Curate, connect, and discover
The being was larger than most skyscrapers. Its teeth usually were soaking red with blood but were currently dry, showing the yellowing of the fangs underneath. The lack of blood may at first seem calming to the unknowing but all residents of hell knew this meant it was looking for something, or perhaps more accurately, someone to re-wet its teeth. The large lizard-like eyes decorating its head were looking back and forth for any sign of something that drips red when pricked. Soon it saw a small humanoid shape coming towards its domain. It contorted its body getting ready to pounce, before realizing the being it was so excited to gauge was none other than head honcho of hell, Lucifer Paradiso. As Lucifer came closer the thing’s disappointment turned to fear as the king of the damned's details became clearer. While Lucifer was usually someone to not be afraid of with his calm, charming, and honestly sometimes a little pathetic demeanor, today was clearly different. His thick eye-brows were lowered, his arms swung violently by his side, and every step he took left a little crater. Even worse than that was his outfit and the object grasped tightly in his hand. He was wearing a suit, he never wore a suit, and was holding a bouquet of once nice looking flowers that were all wilting now. The only thing scarier than the hulking beast with bloody teeth was the same beast but with yellowed teeth. The only thing scarier than that was a pissed off Lucifer and the only thing scarier than that is a pissed off Lucifer after a bad date. The thing quickly dashed out of the way even though he was still a good two miles away. Lucifer finally got home not 10 minutes later. The man was definitely quick for all his flaws.
He angrily opened the door, slammed it shut, and fell on the couch sobbing. Faust could hear the whining from his quarters but pretended he didn't hear it. For the first decade working the soul contract for Lucifer, Faust couldn’t help but feel bad for his master, that was long ago now. Lucifer’s cries nowadays dug up more anger from his heart than compassion. This was the third date this month that ended poorly. Faust wished he could tell Lucifer maybe there was a reason for his consistent failing but he knew that it was best to bite his forked tongue. “FAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUSSSSST.” the voice of hell rang out through the house. Well no more avoiding it Faust thought. When he arrived at the living room he could hear Lucifer mumbling to himself in between sobs. The strong gruff voice no longer felt as authoritative as it was most hours of the day, yet it still felt like he had a level of charm in its sadness which weirdly annoyed Faust quite a lot. Faust could smell expensive wine on his master’s breath as well as blood but that wasn’t unusual for dates in the underworld. “Faaauuusst, bring me the emergency stuff.” by emergency stuff he meant the cookie dough ice cream stuffed in the freezer. Many found his little substitute words cute, for Faust it drove him insane. The only thing that gave Faust joy in this infernal job is apparently God was also annoyed by little things like that and ripped into Lucifer often. Though apparently the other angels defended Lucifer from these attacks, Faust took what he needed in short time. 21.2 seconds from living room to kitchen, new record Faust thought to himself. He handed over the tub and a spoon. He didn’t even bother to get a bowl knowing it was a fruitless offer. In the time it took for him to get the ice cream Lucifer had managed to turn on one of his comfort movies. It was one of hallmark fame. Lucifer both liked to quietly make fun of the film while also clearly becoming deeply invested in the love story. In the early years Faust found the movies slightly annoying if not charming in its own little way. Now in these years he found them unbearable. If he could scream through them he would but that would just get him in trouble. Lucifer was cuddling in a large, fluffy, glowing white blanket decorated with red pentagram stars that seemed to drip and move as the damned king cuddled into himself. Within the little blanket hole he was holding a little three-headed dog plush. Some days Faust wanted to burn that dog, actually scratch that, most days Faust wanted to burn that dog. Faust handed him the ice cream. He grabbed it quickly and tightened the blanket around him. Faust tried to leave, walking in long quick strokes, but before he could leave the gruff voice spoke sadly. “Faust, if you weren’t bound to me through your soul contract, would you leave?” Faust thought the answer of “God, no” would be the first to shoot to his head, but it took him a second of pondering to think of any answer at all. “No, sir. Now enjoy your movie and please sober up.” Faust quickly exited himself from the situation before slowly walking to his room and quietly closing the door.
