satan @whatroughbeast-blog1 - Tumblr Blog

babylon; (motherofabominations)

There was usually a sense of comfort in Satan’s company; his own depravity never judged hers and in return neither did she judge him, but tonight there was no comfort to be found. In fact, though they may have been wearing matching costumes, Babylon had never felt further away from the former king of Hell. “It seems not everything can be won with glitter and six inch heels. But had I known you were still sporting that around-” She paused to give him a purposeful nod, clearly pointing out his lack of two good eyes.”I’d have opted to dress you as a pirate instead.”

It felt like she’d spent an eternity of simultaneously wishing he’d question her motivations for contacting him out of the blue and hoping that he’d ignore it entirely and just indulge her for the night, but for better or worse it seemed she was finally put out of her misery. Or had the real misery just begun? “After waiting weeks for you to congratulate me on the promotion I finally realized I’d have to be the one to make the first move. Even my girls tell me they’ve been missing you lately, they’re worried you found someplace else to spend your time and money.“

“And what, exactly, am I congratulating you on?” Satan returned over the music, the flashing lights glinting coldly off of his glasses, voice hard and clear despite the low bass pulsing from the speakers on either side of them. “Listening comprehension or recitation?” It rankled on him that he should be so off put by disloyalty from her of all beings -- perhaps once Babylon had looked at him the way all creatures did: with fear and reverence, and she felt it never having even witnessed how terrible he had been before his fall. She was Lucifer’s creature with Lucifer’s bleeding heart. And yet, she had done exactly what Satan would have done in her shoes.

"Of course, that Prince you dethroned is now leading the campaign to end the world as we know it,” Satan stole a vividly colored drink from a passing waiter’s tray, grimacing at the sickly-sweetness and tossing the plastic flute aside to fall to the already-sticky floor and crack under the feet of milling crowd. “Hollow victory tastes like shit, doesn’t it?”

#event: danse macabre #ft. babylon #alright i'm joining camp 'gifs ain't shit'#tumblr fix yourself

righthandprince-blog

glass animals / leviathan + satan

whatroughbeast-blog1

leviathan; (righthandprince)

“… I don’t know,” Leviathan answered, and it was honest. Friendship seemed farfetched; anything approaching it impossible. And yet, here she was. Trying. But trying what? “Conversation?” She cocked her head to the side, intention an open book, if only he cared to read: she had no plan, here, no ulterior motive.. no fucking idea of how to interact with him in a way that wasn’t somehow antagonistic or spiteful at its core.

“I don’t know how to talk to you,” she said, because there was no point in lying, “but if the world ends, I might as well have tried it.” Oh, they’d talked, certainly. Hissed and spat and fought; neglected words entirely. But a normal conversation, one that didn’t end in a fight, or unfinished business; the kind she could have with anyone else? She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had one, if indeed it had ever happened.

Her brows furrowed as she thought about it. “… What do you.. like, besides– gore and knives?”

Satan didn’t like this tone of honesty; his distrust was as blatant as Leviathan’s strange lack of guile, his lip curling into a default sneer, “What do I like?” the demon repeated back, disbelieving.

What was she attempting? There was no obvious motive behind this, not that he could see, but that didn’t make the conversation any more comfortable. It happened -- his eye darted down to her finger, found the white gleam of the reminder still there, and looked back with his suspicion even more firmly in place. She stared back, nothing of his rigidity mirrored in her gaze. Leviathan’s question hung insistently in the air and Satan looked forward again, shaking his head almost to himself at the absurdity of it. A thousand sharp rebuttals battled at the back of his mind. A long moment passed before he finally spoke again, stilted and matter-of-fact.

“Half a year ago, my blade was rearranging Lucifer’s abdomen. Why the hell am I supposed to believe you’d be interested in my hobbies?”

Would he even have anything to say if he’d chosen to answer genuinely?

#event: danse macabre #ft. leviathan

righthandprince-blog

glass animals / leviathan + satan

whatroughbeast-blog1

leviathan; (righthandprince)

She thought often of the past, these days.

