#an apathetic bitch that does nothing

[a-polite-melody]

I’m trapped

I’m stuck here because I’m too shit to do anything about it myself

And the worst part is that I was out

For six months I was out

And since I had to go back in all anything has done is make it less and less possible that I’ll ever get out again

I should just fucking kill myself

[oglegoggle]

Just like… the first fight was when we were sitting in the tub together a couple days after his cat slashed my literal eyeball, and I told him outright that the cat is not allowed in my home again. His immediate response was to say “So you’re dumping me?” and I wasn’t at all trying to dump him I was trying to assert boundaries around the trauma I just endured and he left.

The second fight was after a few months of living apart but still dating when we were sitting in the tub together and he read my comments on a Tumblr post about ADHD folks being allergic to taking responsibility for their own actions. He asks me what sparked the comment and I told him that I found one of my most beloved dishes broken, hidden in the living room in a pile of his garbage he just left in my fuckin house and wouldn’t clean up and his reaction was to say he doesn’t remember breaking and hiding my dish (I don’t remember therefore it never happened legit being one of the biggest emotional triggers in my life and he knew this) He asked why I didn’t tell him about it if I’ve been feeling hurt by his behavior and I told him that I feel like confronting him about things when I feel hurt doesn’t change the nature of our relationship.

By that point he had scheduled us exactly one consult for couples counseling (after several months of asking over and over again for cc) and afterwards decided it would be a waste of time and money since I would be leaving anyway so I had just kinda accepted that we’re not trying to make the relationship work anymore we’re enjoying fuckin so why bother with arguing over emotional shit? He again left. Two days later I texted him apologizing for saying mean things about him on my blog, and he never did respond. Two days after that I realized I shouldn’t be apologizing for being hurt by his behavior and I’ve in fact done a hell of a lot of apologizing for being hurt by his behavior, a lot of taking financial responsibility for his fuckups, parenting him because he’s incapable of doing literally anything in the way of chores, and just enduring the stress of his filth and the seizures his dog gave me and the new heap of PTSD his cat gave me and I realized that I’m just going to be ground into dust by his selfishness and apathy towards the impact his actions have on others if I continue. I blocked him on everything.

I am certainly aware that I’m not always kind and gentle, and I do want to genuinely apologize for and fix my mistakes, espesh in regards to people I care about. But the truth of the matter is that I put work into fixing my mistakes and flaws. He did not. I was constantly walking on eggshells with him emotionally because every time I would go “Hey, this thing you do hurts me” the two plausible responses were “I’ve got (insert mental illness here) so tI’m not capable of doing better.” or “This is the end of us!” And well…. Yeah. That was the end of us. I would certainly have appreciated it if I could’ve maintained a friendship with him, but he’s honestly a real drain of a person and I’m better off without him. I still have that longing urge to text him and talk but I know that he’s bad for me. He’s said it himself, he’s not capable of doing better. And I deserve better.

[palmettoshenanigans]

also ALSO-

I know the old "AFTG is badly written" jokes but hold the FUCK on for one goddamn second

I have been writing for almost 20 years. I got my college degree in English and the only reason my specialization wasn't creative writing is because I had bad time management skills and missed my chance to do my final creative writing workshop. I'm autistic and Storycrafting and Wordsmithing are my special interests. I understand writing pretty well.

AFTG opened my fucking eyes to a blind spot of the utter craftsmanship of writing sticky characters that infect you with brain worms, and here it is:

The Conflict of Material and Form

AKA the Character Creation version of Nature versus Nurture

"This isn't who I truly am. This is who I've had to become, what I've had to fashion myself into to survive. The original me is buried in there somewhere, if only you knew how to look. If only you knew to look beyond the mask."

Easily exemplified with our fave lil guys-

Neil Abram Josten:

Material: smartass with a smart mouth, attitude problem, cares about people deeply, sharp tongue to cut a bitch with, kinda feral, a lil unhinged, oblivious idiot

Form: quiet and hidden, liar liar pants of fire, run rabbit run, docile and tame, hyper-vigilant and hyper-observant

Andrew Joseph Minyard:

Material: caring, protective, strong sense of justice, gentle even, cares deeply, give me sugar or give me death, yearning

Form: cold, apathetic, ruthless and unforgiving, allow me to introduce you to my knife, regret? don't know her, i want nothing nothing nothing

Why am I using 'material and form' instead of 'nature and nurture'? Because I am a subscriber to "Characters are not meant to be real people; they are mirages of real people meant to encapsulate a function or idea that serves the story". But use whatever terms click with your noggin.

