#no comfort

Some stuff to note before reading: 

- This mini-fiction is a work of fan literature. There is no connection to the Canon story line. There is also no MC in this fiction earlier. So please don’t comment about MC not being there. 

- This fiction will bring up the concepts of Lack of Self-Care, Terminal/Critical Illnesses  (Made up ones, but still) , Family Drama and Angst, and other smaller things that commonly may make people feel at least a little uncomfortable. 

- I am not always the best at depicting a character’s personality. I get told that a lot. If you do not like how I have depitcted one of the brothers, feel free to let me know- but don’t be salty about it.

- Share your thoughts. I like seeing them. This is only a request, though. 

“Tell yourself that you are okay, and yet the words are only carrying you on by a thread. You dance a line between life and death everyday- the silence is too loud and yet you endure it.”

“…”

“No one will see you- no one will hear you- and upon the last step- you will be consumed by my cold, welcoming hands. I promise you will be safe.. I will take care of you. Return to death- sweet child. I will always be waiting.”

-

Waking up in a cold sweat had not been something new to Mammon. He had often found himself shaking to awareness with droplets of melted ice on his brow- the discomfort of his twisting stomach, and clammy skin. It was a norm- and one he wish he had not come to be familiar to.

The white haired demon rought a shaking hand, glossing it over his saturated forehead. This only rallied a grunt of disapproval from the man upon the feeling of dampness. 

Breathing, and sitting up was a struggle. He turned over to his side, attempting to balance his wavering stomach’s fight in defiance. 

Tired eyes blinked away what little light peered in through his curtains. The darkness of the space he occupied was unfamiliar, for most of his time here in the Devildom, until the last couple of months. The shade was overwhelming at first- but it since then had become a blessing in disguise. 

It was easy to contemplate the meaning of his own presence down in this hellscape. He had found himself running back and forth trying to establish a way of life. Trying to find a use, a purpose.

Tired eyes found themselves drooping as he remembered the many times he had tried and failed. Maybe even the times he had tried and failed- desperate and stubborn. His stubbornness was both a blessing, and a curse. Perhaps it was just mockery; he knew well that it was probably the only reason he had survived for so long. 

A buzzing was starting to overtake his head- throbbing in both of his temples as odd colors rippled across the darkness that consumed his vision. It was nearly mesmerizing. Enchanting, even. 

Many a day and night was spent hiding in his room, without the concern of his brothers, or the care of others he could have considered friends and family. 

The only serenity he could find was his dreams. The feeling of floating in a comfortable abyss- and just forgetting about everything else. He enjoyed it sincerely, it helped him feel not as alone. It helped him feel free. 

Conscious thought and constant gripes with himself. Pools and pools of self doubt and anger. Loathing and regret- it all blurred together and made a murky mess. 

Mammon tried to remember why he was here all alone, in his pain, and confusion. Reminding himself that he was the one that shut his own siblings out in the first place. It wasn’t all that hard- really- all he needed to do was anger them enough and they did the other half of the work. 

The Demon of Greed was sure that they were all at RAD, at the time being. He had been scraping himself by for so long, doing his work for RAD from his own computer. He may have been getting bad scores- but that was nothing that Lucifer would be concerned about. 

Avoiding meetings, and getting away with not being present for important events was surprisingly easy. More than likely this was because they were simply glad that he was not stealing anything from them. 

Resigned, and in pain, the demon of greed leans back, before feeling his head getting heavier. He thought back to the events that had transpired, the day everything went downhill. 

As per usual, Mammon had been committing himself to his actions of scamming, and getting himself into problems he could not get out of. Though, at the time, he had gotten his brothers into the same mess- and that lead to an obvious explanation of annoyance or anger. 

During these thoughts, another flood of pain started to pummel the Avatar of Greed, forcing him to curl his legs closer to his body as he clasped at his eyes in an futule attempt to get the upcoming headache to subside. 

Due to all the physical stress, he didn’t have the energy to move more, to try and get medication, or go to the bathroom. He started to recall the long stent of time he had spent crawling himself from the foot of his bed to the trash-can or the bathroom. Too determined to keep it from his siblings that he would not dare ask for help. 