It seemed less pessimistic than thinking of the future; its twisting path a mystery – no, she liked thinking of what had been. The smog-filled alleys of London; the smell of rum and salt in the ramshackle streets of Nassau. The nostalgia of it was on her mind as she came across Satan, no doubt dressed in a costume either Renee or Babylon had made him wear – considering the latter’s costume, she knew who she’d hedge her bets on.

Her last conversation with Renee had left her with a flurry of things to consider; things she hadn’t wanted to think about, not in detail, despite knowing she ought to. As much as the past filled her with fondness, it carried spite, too, bitter and wrong like the rind of rotten fruit.

He’s nothing more than a throneless tyrant, Leliel whispered from the back of her mind, and she felt the Prince in her respond, but what could he become?

It was a snippet of a century-long conversation; one that always repeated itself, ran into the same wall, met the same defeat. It depended on the time, on her mood, on how poorly their last interaction had gone. (At best, they were always volatile – her ruined dresses, his shredded coats.)

But tonight, she felt.. hopeful. It wasn’t the right word, not entirely, but it was the closest she could get. Optimistic? Maybe it was all a fool’s errand, considering the state of the world, but at least it gave her something short-term to focus on.

“Hell, you might just be the best damn boy in Texas,” she quoted, in lieu of a hello. “I thought tonight might be a reprise of 1893, but I suppose that costume might be a little harder to recognize.” And it wouldn’t really be a costume, would it? It had been him, after all.

This time when Leviathan found him outside a party, he had no mask to take off.

Satan looked back blankly at her quip, no understanding to be found in his gaze until her last mention -- 1893, Chicago, another hotel, not so different. The easy memories of those bloody days tugged at him at her invocation, familiar and tempting. “You would be one of the few who would,” Satan muttered.

Leviathan’s costume was another blank. He didn’t look away; he looked through her to the party instead. His eye did not drift, inexorably, to the finger bearing her ring.

Less than a year ago, less than even a month, just the sight of Lucifer’s demon would’ve been enough to send Satan into an immediate rage. But, recognizing her feline features as she grew closer, he felt only dull resignation this time, like a heavy stone on his chest. This was every divine interaction now: another’s initiation, his own preemptive bracing for the blow yet to come.

He would not flinch. But pain wouldn’t find it easy to surprise him anymore.

The last time she had found him, Satan had greeted her with a flash of teeth and the cherry of his cigar burning in the dark, both his pale eyes shining at the fallen angel who had been, for once, taken off guard at his mirth.

“What do you want?” There was no point in wordplay.

#event: danse macabre #ft. leviathan

babylon; (motherofabominations)

She’d arrived fully expecting the shoe to drop at any moment and for everyone in attendance to suddenly find themselves at the mercy of the Horsemen; the victims of yet another sick and twisted game of theirs. But even after not one but two glasses of something obnoxiously dubbed a Morgue-a-rita she had yet to see anything out of the norm. It wasn’t that she was complaining about the lack of Belial ruining her night with his new band of apocalypse inducing buddies, but well… She was bordering on excruciatingly bored.

As if on cue, familiar blonde locks entered her peripheral and she turned to meet Satan head on. “You came. And you’re wearing the costume. You better have-” She paused before reaching out a hand to touch the inside of his jacket, lightly snapping the suspenders and flashing him a smile. “You did. I’m impressed.”

@whatroughbeast

Subdued, still wary, the elder demon faced Babylon with little more by way of reaction than a tight-lipped grimace and a brief, analytical stare. “So I did.” The costume was just that: a costume, and the pride her playful gesture might have rankled on before seemed somehow misplaced. “You surprised me with subtlety.” His eye narrowed a fraction behind his glasses, inspecting her as best he could in the flashing light, but the exercise felt flat and Satan’s gaze dropped a second later.

The party around them crackled with enough nervous energy to leave him feeling tired from the moment of arrival. News about the grails, yes, Satan would rally for that, but he didn’t have enough left for questions of context, of trust. Let her have her glib comments. “You surprised me with that text to begin with.”