This isn't about 'want vs need'. This isn't about 'lie believed and truth learned'. This is about Presentation and Basic Action - how would this character react here? Which part are they reacting from?

With Material vs. Form, one isn't the 'true' version and the other the 'false' version of the character. They are both true and real in their own right. The Secret Sauce is that the Material and the Form fight 1v1! And regardless of which part wins, there will be consequences and rewards; so which rewards do we want and which consequences are we willing to suffer? And this fight happens beat by beat, scene by scene, plot point by plot point.

At one point in TFC Neil laments his inability to shut his fucking mouth because his Form of 'don't stand out dipshit' and his Material of 'initiate smartass.exe' are disagreeing with how to respond to his circumstances! It's that fucking meme "My healed and unhealed versions of myself deciding who is going to handle this situation" but as Storycraft!

Now, I don't think this is a new idea by any means. But sometimes to make the essence of an idea truly stick, it must be presented in multiple different ways until one triggers a "Eureka! By Jove! Aha!", and this was the way that truly made this concept stick for me. And why did it stick? Because AFTG is a labor of deep love and passion for Characters and all their complexity and inner machinations, and that depth of devotion had to manifest as some good ass writing somehow my homies in christ.

I have a collection of my favorite Storycrafting Wisdoms and one of them is effectively:

"Put Compelling Characters into a Compelling Situation and see what happens."

And Nora does Compelling Characters beautifully

[bluespiritshonour]

Thinking about how popular Mai would've been if she were a boy. Like, can you imagine?people would've swooned over her like they swoon over, idk, Jet—it just occured to me that I like her because she's so unconventional for a female character.

Girls like Mai exist in real world—but women are rarely allowed to be complex and three dimensional and grey in fiction.

I would argue that Mai is a grey character; she did start out as Azula's lackey. And well, that's a fictional girl; I found her apathy stan-worthy.

I love that she constantly has a bitch face. She cracks dry/dark jokes. Wears black. Is mysterious and stoic. Does everything she can to disregard authority/even though she's not confrontational about it. (There's one difference. Bad boys are usually very confrontational).

All these characteristics exist in popular male characters. (Except for one thing that I've noticed: most of these “bad boy” characters are volatile and yet, are described as broody/stoic, like, dude. That ain't stoic, that's so emotional.)

So yeah. Coming back to Mai. Imagine if she were a boy.

A boy who's apathetic and has no passion for anything. A boy who's constantly bored/a thrill-seeker/has nothing he cares about. A boy who has a shutter for a face and rarely expresses himself, is amazing with knives and hand-to-hand combat and is gloomy.

There's nothing he cares about because caring gets people hurt and everyone wants something and is two-faced so it's safe to be a mask of indifference. Until—hold on—until he meets a passionate, hot-headed girl who's ✨ different ✨and if not anything, wears her heart on her sleeve/is an open book...

Yes, I'm talking about Zuko.

...and oh, oh, would you look at that? Now he has something to fight for!

I mean, for Mai, Zuko (after Ty Lee) is the only other person in front of whom she can be herself.

Reminds me of “he's only nice to her” trope. Sorry.

“You're so beautiful when you hate the world.”

“I don't hate you.”

Just imagine Mai as a boy. People would eat it up. They don't like her 'cause she's a girl.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You know how usually in abuse cycles there is the love bombing/honeymoon phase? Do you think Nightmare ever got Killer a pet during one of those? He shows up with a kitten and Killer's immediate thought is that that kitten is gonna die soon and maybe it'd be better to put it out of its misery himself instead of letting Nightmare get to it. (He won't be able to. Especially if he already knows Color, he'd probably just try to hand the kitten to him. Otherwise, he'd probably try to hide it).

Actually, do you think that, if Nightmare pulled something like that, he also promised he wouldn't do anything to the kitten this time? Promise he's changed? That he doesn't want to hurt Killer anymore? Do you think that, despite knowing they're all lies, Killer would try to convince himself that he means it this time?

