itsmejoy7:

socialmediapeasant:

sinistercoffin:

writing-prompt-s:

All demons have a vague sense of precognition, so they only take children as payment from people who would become horrible parents.

I was raised in the Demon Orphanage.

You look skeptical. And who wouldn’t be? ‘Tis a rare thing to hear, but it’s true.

I know that sounds bad but really, demons are outstanding caretakers. They don’t need sleep or rest. There’s few beings more patient. Infernal magic is eminently useful. My education was continuous and organic. I didn’t so much attend class as I was simply around beings of incredible intelligence and knowledge who taught us as naturally as we breathed.

You wonder if I stayed all my childhood in the orphanage. I didn’t. But some do stay.

I was personally adopted by an archduke of Hell whose specialty was astrophysics. My mother taught ethical philosophy to other demons. My second father was a polymath and inventor. My boyfriend during my teenage years was raised by an astronomer and a tactician.

You seem to think Hell must be a terrible place for a child. Poorly informed as you are by the Roman Catholic Church and it’s many, often wildly ignorant, offshoots.

Hell is orderly and safe. The souls of the damned are endless and their punishment must be efficient. Those who have not earned punishments must not be punished, and are safer there than any other place in the universe. The darkest, most remote wilderness of Hell is safer for me than in the most heavily guarded fortress or vault in the mortal realm.

So why am I here in the mortal realm? Well, I must admit my second father’s curiosity is quite infectious. I wanted to travel and experience other realms. Those who stay in Hell too long eventually become demons themselves, and many do choose that path, but I didn’t. And Earth seemed a fine place to start. Of course, I had to support myself, so I took a commissions job that pays quite nicely. 

You shrug, limited curiosity sated. And put bloody pen to parchment. I was also raised in the old traditions.

I promise you won’t regret this.

My eyes are, perhaps, a bit too bright. There are, maybe, too many teeth in my smile. You shrug these impressions off as illusions. I’m a mortal, like you.

Oooooooooooo I like this one

I love stories like this!