#event: danse macabre #ft. Babylon #everytime there's a smiling babs gif a demon gets their wings

belial; (prayhavoc)

Belial’s head snapped to the side, more for the effect than any actual reaction from the demon’s fist. Satan was strong, but Belial was stronger, and he’d been feeding off of Satan from the moment their eyes had met. Satan was practically a walking, talking buffet to the Horseman, and it could be easy to simply drain him dry, but Belial much preferred taking it slow. Dragging it out, pulling out the most delectable range of emotions from the demon until it culminated in one final blow. Licking the blood from his lips, Belial’s grin had turned garish, reddened from the broken nose and split lip bleeding all over his bright new shirt. But like with anything revolving around the Horseman he found the whole situation delightful and wiped off some of the blood with his sleeve, “I must admit, despite your lack of depth perception, your aim was spot on.”

The Horseman’s grin gleamed white and vivid red, cool and triumphant, regardless (or because of) Satan’s gritted teeth and heaving chest, anger still smoldering even as he knew it would do nothing for him. He expected retaliation for the blow, but it wouldn’t come. War obviously didn’t need to hurt him to get what he wanted. It was frustrating enough to want to hit him again, but Satan pulled his eye away from the smear of scarlet over Belial’s mouth, turning his face to the ocean and glaring out at the water. No more -- Renee’s voice echoed as firm and reasonable in his imagination as it had been in that dusty warehouse unfathomable lifetimes ago. “This is the last time I talk to you,” Satan said to the waves, “The next time you try, you get nothing, and nothing every other time you try again.”

#event: carnival #ft. belial

grace; (starofgrace)

“Well, you’ll be surprised what people sell on eBay,” Grace argued. It was only a matter of time before she left something of hers at the hotel and suddenly, the item found its way onto the internet for an auction. Prized possession of Grace Lowery. She frowned, thinking about that scenario … and by his unnecessary flick of the cigarette into the fishing pond.

Of course, she had found a rather good hiding place. No one would dare cross Satan … not without good reason, that is. And with his grim warning, the starlet didn’t want to think about how he managed the entire hotel ( even if she had complaints of her own regarding her stay ).

“I’m sure the paparazzi remain cautious. Wouldn’t want any trouble.” Or death.

The game was oddly calming despite who she played against. Her fishing line had been dropped into the water and now, Grace merely waited for it to latch onto something. The prizes probably weren’t anything to brag about, but at least she’d walk away with that ring still on her hand.

“Do I really look like I need to be selling your knicknacks on --” Satan frowned, brow furrowing, giving an impatient tug to his line, “eBay?”

The line tugged back.

Satan’s hook had stuck in the rubbery palm of a long-dead and bloated hand, the rest of the pale arm following as the demon dragged it from the pool (the murky color of which suddenly made much more sense). The demon’s nostrils flared as the smell hit them both: thick, dark decay, and the sensory memory of Jairus’ blood flooded his mouth.

Nothing ever easy. The gore was hardly an issue, though this was not speaking for the actress looking a wee bit more perturbed over Satan’s shoulder as he gazed down impassively at the the arm dripping onto the concrete. Was this one punchline of Famine’s joke, capitalizing on Pestilence’s success, using it to unsettle? Grace’s pole twitching in her hand, Satan glimpsing it just out of the corner of his eye, curiosity and grim certainty tugging at him in unison.

“I think you’ve got a bite.”

#event: carnival #ft. grace #gore cw #may... be?#better safe

Text || Babylon + Satan

Babylon: Ignoring my warning about the slap doesn't mean it's not coming.

Babylon: How do you feel about a pirate? You don't seem to mind wearing an eye patch.

Satan: You have a lot to learn about encouragement.

Satan: Predictable.

#&. texts #ft. babylon

Challenge 30: Danse Macabre

Clyde Barrow; ft. @motherofabominations as Bonnie Parker

Every killer, thief, and cheat knows not to rely on one another, but there’s a strange fragile trust between criminals, isn’t there? These two haven’t quite reached the status of the original ride or die pair, they’ll have to cut the shit on the petty squabbling first -- but at least this time, they’ll come dressed to be guilty on arrival.

