees to his chest. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Deus. This tent was suddenly an alternate universe, Bel decided. Bel and Beelze being quiet? Asmodeus showing affection, not waking up first, and Behemoth shoving Bel off his mattress?
“Do you think he has psionics, babe?” Keeping her voice hushed, she leaned against Bub tentatively. Despite this weird behaviour… Bel felt so content.
“Yeah… he didn’t take off the cuff thingies… looks kinda uncomfy.” Beelze leaned back against Bel, snaking an arm around her waist for a little cuddle. Together, they sat and watched for a little bit. Mostly wordlessly; Beelze asking her how she slept and Bel responding shortly. She was almost afraid to wake up the two newfound lovebirds.
“Hey, Bub, let’s go make breakfast for the boys, ok?” Bel whispered, giving the lime a small, friendly kiss on the cheek. He flushed lightly, nodding in compliance and getting up after her. They both knew the smell of eggs and fresh steaks from the evening before would lure the boys out of the tent.
---
“So, what name were you moanin’ last night, Deus?” Beh nodded his chin towards the other indigoblood, mouth full of food that had been graciously prepared for them. Bel always knew how to make breakfast an enjoyable time of night, especially considering how none of them were morning people.
Asmodeus chuckled once, his whole body flinching slightly as he did so. “Not my job to introduce him.” He retorted, looking down at the albino who was only poking at his food.
“It’s not poison. Just eat it.”
Rather than responding, the albino looked up at everybody else. This was the first time he had visually acknowledged Beelze and the lime looked away, flustered. Perhaps he just wasn’t ready for that sudden attention from someone so elusive.
‘For someone so abrasive, it wasn’t hard to make him blush…’ He thought.
“You can call me Satana. No I’m not a girl.” His voice was as soft as gold. Easy to listen to and turned heads on the first syllable. Even Beelze looked back at him.
“I’ll say it before Asmodeus does. My head is worth a lot of money to the empire. If you turn me in, I will make sure you never feel at ease again. No, we are not dating.”
Deus flinched at the last statement, blinking, his head shaking irritably as he turned to look at Satana.
“Excuse me, I don’t think you need to disclose tha-”
“And what, inevitably answer them anyway? Keep them guessing? What’s the point?”
Deus shut his mouth, tightening his lips for a moment before returning to his food. “Alright, fair point. Go on.”
With a gentle sigh, Satana rolled his eyes and pointed his gaze at Behemoth, who seemed taken aback at this.
“And you. Don’t hit on me. I know who you are. I’ve seen your interviews and magazines.”
With that, Behemoth erupted with great laughter and tears started to form in his eyes, looking at Belial with the most ecstatic face anyone had ever seen from him.
“Y’hear?! He’s seen my mags!” As if Satana didn’t actually give him a rule to follow, he decided to leech on to the part he could brag about. Typical. Bel laughed, pointing her finger at his nose.
“Okay, but you hear also? No hitting on the twink!”
They clowned around, bantering as they faded from conversation. Bel and Beh. If anyone didn’t know them, they’d think they were moirails or even matesprits. But such was the life of a Devil’s Reject. They were just close to each other. Even Asmodeus was poking in on the fun, as was Beelze, even if neither of them were particularly involved in how this banter began.
For the first time in over a hundred sweeps, Satana was amongst people. He could reach out, he could touch, he could interact, he could run… he had company.
Not unlike prison, he still felt so, so alone.
How was someone like him going to stand this behaviour? This was almost juvenile to him.
He frowned, exhaling from his nose and standing. No one noticed.
“Going for a swim.” He murmured, which only caught the attention of Deus.
“Stay safe!” He laughed, Behemoth’s head under his arm in a headlock.
“I’m not your fucking friend.” He whispered, disappearing back in the direction he and Asmodeus had returned from only hours earlier.
Best read when having listened to Baseball by Major Parkinson. Not only is the song itself really wonderful, but the first verse of the drabble are lyrics.
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Words: 1,042
Time: <30m
Rating: PG, swearing
Just a fun project I may or may not actually delve deep into. Mostly just doing these while I can't sleep, do they're pretty rough around the edges. I did little to no editing sorry lol.
---
"And then… and then I really hit him over the head! It flew right off! Like-- haha! Like a BASEBALL!"
Laughter akin to a pack of hyenas echoed through the shallow forest here. Four trolls around a fire, having just settled down for dinner with the open air filling their lungs. How could any of them be in a bad mood?
With Asmodeus retelling their nights events giddily, the three of his closest and only friends were hanging on the edge of their seats.
"Like BASEBALL?!" A wretched, grating voice piped up, though none of them seemed to flinch. Beelze. Little Bub. Oh, their dearest little man, just like a son. The grimeblood – affectionately dubbed – was leaning forward the closest. The baseball was his favourite part!
Asmodeus really knew how to rope them in. He had learned some grand storytelling tricks from spending sweeps in the circus. He never really shook off that energy. It clung to him, exuding from his sweat… light in the scent of the air.