Why are yall killing me with these asks man yall got a bitch moving like this (/pos)

I think Killer is more likely to fall for this in Stage 1, i think. My guy is desperate for any sense of safety or care 🙏. And the kitties make him happy and he just wants to feel okay, okay. Although it will not be easy at all—he is still as distrusting and paranoid as the other Stages. Just a lot more openly.

Stage 2..I can see him detaching so far from this situation even if it’s not obvious. He might play along to appease Nightmare, he’d play with and take care of the kitty, but he’ll remain so far removed.

Waiting for the inevitable—because it won’t change. Perhaps he will have the sense he’s being tested and watched, and may try to play the role he thinks he’s being assigned—but may try to maintain some control by refusing to allow vulnerability. He may think things like, ‘if it dies, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does. It was inevitable—what they want always is.’

He may even be able to convince himself he won’t be affected when the shoe inevitably drops and Nightmare stops playing the game and the kitten dies brutally. Especially if he has experienced similar situations with either Chara before, and/or because it’s things he and Chara used to do to play with Something New’s Underground victims.

To be honest, Killer probably always has a sense that he’s being tested when people in power do kind things for or to him. It’s just that if Stage 2 can’t find a way to manipulate the situation, he’ll take back control by refusing to care if it’s a test or not—he will go through the motions, allow them to do whatever. Which denies them the satisfaction.

He may even attempt to poke at, prod, provoke and test the limits of the supposed kindness even. Just to see if he can see where the lines are, or put an early stop to the game. (Although, if the kitten’s life and safety is on the line, he’d probably resort to the apathetic approach rather than risk it.)

{ @stellocchia }

[slut4sohee]

guilty — cbg

about. he gets caught cheating and wants you to forgive him. 500 words. warnings. beomgyu is toxic af; one use of pet name (baby); mention of sexual activity. ending kinda rushed.

ashamed is what beomgyu feels.

he got caught cheating on you and he felt terrible.

“baby, please, i was drunk, you know things have been hard, i just wanted to forget everything for one night and i ended up fucking up. please have it in your heart to forgive me.”

you remain stoic and unmoving, gaze down on the table in front of you.

“please y/n, i love you i would never do anything to purposefully hurt you,” he pleads to you.

beomgyu is hurt. 

he’s baring his soul out to you and you won't even look at him.

“please,” he moves to hold your hands in his but you pull back almost as if you're disgusted by him. 

he’s starting to feel pathetic, groveling to you like this. it's so... antagonizing having to stoop this low just so you would stay with him.

you're a fucking bitch for making him do this. 

and you still won't look at him, not even one glance. just look at him and feel his pain. fucking look at him.

"beomgyu." you finally look at him. your face is almost blank but the subtle scrunch of your nose, the slight furrow in your brows and the narrow of your eyes tell him you might be done with his bullshit. "you must think i’m stupid.”

still beomgyu wasn't expecting this. “what?” 

“do you think i'm stupid?” you speak slowly and clearly. “i won't forgive you.”

do you think you're better than him or something? anyone can cheat. even you so why are you doing this to him? why won't you forgive him? i mean he's only done this, like, three times, it's not like he cheats on you every waking second of the day. 

besides, he’d been stressed about things going on in his life, things that you know about. yet you sit there apathetic. 

“why not?”

you scoff, “you really have to ask why?”

“i said i was sorry,” does he have to get on his knees too?

“maybe, but you don’t show it.”

give him a break. “y/n, i'm grieving.”

you sigh, “i’m sorry you got laid off and my condolences for the loss of your great uncle but those are not excuses to have your dick in someone’s mouth. 5 different times, maybe more.” 

he grits his teeth, “grief manifests in different ways.”

“grief doesn't make you a cheater.”

cheater this, cheater that. shut. up. 

“fuck, just fucking get over it!” he snaps. 

"get over you cheating on me multiple times?"

"yes!, it's not my fault you don't put out. you don't care about me." maybe he can turn this around.

you stay silent for a beat longer. the air is thick. he is upset and you refuse to show emotions.

“you're like a child. you stop at nothing to get what you want and when you don't get it you throw a tantrum." you stand up to leave. "we're over, please get professional help." 

what the fuck. this isn't how it was supposed to go at all.

[katsukikitten]

Look I've just been obsessed with him okay. Probs hella out of character and I'm too shy to be the only one in his tag

"Zodel! Zo! Look what I brought!" Your cute excited voice echoes around the dingy hideout as your boss stands with his back to you looking over something 'important'. He's busy you know this but he's always fucking busy.

