Some Scribbles

You haven’t talked to him in a while, but you respond honestly. You’re not a barbarian. The brothers aren’t constant presences, are little more than voices you hear through a phone that connect to past memories.

“But when were you going to mention how much you missed me?”

Makes sense to make no sense in his next action. The Devildom isn’t a place where sane people go willingly. And Solomon, the human representative—oh who’re you kidding, he’s barely human, of course he can yeet you back to the realm of demons—

Can’t do the separate one with the demon brothers because I ran out of time

Then I realized with crushing despair that I posted very little content to introduce my protagonist to the world. Can’t churn out god-tier art like everyone else and explaining each relationship feels like a crapload of exposition that few will be interested in reading—can y’all even see the colours lol

Anyways I can’t just hurl a call of Spaghetti without context. So here, context:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194083/chapters/58275952

Hopefully this changes thoughts from “Why should I care about this human?” to “Why is this person a piece of shit?” and have Spaghetti Hands live rent-free in your minds for a few days :’)

Thank you and good night <3

Beelzebub can’t help but wonder, in his worst moments, that it should’ve been him. He should’ve died, riddled with arrows and cast from heaven, not his beloved little sister whose sin was love. His brothers would say that’s not true, but then again, they’d have to say that, won’t they?

The nights stretch long and the tears don’t stop. He will never forget her despair until his dying day, and he will never return to the Celestial Realm, back to a cruel Father who punishes His children who loved His creations.

Solomon doesn’t think having an average human in the Devildom’s exchange program is a splendid idea. But since his opinion wasn’t consulted, he amuses himself by dissecting this novel decision. Who are you that Lord Diavolo selected out of the applications, bypassing even Solomon’s handpicked list of notable witches and sorcerers? What do you possess that will foster better relations between species that have long existed as enemies?

Or this could be some sick version of bear-baiting. If the prince of demons really abducted a defenseless human being to be hunted down for sport… worse has happened to humans, Solomon knows. But to do it so openly under the guise of diplomacy is a sin he cannot abide. So he will watch. He will wait.

Indeed, you’re an ordinary child, complete with borrowed uniform, loose tie, looking as lost as a lamb. He pities you for being able to do nothing against the demon students. They watch you with an almost expectant intensity. Like wolves chasing a deer, waiting for the animal to tire out before lunging in for the kill.

He has his classes too, so it’s not until the third day that things become interesting.

Solomon knows Mammon is in charge of protecting you. Solomon also knows that Mammon does not enjoy babysitting even for money. So when the great demon leaves you unguarded, it doesn’t take long for several of the bolder demons to close on in.

By the time Solomon arrives, the demons have already left, cackling to themselves. They wouldn’t steal your soul right in the open, but apparently harassment and childish bullying are acceptable. You’re squatting on the floor, reaching for your scattered belongings.

“Hey, you there.”

You ignore him, reaching for the nearest book. It’s already creased. The way your knuckles freeze means you heard him loud and clear, though.

“Yes, I’m talking to you, the human with that frightened, tormented look on your face that demons love so much.”

So you look up.

“What’s it to you, demon?” you snap. “Then why don’t you finish what those spineless cowards couldn’t?”

Interesting. You have spirit, but you’ll need more than that to survive here.

“This D.D.D. here belongs to you, right? I saw you drop it just now.” He holds it out. “And I’m an exchange student from the human world, just like you.”

You glance at his hand, scowl some more, then release it with a sigh. “I don’t believe you,” you say as you take back your device, “but sure. No point making more enemies than I can handle.”

He laughs at that as he piles back the rest of the books and miscellaneous items. “Rough day?”

“Bet.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Can’t even carry a weapon to defend myself. Lucifer wouldn’t even let me take the kitchen knife.”

He laughs again, even when you smack his arm in annoyance. “I can think of a better weapon than that.”

“Yes, a shame the Devildom is low on machine guns. Might have to ask Lord Diavolo to start handing those around. That’ll go great.”

When he can finally talk with a straight face, he hands over your stuff. “I mean the brothers. You live with them, correct?”

“So?”

“You can get closer to them, enough to see what it takes to bind them to submission. A pact with an avatar is both a shield and weapon you can use, even without magic.” Consider this a reward for amusing him.

He waits for you to snipe at him again. So that’s how you look when you’re not lashing in anger or clouded with suspicion. You mull over this, and the spell of calm breaks with the next bell.

“I have to go,” he waves towards his next classroom. “Take care of yourself now. And think on what I’ve told you.”

You nod, a half-smile tugging one corner of your mouth. “Take care that you don’t end up having to pact with me.”

How I wanted to face Belphegor after the little stunt he performed that is still a point of contention among the fandom to this day (or so I hear, because I draw and write in isolation for the most part aside from my beta-reader) because he laughed as he killed and was fully prepared to do it again when Lilith hurled us back. Really, the human who helped his brothers and soothed each of their emotional baggage meant nothing to him until he learned that they were the life his sister had given. Then he immediately embraced the protagonist like they were a long-lost gift from his sister and not someone who was either making the best of their situation or just someone who was a lot more decent than he deserved and I—

—am getting off topic. Anyways, this is how I imagine my protagonist giving him an earful because his reaction post-revelation and closure of that lesson was ridiculous.