“FAUST, bring me my cologne” Faust was sick and tired of working all day but obliged nonetheless. Johann G. Faust was used to being a servant for Lucifer, but today was extra demanding. The fallen angel apparently had a date tonight and was taking it very seriously. “OH MY, UNDER MY CHIN HOW DID I FORGET TO SHAVE UNDER MY CHIN. FAUST, BRING ME MY RAZOR!” Many found his gravely New Yorkin accent charming, but to Faust, it had become extraordinarily grading on his ears. Like a ringing chirp of broken alarm clock that formed a polycule with nails and a chalkboard. “FAUST!! Oh, there you are.” He took the cologne and razor from Faust with not as much as a look or nod of gratitude. His usual Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts were replaced with an abyssal black suit jacket and dress pants that made his usual blazing red skin pop. He had a glowing white button up, that was borrowed from Michael, under his jacket topped with a black tie that itself was decorated with a blue flame pattern at the bottom. “Faust go get some horn cream from the hallways closet… please.” Faust thought that if he put this much effort into the monthly meeting, God might respect him more, but he kept that thought to himself. As Lucifer was applying the cream to his tiny coned horns, Faust noticed that his hair didn’t seem to be as thin as it usually was; he must have used some sort of magic instead of his usual comb over technique. Lucifer started to use an eyebrow pencil to fill in his pencil ‘stache before looking at Faust halfway through. He chuckled awkwardly at his soul-bound companion “Too much?” “You'll look good either way, sir. It’s up to your personal taste.” Faust talked in his usual quiet reserved manner; the only remnants of his once German accent was the fact he still pronounced his w’s as v’s. Lucifer finished his mustache filling and for the finishing touch put on some mascara and eye-shadow. As Faust waited at the door watching his master leave, he couldn’t help but notice how the king of hell and punisher of the damned had his spaded tail wagging in excitement.
The man was tall now that he was standing straight. Under his chin was filled with stubble, looks like he forgot to shave under there. He had a pencil mustache above his lips. His grin showed teeth a blinding white unusual for his unkempt demeanor. He had a comb over, hiding his quickly fading hair, two devil horns sprouted from his head matching his blood red skin. He wore a black and white Hawaiian shirt with a couple unbuttoned buttons on the top and bottom to give room to his prominent gut. His cargo pants allowed people to see his hairy legs covered in bruises and scabs in the process of healing. He looked like he was going for Gomez Addams, a mafia boss, and retired cop all at once. “Elizabeth, good to see you. Can your uncle give you a hug?” His accent was one of a gruff New Yorkin, that noticeably sounded like he was holding back tears. “Of course.” She opened up her arms and wrapped them around his abdomen including his large and squishy stomach. He wasn’t really her uncle but Lucifer Paradiso was referred to as uncle by all undead creatures. “Hey, have you seen your dad around? I need to talk to him.” His mouth smiled, his eyes did not. “Oh, I um.. No I haven't… sorry…. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you need to see him?” His face showed the aura of grimness behind his fake grin, it always did. “Oh, you know the big G upstairs…” he cleared his throat as he often did before one of his moments. “He told me not to call him that by the way, HA, can you ‘magine. Like sorry for trying to commit divine regicide about a trillion years ago, like I said sorry. Can’t even use a cute little name like ‘big G’” Eli knew rambling was the next stage before the meltdown. Now he just needed to mention Jesus and he would let go of his thin faux mood. “I mean JC never treats me like that. He is very forgiving. Why can’t it be like father like son, am I right….?” 1, 2, 3 “God, Eli” He placed his face in his palms. Tears didn’t leave his eyes but his gruff voice was weak in its affliction. “The reason I need to see your dad is because I’m kind of in debt with mister, God almighty.” His voice was in a mocking tone when he said “God almighty” but his heart clearly wasn’t in it. “Apparently I haven’t been getting enough souls of late. I miss the days of Faust where someone wouldn’t question too hard about selling their eternal soul for limited mortal power and riches. Now everyone is always like ‘why would I give you something infinite for something that lasts only a lifetime.’ Like shut up and just give me your soul, I’m in severe debt and need it more than you.” He kept rambling till Eli’s dad returned to find a sobbing Lucifer Paradiso on his couch with his 16 year old daughter comforting him like a therapist.