And he should never be too busy for you.

"I said look." Voice turning dangerous. Slowly his dark eyes glance over his shoulder. His handsome face ever neutral, cold even, as he blinks slowly.

Watches you toss a body at his feet gaining his attention enough that he turns around fully. Eyes sharp as he squats down with his hands dangling between his powerful thighs as he studies the cleaner's body for a moment before he stands back upright.

"I wanted him alive." Zodel's voice is even and smooth, a hint of disappointment, eyes flickering up from the scared face to you. If anyone else had brought this boy he would have cloaked himself in a half deadly shadow and collected another body for to feed the core. Instead he looks at you with his dead eyes and slowblink, "And the jinki?"

"I paused for dramatic effect." You giggle, bringing your hands from behind your back sharp claws wrapped around a small yarn winder. Dramatically changing it's shape to a large staff before slamming the base into the ground, "He called it Tokushin."

Zodel looks unpleased, apathetic but it does nothing to deter your little show and tell.

Slamming the base again for thick rope to reach out far and wide, sure to avoid netting your boss before you twist the staff roughly making a net filled with the other vandals.

"See like a spider." You giggle, it slides down his throat like honey, "And if you twist and twist and twist eventually it can dice them up!"

Smiling wide as Jabber, Noerde, and Bundus struggle in the tight strings.

"The more they struggle the more it hurts them. Isn't this such a great treasure?" You aren't asking Zodel, far from, you're too busy looking up at your latest victims in the jinki you looted from the dead janitor, having wanted it since you first laid your greedy eyes on it.

"You stupid bitch, wind it tighter so I can cum." Jabber shudders as he squirms, sharp claw pinned to his body awkwardly making it impossible to poison himself to make this little experience even better. The rope cuts into his skin and he groans too loudly.

"You should try to fight without all of these little tricks girl. Be a warrior." Noerde hisses, long hair wrapped around herself as tight as the rope unable to discharge a deadly shock without her comb that she tightly grips in her hands. All the while Bundus stays silent and unmoving waiting for your little demonstration to be over.

"Is this all you've brought me?" There's that damn bored even tone. It strikes a nerve that has your hand gripping around the pole tighter. The wood groaning in your grip before you wind the rope tightly until everyone is wrapped around the pole before launching it at Zodel. He doesn't move, doesn't even flinch when it lands right between his feet and through the previous owner's body.

"I don't see anybody fucking else with anything!" You growl, temper flaring because he doesn't appreciate the treasure you've brought him. The food for the core and your chest is heaving.

"Release them." Eyes darker now, voice rougher as he holds your defying gaze.

"No." You snarl, crossing your arms as you glare up at him. You weren't releasing those useless vandals, they weren't a raider like you! To be a raider you actually had to fucking bring home something.

Isn't that what boss wanted? Information? Bodies? Jinki?

He moves faster than you can blink, half of his body shrouded in shadow as he grabs at your jaw roughly. Black fingers digging into your soft cheeks as he comes closer to your face to make sure you'd hear him this time.

"Release. Them." It takes another moment of silence and his grip to begin to bruise your pretty face before you finally obey. The rope disappears and the jinki clatters onto the ground as a small wooden yarn winder once more.

He doesn't even need to give his command to Kutohni to warp the other three vandals away to leave you alone with an angry Zodel. Black eyes boring into yours before they start to scan your face, your skin, and it's only then does he notice the rope burns and scabbed over cuts.

A particularly nasty one on your throat, jerking your jaw in his grip to better see the injury as you glare up at him from the corner of your eye. Leaning closer to your throat before he presses his lips gently to the bruised skin above the open wound. Slowly the shroud around him retreats back into the black coat he wears before he's palming the back of your head.

Pulling you into the safety of his chest, his jacket as he wraps the old fabric around you waiting for you to latch onto his torso like normally did.

"You fought hard for these treasures." He lets his hand follow the curve of your skull as he speaks, voice almost soft making your stomach flutter with excitement especially when he adds, "You did well princess."

You snap up to look at him as if you hadn't heard him correctly, rarely ever giving you praise let alone the nickname you've asked him, and only him, to call you.

Eyes darting between his before they fall to his soft lips and for a moment you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch up.