#chvrchesrp #chvrchpoint #event: danse macabre #ft. babylon #the suspenders are an absolute necessity #also please note the bangin blonde wig babylon will be sporting #this film is forreal iconic fashion

Text || Babylon + Satan

Babylon: I tried not to dignify that with a response but fair enough. If it's any consolation I don't plan on letting anyone hurt you before I have the chance to smack you first.

Babylon: Someone's very observant. We could meet up and talk about potential costumes. Or I could just pick something up and surprise you.

Satan: You choose. As long as the costume doesn't come from your girls at Paradise.

#&. texts #ft. babylon #suitably chastised

Text || Babylon + Satan

Babylon: Don't tell me you're scared to see where round two takes us?

Babylon: The masses will be waving crucifixes at you either way. At least if i'm there you can use me as a shield.

Satan: Do you think I would trust you with my safety.

[three minute interval]

Satan: It's a costume event.

#&. texts #ft. babylon

Text || Babylon + Satan

Babylon: Excuse me?

Satan: Considering what happened last time we went to a party together.

#&. texts #ft. babylon

Text || Babylon + Satan

Babylon: I don't want you to think that I miss your

estúpido face or anything because I DON'T, but... I was wondering if you'd accompany me to the Halloween Party.

Babylon: The Saints always look ridiculously good at these things and you may be a dick but at least you're a hot one.

Satan: Ask nicely

#&. texts #ft. babylon #the tact? the subtlety?

whatroughbeast-blog1

[AU] - angels

whatroughbeast-blog1

belial; (prayhavoc)

Belial’s smile softened around the edges as Satan himself found it within himself to relax. It was so rare, their meetings, and even rarer to have a Satan so willing to forget everything around him for the time being. Belial enjoyed these times the most, and pressed a hand to the center of the angels chest to push him fully down on the bed, “If you really wish to hear about this story, you’re going to need to lie down.” Chuckling softly, he arranged the angel’s limbs until he could fit against him, the bed filled with linens and straw not nearly large enough for the two larger than life creatures, but they made due. “Because I’m fairly certain if I don’t hold you down, you’ll go back there and show the gentleman just how fearsome you are.”

Shifting he tilted his head so he could look at Satan’s face, not bothering to stifle the urge to trace the familiar features with his fingers, “She was nothing more than a scullery maid to them. At age five. I never would’ve noticed her if she hadn’t been running away from her father one morning, and stumbled into my legs. The smallest hands clutched my pants, and you know how I am with the small ones. I couldn’t stop myself from lifting her into my arms, this little ash covered child, and a moment later he’d come barreling out after her. When he saw me, his derision immediately turned from the child to myself, which was good, because she deserved a reprieve. One thing led to another, he attempted to steal her back from me at sword point, I reminded him how terrible of an idea that would be, he attacked, and lost.” Belial didn’t really want to re-hash how he’d won that sudden duel, how his instincts always kicked in for him and he’d severed the man’s hand from his body without a second thought. Thankfully the child had missed the blood, but the man’s screams of pain would live with the pair of them for some time. “He will not touch another child, and she is safe. As it should be.”

For such an imposing form, Satan went down without a hint of protest, waiting just long enough for Belial to finish fussing with him to pull the other up against his chest. This would be the easiest of Belial’s whims to give into. The tangle of limbs, Satan’s wings curled to drape over the both, warm skin and white feathers and the sun streaming in the window above Belial’s narrow bed -- it all came together, ebbing and flowing through their bond, the sensation strange and precious at once. An indulgence, an unsafe one, but one he would not give up.

"As it should be.” Satan repeated with a little snort, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. What Belial did was unarguably justice, at least on the surface. Aiding the young and vulnerable the way the fallen angel did should have only been a natural act of their kind, was mercy not what they were intended to embody? Far from it, Satan mused, or at least, angels were only so on church walls. “One day you’ll pluck up a perfectly safe ward based on circumstantial evidence.” It was so easy to default to something like scolding, but a slight note of humor crept into Satan’s voice, a side effect of the sheer contentment radiating from his ligatus. "Does it really take me coming down from heaven just to keep you from stealing children?”

#[ au week ]#au: ligatus!belial #au: angel!satan #ft. belial #as promised :*