i like the devil [A Gods!AU Skephalo Fanfic]

[Chapter 1: Mother Laid Her Elbows on the Bed]

Skeppy didn't understand his super-religious mother. She was strict and he must follow her rules to a T. She prayed multiple times a day: during meals, before going out, and most of all—before she slept. As a child, he'd watch from the crack of the door—seeing his mother kneeling at the side of her bed, elbows pressed into the sheets and her hands clasped together.

He'd hear her whispers, facing towards the threads of her bed, but never could he decipher them. Then she'd get up, leave to wash her face and hands, before crawling into bed. Then, Skeppy would sneak into his own room and curl up—wishing upon the glittering stars. Back then, he wished for something silly.

When he was older, he scratched at his skin for what felt like weeks. He remembers his mother pleading in her prayers for mercy on him. Soon later, he spotted something sparkly on his cheek:

A single crystal, just barely noticeable in the mirror.

When his mother found out, she raised hell. He went to the local church of their settlement every day and aside from that and school—he was at home to help his mother. He had to do prayers. So many prayers to whomever the fuck they were praying to.

He'd help her knead bread, watching her long and bony fingers work at the dough—barely breaking a sweat and her dark brows furrowed. They'd work on the house together.

Sometimes, he was allowed to get to his room—his safe haven. At the crack of the door, he watches as his mother butchers a rabbit for dinner—and hears her quiet sobs as she cleans her fingers of blood.

Nowadays, He wished for freedom.

Freedom from what exactly? He wasn't sure himself, but he wanted to get away from the settlement he had lived in his whole life. Away from his weeping and super-religious mother, away from the growing gems that speckled his skin.

What was life outside of this unnamed place? He wondered.

There was the Dream SMP—he couldn't help but find it odd that the biggest city was named after the world— and there were things beyond the horizon too.

Needless to say. His teen years were spent being a rebellious kid: sneaking out, messing around with the other inhabitants, laughing as they fell for his traps or pranks.

It was the taste of freedom he so desired.

But everything came at a price. That was what his mother always told him.

And the lifestyle he chose came with the price of his worried and angry mother, and the two would fight with each other. He couldn't help but resent her for isolating him since the gleaming gems appeared on his face. He couldn't help but resent her endless prayers and devotion to religion. He couldn't help but resent the fact that he still wondered why.

Her prayers were nothing like the everyday prayers for a good day. They were hushed, urgent, pleading--what he sometimes thought were apologies slipping from her lips.

But what was she sorry for?

...

They got into a big, nasty fight.

He had been caught while setting up another prank and taken straight to his mother. She apologized profusely—swearing on the name of the creator god, Prime, to do whatever she can to make up for his behavior. The people were content, shoving him roughly before making their leave.

He knows that she will be working herself to the wretched bone for a while.

She turns to him, a deep flare of anger in her golden-brown eyes. Part of him stiffens but he holds his ground.