[rdbrainz]

info post 💪 this one may read a bit stranger than the last one because i just translated the text i initially wrote down in russian (lazy ass) sorry in advance Volto Pirro Ljung Number 3 Zanpakuto: Pazuzu, a rapier twisted into a cone-like shape with golden wings and a skull on its guard Resurrección: Vulture Other: h - 187cm, w - around 84kg, he's not particularly large, but he's also not skinny Status at the end of the story: Alive, location unknown

Volto is the direct personification of someone surrounded by the wrong company. And not so much a company that instills bad habits and opinions, but a company that makes you feel alone. Despite being the number 3, Volto is both an outcast and an integral part of the troupe. He is Pierrot. This is his role, and it's often the subject of jokes and ridicule from the other Arrancar. No theater or circus performance can do without a sad clown because other people's grief is funny. Ljung doesn't share the views of the other members of the troupe about the importance of fun and entertainment in life. He does understand them, because he has been in the same boat as them for hundreds of years now, but he can't find the strength to be content with the same things as others. There is simply nothing to smile about. He has a somewhat nihilistic outlook on life and considers his situation hopeless. But he is still firmly convinced that the seeker will always find either death or answers to his own questions. Only he doesn't know what exactly he should be looking for. As he will realize later - the right people. He clearly understands his position in the group and in this world. He is still here, despite the condescending attitude of others, only because he is useful and there is no point in running away - he has explored Hueco Mundo from high up several times, each time convincing himself even more that there is NOTHING there, and in the human world, he will forever remain a stranger. And there was nothing to do there alone anyway. So Volto simply accepted his fate, smothering the last shreds of hope. He sees his own salvation in fulfilling the troupe's goal, whether it be his own death or world domination. In fact, Volto isn't half as pessimistic as he appears in the story, he's just tired and apathetic due to circumstances. If you strip away all that, you'll find that he has a rather rebellious attitude and a kind, relaxed personality. He's no stranger to emotions and feelings. He's also a cunning son of a bitch and knows a lot about others because he's omnipresent, even though you may not even realize he's around. A moderately cruel but loyal friend. My friend once said he has a hippie vibe and she's probably right. Well, bro is something between a metalhead and a hippie, if we're gonna get into archetypes. Volto is very interested in befriending Ikkon, as they are both loners with untapped talents and potential, but it is to no avail. He constantly follows him around the building whenever the opportunity presents itself and tries to strike up a conversation one way or another. Agreda, as you can imagine, doesn't like that very much. But the two of them have developed a close bond nonetheless.

His ability is to manipulate flesh while absorbing enough of its biomaterial - either the flesh itself or blood. With the living, it is limited in time and effect (plus, the amount he's eaten also plays a role), but with the dead, he can do whatever he wants, up to completely altering the body structure into something completely different - like weapons, wings, or decorative elements. The formation of the troupe was by no means an easy or quick process and "selecting the cast" and establishing the rules of coexistence left behind mountains of corpses, almost all of which Volto got to use. Even now, what remains after his comrades-in-arms falls into his hands. From ones deliberately killed for some peculiarity that would come in handy, to decapitated victims of Ikkon's doings. As time went on, the presence of once-living puppets around him began to take a toll on Volto. No matter how depersonalized he tried to make them, the thought of their origins would not leave him. Activating his Resurrección gives Volto wings with a very large spread and an additional joint that allows him to fold them over his head like a roof. On the back side, they look normal, but on the underside, they are not fully covered in plumage and are full of a large number of strange-looking furrows of flesh and holes from which poison or poisonous gas oozes. Also possesses a deadly breath. The ability aims to take either the life of the victim or someone around them as quickly as possible to use as a puppet later. In short, pessimism is contagious, it poisons not only your life but also those around you, you know *wink-wink*. The power of his wings easily helps him to lift sand into the air and make sandstorms. Pazuzu is a demon of winds, bringing death and drought. Was named after an archetype of Italian theatrical masks (if you can call it that) that most resemble a human face without emotion - Volto. Pirro is a variation of the spelling of Pierrot's name, and the last name Ljung belongs to the Norwegian bass player from Zeromancer, Kim Ljung.

[princelylove]

Part two of my interpretations of la squadra esecuzioni. 

Ghiaccio is like a smaller Risotto. He doesn’t have a very distinct waist. He’s so picky with his food that it’s a wonder he even got that much distinct muscle- or maybe it isn’t, cutting is effective (in moderation, starving will only set you back on your progress). He mainly works out for his job, Ghiaccio doesn’t really care what he looks like. 