Belial, especially, having such an acute sense of smell. She inhaled this electrifying energy with every motion of Asmodeus' hands and body. Her grin was plastered to her face, pink teeth emitting the softest glow against her sharp cheeks.
"Like baseball!" Asmodeus exclaimed, slapping his knee, the perfect sound ringing in their ears.
"And you came back from the DEAD?" Beelze leaned forward, both his eyes wide now. Only Asmodeus had that effect… he almost looked like a normal guy.
"You were waiting in anticipation, right?!" Asmodeus responded, though his gaze swept over all of them, settling on Behemoth.
The other man, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest, a warm, wide grin on his face. Not unlike the others, he was in a wonderful mood.
"Yeah. Circus, bread and Buckie Harris on the television…" He continued… was this rehearsed?
"Oh! I love this one!" Belial exclaimed, the first to jump to her feet with a loud clap of her hands before her chest. She spun on her toes, mimicking an umbrella over her shoulder.
"Ducks on the pond, Mrs. Truman with a black umbrella!"
"And a crack of the bat… comes the main attraction…" Asmodeus grins, leaning forward closer to Beelze with eyes widened in anticipation.
"Ayn Rand, Peter Pan and the GHOST OF TULLY SPARKS!" The lime almost screams in response, trembling like a small feral dog out of pure excitement.
Behemoth continued, sitting forward now with his hands on his knees. "Deadpan, hidden hand… the pose of Karl Marx!"
Belial laughs at his sudden enthusiasm with his participation, quickly pointing at Asmodeus as she took the next line.
"Brass band plays a Star spangled banner in REVERSE!"
Asmodeus stood almost on cue, towering over the crew and winding up a shot with his invisible baseball bat. He draws up, hands close to his shoulders as he sings; "Batter up!"
Their favourite part. Asmodeus struck that ball.
"IT'S BASEBALL!" Unified in lyricism and laughter. In joy, in delinquency, in family… their voices were so genuine. Their cackles and snorts. Even Beelze's screeching when scooped up by Asmodeus came from a place of enthusiasm. Any of them would dare you to show them a purer form of love and familiarity.
Their babbling and antics wouldn't cease for a while. It's not like they had to worry about predators. Asmodeus was bigger than most bears in this shallow forest. The flames licked the air and affectionately kept them warm, though their roughhousing eventually brought on an undesirable feeling of sweat and fatigue.
This, of course, didn’t stop them. Especially Beelze, who saw no issue in trying to wrestle and writhe his way free from Asmodeus’ strong arms. Their laughter, laced with yelling and whining, was not unseen.
Amidst their noise, even Belial failed to notice a new presence. Perhaps the stench of Beelze and the cooked food surrounded by two ancestors was keeping her too occupied. Had she not been trying to wrestle Beelze from Asmodeus, she might have seen him. Behemoth was too busy watching in amusement, arms crossed again as he let fatigue start to creep up behind his eyes.
As silently as the Grand Asmodeus Darkfoot, the man famous for travelling in shadows without so much as a huff, a smaller troll sat on the log. Right beside Deus' spot. It even took the crew a moment before they noticed, even if this troll was so blaringly obvious against the dark backdrop of the forest.
They sat there, their eyes fixed on the fire, hands planted firmly on their knees. They were cold, but weren't shivering in the slightest.
None of the crew flinched. None of them said anything. They just returned to their spots, closest to their weapons, and stared. No one would dare act first if they weren't Darkfoot.
Asmodeus sat down again, his leg almost touching this stranger. He had no weapon to reach for. He had his fists. But this troll was only around 6 foot. He was, at first glance, hardly a threat. While this silence lasted, Deus surveyed this new company wordlessly.
Silence was absent. The crackling of the fire reminded them all that this was reality. It took a moment. But Belial was first.
"I smell jade, purple, teal and violet." Her voice was not as loud as it usually was. Perhaps she was concentrating… because there was a colour she had never identified before. A colour… or mutancy.
Asmodeus raised his hand cautiously though with little hesitation, moving some of the troll's hair to get a better look. Just as those pale eyes shifted to meet Belial's.
White hair. White eyebrows. Pale skin… had Asmodeus not moved that, none of them would have guessed.
This troll was more than drenched in blood. It looked like he had just emerged from a vat of it.
Those doe like lips… Asmodeus saw them once. An Albino arrested. Plead guilty to nineteen counts of treason, amongst other details he couldn't care to remember.
"Prison?"
Those eyes. Ringed, like the rim of a moonlit pool. Encapsulating. Gripping. They shifted again, along with his head, though only because they would have strained too much otherwise.
Time: 40m
Rating: PG, swearing, mild suggestive shit at the end. Nothing much.
Part two UHHHHHHHH idk not much to say lol... have fun... questions are....welcome.
---
They made eye contact. They maintained that for what felt like a sweep. There was noise, but Asmodeus be damned if he reserved even a crumb of attention to it. It sounded drowned out. It almost felt like he was in another realm. The only way Asmodeus knew it wasn't was Beelze's impatience interrupting their silence, the noise becoming clear as the Indigoblood managed to tear his gaze from them with an almost panicked breath.