It wasn’t worth it. He might as well let them have their peace, right? What was one more, or one lesss in a world such as this one? Mammon was a mere grain of sand. he didn’t have value on his own. He would always need help from others. 

He felt his breath, and heart slowing down, calm. The ringing in his ears was getting lower and lower- and the humming of one of his favorite tunes started to play somewhere deep within his mind. 

Closing hie eyes, the avatar of greed let himself try to feel at peace- he allowed himself to rest, and drop the weight of struggles and self doubt, even in a time such as this. Because- in the end- he would be his own judge, jury, and executioner. 

He was the cause behind this illness, tearing him apart from the inside out. He allowed himself to remain this way, because of that fact. 

This was going to be the way that he had died, wasn’t it?

Alone? Still in severe pain. Questioning his actions and settling with what he was given- because he couldn’t do anything else at this point.

Closing his eyes, the white haired demon felt his body temperature rising again, it burned, but he was too tired to respond to it. He simply took in a couple deep breathes, and exhaled-

A harsh heartbeat lurched forward in his chest. Slow, and purposeful. Powerful, if he really considered it. 

He didn’t take in another breath. He tried, and felt like he had- but no air entered his burning lungs. 

A second attempt, third and fourth- nothing changed. He couldn’t bring anymore air into his body, no matter how much he pitifully beckoned for the remembrance to draw air into hhis aching system. In sight of this, he was still calm. He wasn’t afraid- somehow. 

His consciousness eventually faded, and his body fell limp, the need or want to struggle finishing abandoning his form. The silence grew even more eerie, and the light recessed back from the window- giving the comfort of obscurity to one of life’s many victims. 

Nobody was there to see him. No one would have heard him, or been there to try and talk to him. It was all silence. 

Perhaps it was better this way.

For everone.

He can finally rest, and and hopefully be at peace with himself- if he ignored his own neglegence. He can be free. 

-

A burst of colors flooded his vision, and Mammon sat up with a start- surprised by his sudden strength. He looks around where he had woken up- barely processing what was in front of himself for a good minute. 

After calming his nerves he reobserved the area, and took note of the flower-beds of soft, golden dahlia flowers under his form- as well as everywhere else within the general location. a firm tug at his abdomen from cloth made him look down- 

It appeared that he was dressed in formal black and yellow attire- elegant and fit for someone of his personal taste. 

The area around him was truly stunning. If sight was something that could generate treasure, this would be a trove. Serene- and isolated. Glimmering flowers crawl up marbled pillars as twinkling stars glimmer in an endless sea that was far beyong the reach of any sailor. 

An ambiance of trickling water, and the sound of chiming bells was in the wake, birds let out soft calls from the trees and the glow of golden candles made everything feel so warm and welcoming. Almost like a hug. 

It seemed his astonishment could only last so long. Glancing to his left, mammon spotted a figure in a suit, devoid of skin, and muscles- the form resembled a skeleton. 

“May I have this dance?” the figure asked, extending out a white-gloved hand with confidence. The movement was slow, and questioning, though it seemed that it was not afraid of the answer. 

The white haired avatar of greed nearly couldn’t help himself. He looked down at the hand- a feeling of comfort, and even happiness rung throughout his system- convinvincing his hand to move forward. 

The Avatar of Greed didn’t need to say anything. He didn’t need to be afraid. He just existed. He simply felt at peace. he grabbed the hand of the fine-dressed skeleton, and was pulled to his feet gently. Spun into a gentle waltz, he danced with the charmingly macabre figure- without a care in the world. 

“Come and dance with me. Accompany me in a Waltz among the Golden Dahlia Flowers.”

Obey Me Mammon Angst Skits: Angstober 2021 Edition

Day 2 (Late): Delusions

Warnings!