He has a strong nose, and although his lips are small they aren’t quite in the thin category, he has really nice bone structure… He just doesn’t realize it because he’s horribly insecure and feels inferior. He copes by not trying, so he can always rely on the ‘Well if I actually tried it’d be better’ type of logic. Once a year Prosciutto gets to wax his eyebrows. 

Not only does he know what mogging is but he knows where it originated. Because he was there. I’m dying on the hill that Ghiaccio knows what green text is. He’s appealed countless bans that all sounded like “I’ve never even fucking been on /mu/ you stupid fucks” (that all got approved the night of). He fills his mind with toxic masculinity, but isn’t into alpha male bullshit. Somehow he thinks hunter eyes are a thing but he draws the line at “smooth brained jock bullshit.” 

I cap Ghiaccio’s height at 5’9” or 175 cm. 5’10” or 177 cm with his shoes on. He’s got fantastic posture for someone that sits at a computer all day. Ghiaccio’s sensitive about it, teasing him about his height is a death sentence. What a good way to end up in a freezer. 

While he has a horrible temper, he cools off the second he gets it out of his system. Just moves on after smacking the shit out of his designated rage pillow like nothing happened. At least he’s coping. Not well, but an outlet is an outlet. It’s the same when you piss him off- he gets upset, says things he doesn’t mean, and then moves on. He apologizes like a father would- none at all, but brings you a snack or buys you something you’ve been asking for. He’s a big fan of the “Check if there’s mail.” approach. He genuinely does feel bad, but he’s not a little bitch that’s gonna tuck his tail in between his legs because he made his darling a little sad. 

He smells like absolutely nothing at all. It’s actually a bit frightening. Zero smell presence. 

Melone keeps every medicine known to mankind in his room, under his bed. He’s a great person to befriend if you find yourself in the hands of one of his roommates, but to be entirely honest with you, he’s selfish. He doesn’t really care about your agony because it’s got nothing to do with him, how does it benefit him to give you meds when he doesn’t even know you? (He budges if you belong to Prosciutto or Ris- he’s not pissing off his pseudo mom and dad.)

Melone is thin and mainly gets his exercise from running. His stand takes care of hits for him, he just needs to worry about the set up, so it isn’t really an issue. There’s no need for him to lift heavy, or really lift at all. Doesn’t really matter if he’s stronger, he just needs to be faster than you are. Sure, bash his head in, pick him up, aren’t you getting tired, though? Real sleepy? Go to sleep, it’s gonna be ok. 

Mel’s stand is possessing an actual computer he modified. He runs tests consistently with the blood samples he’s managed to store in his room- he knows the best combinations to get him what the boss wants, and as long as he’s got ample blood left over, what’s wrong with killing a few juniors off in the name of science? 

I classify Melone as apathetic and a bit mean. He’s an asshole. He gets a lot better once he’s comfortable with you, look at how much he plays with the rest of his ‘family.’ It’s just that he doesn’t know you, and doesn’t want to waste time on you if you’re going to get in his way long term. When you do spark his interest, of course, he gets obsessed and oh-so-curious. 

He’s still very playful- Melone likes to hang off of Formaggio’s shoulders and tease Ghiaccio, but he’s calm. He’s not very smiley, he’s not very giggly, he just can’t force himself to react in the ‘correct’ way most of the time, but he’s totally having fun! Melone loves you a lot, he just doesn’t look like he’s having fun most of the time. It’s hard for him to care about things, but you quickly rotted his brain- isn’t that testament enough? 

His seemingly cold nature makes it hard for him to form genuine bonds. Melone thrives with other difficult types- he shares a room with Ghiaccio (alternatively Formaggio) because they’re short on space and Prosciutto won’t share a room since The Incident they get along surprisingly well. 

In the beginning of your new life, it isn’t uncommon to hear Formaggio gently push Melone in the right direction. “Come on, Mel, you’re scarin’ the poor thing. Smile a little.”  (Which is normally met with “I’m running tests, go away, Formaggiooo…”) Melone’s shy- he’ll just stay off to the side, and speaks to you in a very formal manner. You might feel like you’re being tested on by a medical student. Which is wrong! Melone doesn’t have any medical experience! I mean, he’s taken classes, but he’s a genetics student. Oh, yeah, he’s in university. 