"HELLO?! ALTERNIA TO ASMODEUS? I SAID, what the HELL is going ON?!" Beelze whinged, standing up now with his arms arched comically by his sides. Attempting to make himself appear bigger around the crew was futile, but Beelze had the confidence to attempt anyway. It was… adorable.
Looking back at this albino, Asmodeus exhaled shortly from his nose.
"One moment." Standing, he brushed his pants from clinging splinters of wood and made his way to their tent. For such a massive troll, he disappeared with ease inside, the crew's eyes watching like they were waiting for their lusus to disappear before misbehaving.
Only when they lost sight did they turn back to the stranger.
Behemoth was first to pipe up.
"So. What's the deal here? You clearly killed… a few trolls, give or take. You could try here, but we promise your attempts will be futile. For your own sake, I hope it was in self defence." He was pointing at the albino, but they weren't looking at him. Everyone was unsure if they were even listening. Their eyes were fixed on Belial.
"Hey! Are you listening?" Behemoth stood, occupying Asmodeus' spot and grabbing their face to turn it towards him.
"I'm talkin' to you."
"...I have no intentions." They responded, a cool and calm tone in their voice. They hardly seemed worried, pulling their face from Beh's grip and looking back at Belial. Was something so interesting about her?
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her hands free of the weapon she had previously been holding. She didn't speak. They just stared. Both Beelze and Behemoth had never seen Belial keep her mouth shut for so long. Did this guy have psionics?
Beh was about to speak up again when Asmodeus returned, as silently as ever, something under his arm. In the dark, no one could really tell, but Bel assumed clothing. Everybody's eyes were fixed on the hand Deus was holding out to the albino, though they didn't take it. They only stood, fixing that not-quite-uncomfortable eye contact with him again.
"The bank isn't far. You can clean up there."
Asmodeus led the way and the remaining three were left to their own devices.
Beelze groaned.
"Deus wants it."
---
"So. Nameless, huh? With how young and… short you are. I wouldn't have guessed you with an ancestor title already." Asmodeus teased, guiding this troll to a nearby bank. He didn't mind the smell of blood, but he knew Belial couldn't stand it for too long. Being alone with them was just a bonus.
"You watched my trial."
"I did."
Then, silence. The pinkblood didn't speak. Asmodeus knew the type… he would be asking all the questions. He knew this troll didn't give two fucks about getting to know anybody here. He knew they just wanted shelter, food… and probably protection.
"We're the Devil's Rejects. I know what you want. Otherwise you would have walked past us." Asmodeus' voice dropped a little, almost like he was trying to keep their conversation secret, never mind that they were already alone.
"You had a life sentence for each count of treason alone." He was jogging his memory as they walked, the sound of running water gradually growing closer. Asmodeus was in no hurry. He couldn't assume with the other trolls demeanour that they were, either.
"The empirical court was kind enough to spare your life. If you'd call it that. And here you are… roaming free. What's the reward?" He stopped, the albino doing the same. The bank was probably deep enough to cover them up to their chest, but Asmodeus was, to put it lightly, a giant. He was at least eight and a half foot tall…
'His height is irrelevant. You're cleaning up. Not him.' The albino mentally scolded themselves and looked up at him, unsurprised as he was taking off his shirt.
"A waive of all need for currency."
"Lifetime of riches?"
"Tactically avoided giving anyone money. My head is just worth enough for one troll to never have to spend again."
"You're pretty confident we won't turn you in."
They stared. That was what it was. It was boredom. Asmodeus felt a tug in his chest. They were bored.
"You're a wanted man too, Darkfoot. Consider this a symbiotic relationship."
"It's only symbiotic if you bring something to the table."
"...you watched my trial. You know what I can bring to the table."
Asmodeus laughed, stepping closer and allowing his hands to start pulling at the hem of their shirt. Worn down… ragged, torn… this blood. He realised. It was both.
Self defence and desire to kill.
The Indigoblood couldn't blame them. Escaping from Kayuga Prison must have been a bloodbath. Being locked up for hundreds of sweeps must have also harboured a desire to shed more.
They lifted their arms without protest and beneath was pale skin, gently stained with all colours of the hemospectrum. They didn't break eye contact. Asmodeus knew it would be an insult.
"I don't have a name, Asmodeus." They murmured, gently placing their hand upon his stomach.
That touch was agonisingly intimate. Darkfoot was not a man of love. Not… usually.
The albino begun to trace lower, lower… lower. Until their fingers met the stitching of pants. Asmodeus watched. He listened. The atmosphere was open. Anything goes.
The smell of fresh water was not enough to bring Deus back to reality. This touch was everything to him. Enthralling was merely an understatement. He was obsessed. And he knew they knew it.
"Satana…" He whispered, moving his hand from the blood crusted hair to cradle their cheek.
"...yes?" Half lidded eyes brimming with intent. Lips parted so slightly as if to silence their breathing. Asmodeus could hear his heartbeat roar in his ears.
It was deafening when he pushed a digit between those lips.
Were he a weaker man, he'd have passed out when they moved to gently suck his finger.