• Delusions are usually linked or associated with Mental Disorders, or other sensitive topics that can often/usually get intentionally/unintentionally misrepresented in media. 
• I am warning everyone reading that I am not too familiar with the concept of experiencing, or prolonged research behind the causes of, behind, or surrounding stuff that surrounds ‘delusions’. 
• I did a little research before I actually started writing.I am not saying that it makes my information correct. However, I am saying that I did try to look into it, because I know stuf flike this can be a sensitive topic sometimes. 
• The specific kind of ‘delusion’ or ‘category’ of the delusion spectrum I am going to be writing with is the ‘Somatic Delusions’.
• From what I gathered on the internet, ‘Somatic Delusions’ are usually ones that have to do with perception on appearance, or a means of personal perceptions of things to do with one-self in one way or another. 
• ‘’A somatic delusion is a false belief that a person’s internal or external bodily functions are abnormal. This belief may also extend to viewing one’s physical appearance as very irregular.’’ - This bolded statement is one I copied and pasted from the internet as a reference. and the following bullet below will be a copied reference of ‘examples’ of said delusion type. 
  
• ‘’Common somatic delusions are that the person is infested by insects or parasites, that he or she is emitting a foul odor, that parts of the body are not functioning, or that certain parts of the body are misshapen and ugly even in the absence of objective evidence.’’
  
• -
• Lastly, of course, there will be mentions of depression, and what can be considered emotional abuse from Mammon’s siblings. If you do not want to read this, and understand, feel free to continue. If not- please don’t. 
• I don’t want to upset anyone, and if I accidentally represent this ‘delusion’ in a way that is extremely harmful to the community that may suffer from some of these things- don’t hesitate to let me know. 
• I will apologize in advance. 
• -
• Thank you for understanding and have a safe read. 

Mammon stood in the bathroom, looking at his reflection. 

It was him…

Himself. 

He had been getting more and more anxious as years went on. He knew he was. However, he wouldn’t ask for help, as he would likely be denied what he needed anyhow. 

The white haired man brought his hands up to his hair, and his eyes. He hated them. 

He brought his trembling fingers through his slightly knotted hair, unable to find peace, even in sleep. His own looks haunted him sometimes. He just looked so… wrong. Why couldn’t he look more… like his broters?  Why did he have to look so different? 

He then started to feel his own skin- shivering… one of the biggest things that made him look different. His tan. He didn’t look like he resembled them at all.. 

He once read on the internet, that sometimes, those that people are close to- will often gravitate toward those that they are more familiar with. They look for comfort in familiarity. They look for kindness in common-ground. Mammon was quite different in comparison to his siblings for many reasons. 

They all had their differences, but… somehow… he was still the ugly duckling. 

That was because his stupid body was just… wrong. 

It had been wrong from the start… and yet… he had only started to realize it in recent years. His white hair… all of his brothers had either dark hair.. or some kind of color within it… the only one who had a bit of white was Belphegor… 

His eyes… he always got comments about how these stupid eyes of his looked angelic… how they looked unnatrual, for a demon to possess. They didn’t look the way they should. They were insufficient. 

Mocking him every single time he looked at himself.

He hated it. 

He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, and look away, most days…

Then, his skin. 

The biggest organ in connection to the body. One of the other many things he just cannot hide. 

Mammon grit his teeth in frustration. The anger had been building up for a long, long time. He couldn’t take it. The frustrated demon of Greed balled up his fists, and he shook his head. He felt so gross. He felt so unnatural, looking at his reflection. 

That wasn’t really HIM. It didn’t deserve to be. It didn’t need to be. 

The demon of greed soon punched the mirror in the bathroom, yelling out in frustration as his negative emotions lead to his outburst. The man continued to shout obscenities at himself, punching the ground, far past the point where his knuckles bled. 

His brothers wouldn’t hear him… it would be a while before they got home. 

Mammon had been sent home because of a freakout at RAD, and his items were confiscated by Lucifer on his way out the door Though, it wasn’t the black haired man he was frustrated with right now. It was himself. 

He did everything wrong, and it wasn’t hard to realize that. 

Maybe if he could just change himself. Make himself feel better about everything that his genes denied him, he could finally start to improve himself as an indevidual. Maybe changing himself, would finally be a solution to his internal aching, and constant contemplations. 