Once he gets used to you, he falls into his normal, playful routine. He still doesn’t smile too much, but he’ll speak more openly, which… is it better to not know what the iv in your arm is, or to fully understand? Melone’s quite the talker, and is happy to (over) explain. 

Melone doesn’t hide you like the others would- it isn’t shameful to him to kidnap a whole person, and he needs them to keep you here when he isn’t. Morals aside, you need to be socialized. It isn’t good to keep someone isolated and cramped in a room they don’t like. If you don’t want to talk to him, talk to anyone else. You’ve got options. Maybe not Prosciutto, or Illuso, they’re not going to play host as easily… (Although Prosciutto might ask what Melone’s “little friend” is gonna be having for dinner)

Formaggio’s body type is similar to Guido’s. He’s fairly bulky. Formaggio spends all of his free time playing whatever sport he can think of, neglecting to do his chores (You’re starting to think he likes Prosciutto yelling at him), annoying Melone, and blowing your phone up. He spends a lot of time working out, but he considers that to be more of a daily ritual than a hobby. 

Since his only real responsibility is taking care of his cat and his job, he’s not stressed at all. He’d be a lot more stressed if he had to cook, and clean, and, I don’t fucking know, be an adult or whatever- like the shit Pro and Ris do all day!

If you ever ask him about it, he’ll go “I mean, it sucks that Boss is watching us and all, but to be honest, who cares? You don’t like being on camera? It loooves you.” and leaves it at that. 

His psychology is a bit odd. He seems like a typical, immature guy- the type of guy you meet at college that does sports and seemingly nothing else. No interest in philosophy, religion, general culture, etc. While I think that his personality is close to a casual type like Guido or Squalo, he seemingly lacks any depth at all. There’s no “Oh, he’s actually very smart!” thing going on here, Formaggio is painfully average. There’s no reason for him to be a mafioso other than bad timing and a lack of drive to get away from it.

He’s actually pretty simple. He’s just a guy that wants to relax and have a little fun- who doesn’t like fun? But Formaggio is crazy insecure. He takes almost every negative reaction as a jab- neutral ones, too. If you’re not into his lifestyle, what, he isn’t fuckin’ good enough? Huh? You think he’s some fuckin’ nobody that doesn’t have the real talent it takes to be where he is? 

You can calm Formaggio by stroking his ego, and by that, I mean stroking him. He’ll forget about any transgression if he finishes a few times. 

He only speaks italian, and will “Huh?” you to death if you do not. He’ll buy you an italian-english dictionary to help you understand him, but won’t make any real effort to learn english.  

Formaggio’s kitty was a stray before he snatched her up. She’ll try to comfort you while Formaggio is gone- but she’ll abandon you if he comes back. Little traitor. He calls her a ridiculous amount of pet names- sometimes he’ll reuse whatever name he calls you on her, and will pretend he’s always called her it. Awww, my little pwincess, my cuuuutie, my baby, my angeelllll. He treats her very well- she’s a bit pampered.  While Formaggio’s cat is able to relax fully in his arms, you probably will not, unless you’re a masochist. He loves good, old fashioned sadism- no prissy mind games or punishments, he does it for absolutely no reason other than how funny your reactions are. He’s like that asshole boyfriend that throws a basketball into your face and laughs when you groan. Come on, it’s just a ball, don’t be such a baby. It’s just a joke. Aw, your face stings? You want some ice? Hey, that’s a great idea, why don’t you go get him something from the fridge?

[lucdoodle]

1, 2, 4, 7, 12, 23 foe Adam!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character? Oh man! Where to begin!! I like his personality, design, concept, and the implications of what his story was/is off-screen and how it plays with the relationship he has with other characters that know him for a long time (read here: Lucifer, Lilith, Eve, Lute, Sera, and older angel in general.) As well as the implications of how his life in Heaven is like and how other angels sees him. All the implications who derives from the mere concept of his character are- !!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! a lot of fun to think about!!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character? 1- His relationship with Lute! 2- How he's genuinely an asshole lol (im very much not in the "adam did nothing wrong" group.) This dude is an apathetic asshole and an incredibly interesting character!

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in? Oh boi, a series of shorts like the "Helluva shorts", except that they'd be about Adam's life in Heaven pre-canon!