Finally finding an idea, Mammon scrambled to his feet, before going to run around the house. 

He was going to steal. He was good for nothing for it… maybe… just maybe… this would be the last time…?

He found deep red hair dye, a set of gray contacts, and some special foundation, that would make his tan at least lighter… hopefully..

An hour of preperations, and changing later- and Mammon looked in the mirror in the hallway- since he had broken the mirror in his own bathroom.

He stared at himself. 

Him. 

The new him…

Deep brown hair, and dark gray eyes. Lighter skin, and a beauty mark or two… 

Mammon smiled at himself, before feeling a tightness in his chest. 

Did he finally do it?! Did he finally fix his problems? All of the mistakes that his genetics had made him? Was he finally going to be better? Or maybe feel better about himself?

“I… I…” he started to say to himself, before bringing his hands to his face.The smile was genuine… only for a couple seconds. 

No. 

This new look. 

This new style…

It was him..

No matter what he did… it was still him. 

It wasn’t natural. 

It didn’t fit. 

Because.. no matter what he did…. he couldn’t shed his own skin. His own abdnormailies and flaws. He couldn’t cover up what his genetics had given him forever.. his own natural appearance was going to always haunt him… it was showing through the disguise he put in. 

The stupid white hair… and those ugly gold and blue eyes…

His dumbass tan, and stupid fucking messy mop…

No matter what he did, he would be flawed. 

He was always going to be an eyesore. 

In frustration, Mammon pulled at his hair again, before also punching the hallway mirror, and in the end… it all had been worth nothing. 

The avatar of greed covered his face, and started to cry, his emotions building up in his chest. He would never be able to make himself tolerable… if not perfect. 

He was always going to be himself…

and….

that was the problem. 

He was Mammon. 

He WAS the abdnormailty…

All of his flaws her HIS. 

HE stared back at HIMSELF. 

because that… is the one thing… that he can’t change with some die, makeup, and a pair of contacts….

He would forever be a flaw. 

He would forever be burdened. 

He would burden others. 

Eventually- he gave up. He just leans against the rail of the stairs, covering his eyes, and refusing to look to the shards of glass on the floor nearby, because the only thing he would see staring back at him, was the very thing he didn’t want to see. 

He rested, and let his tormented thoughts trample him.

As a GingerBrave fan, I feel bad for the kid. He doesn’t know what he does wrong. If he were sentient, aware of him being fictional, and ‘players’ hating him a lot- letting him get beat up, and whatever else- he woul dbe really confused. 

The poor boy just wants to be a brave cookie- he probably doesn’t even want to be someone’s favorite- he just doesn’t deserve to be pummeled or isolated from the rest of cookie society- RIP. </3

This was a little AU idea I had. GingerBrave, if he is ever used for battle, is usually put at the very FRONT of the battle lines- (Namely on TikTok, at least) 

So I decided to take this idea, and make it sad. 

GingerBrave is holding up the front lines- trying to make sure to absorb as much damage as possible- or distract all of the enemies to the best of his ability, so there is less of a chance for his friends to br hurt 

However, this time, he doesn’t come out with just cracks, or minor bits of crumbling. 

His own CandyCane is taken, and plunged into his own noggin- somehow not killing him instantly- and he can feel it the entire time he is conscious.

Because of the sudden trauma, he can’t remeber what happened immediately after the deed is done-

To add more salt to the wound, getting the candycane plunged into his head was only HALF intentional. It was originally aimed at his shoulder.

grosskinks-anonymous:

I’ve always found myself not into belly rubs. Idk why, it’s never quite appealed to me.

Maybe it’s the sadist in me, wanting to watch someone tense their whole body only to be met with nothing. I pity them, but not enough to help them as they huff and puff and whimper.

Even better is if the reason they can’t get that fart out is that there’s a solid log in the way. They push and push, believing they may finally get this fart out, and then they completely fill their pants with waste. Bonus points if they just let out that trapped fart in their soiled pants.