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like? Exploring the implications!!! Taking the crumbs of informations we know about him and making whole cakes with it!! Also im a big fan of any fanfics that explores (even if briefly!) the relationship between Adam and Sera (in a platonic way, i mean.) I particularly love both the interpretations of 1- Sera thinking about the lost potential, and how Adam evolved and changed, did he changed or was he always like that? Was it the apple and thus Lucifer's fault? Or was he always like that? Since we know Sera was in heaven before Adam died, do you think she's the one that taught him how to fly? Do you think she's the one that taught him how to live in Heaven? Do you think she's the one that was put in charge of taking care of the first human soul? And what does Sera means to Adam? (stuff like that!) And interpretation 2- Sera thinking smt like "Oh not this guy again..." as Adam kicks the doors opens with a loud "WASSUP BITCHES, Adam the man himself is here!! NOW we can start the meeting or whatever" like a "that one coworker you hate" relationship XD Both are good XD auihznkjiuhgernikjulko

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character? OHOHOH!!! Lemme pull out my list! * a comically long - seemingly endless scroll proceed to fall on the ground and gets all over the place * (Erm, but huh, more seriously i actually have a list of my headcanons for Adam so, uh, ANYWAY, here!) XD 1- his favorite food (that is not meat) is apple pie! (and he hates that it's apple pie of all things, so he doesn't eat it often at all) 2- he considers Lute "one of the boys" 3- Adam and Lute have movie nights 4- when he's in a really weird mood/feeling weird he eats apples 5- adam and lucifer were friends back in Eden 6- he's very unconfortable showing skin (which is why he wears a mask and clothes that don't show any skin) 7- his mask was originally a gift from Sera as she notived Adam didn't like being the only human in heaven in the early days where there was nothing else but angels up there 8- lucifer taught adam swear words, and told him to blame michael if Sera asked who taught him. Lucifer did it because he wanted to see the look on sera's face as he thought it'd be a funny prank 9- adam feels most comfortable sleeping on sand and dust and such since he was created from The Dust 10- emily genuinely thinks adam's mask is his face, this is a extremely popular misconception among angels 11- extremely few persons have seen adam without his mask 12- it took adam A LOT of time before he managed to eat another apple after what happened in Eden 13- he has an extremely good memory, but he only use it for things he likes or that involve him directly 14- he hates being alone 15- he adored being with and hanging out with Lucifer back in Eden, they were good friends and Lucifer taught Adam about a lot of things 16- lucifer taught adam what music was 17- adam is a very "monkey see monkey do" kind of person 18- when confused he makes a head tilt like animals do when they're confused, and he picked the way he hold his wings from watching birds 19- sera is the one that was put in charge of kicking adam and eve out of eden 20- sera will never forget the cries and begs from them and it still haunts her, meanwhile adam completely forgot that it was Sera that kicked him out of Eden

23. Favorite picture of this character? This one! simply because it shows how utterly TOL Adam is XD

But also this whole bit! For a character so self-centred, it was so cool to see him taking a support role!

[mikhailwrites]

Keep your Sergeant happy / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #18 - Cooking (from the SFW prompt list, made a bit NSFW)

Soap stares. Shocked out of his wit, which is almost unheard of. A confused “You… cook?” is the only response he’s capable of.

“I do. Been told I’m rather good at it, too,” Ghost adds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Two weeks. Soap and Ghost are holed up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere for two weeks, and the Sergeant is seriously starting to lose it. They don’t even know if they’re really in danger; all Price told them was, “There’s been a leak; lay low, don’t return to the base until you hear from me”. It’s just their luck they’ve been out on a deployment to Germany when it happened.

They’ve been living off canned food and stashed MREs for too long, and Soap’s had just enough. He looks into the cupboard for the umpteenth time as if he doesn’t know what he’ll find there. More cans. “Ah swear Ah will throw up if I have tae eat one more canned meat.” Johnny groans, going through the stash in hopes of finding something else.

Ghost hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything encouraging or otherwise. Soap is sure his Lieutenant could live from berries and roots if it came to that. Or hunt a rabbit with his bare hands or something. He’s seen Ghost’s survival skills first-hand many times. Fuck, Soap would kill for a rabbit. Or a fish. Or anything other than a disgusting piece of pseudo-meat in the sleazy gravy. But there’s nothing else, and his stomach has been growling for over an hour.

By the third, slowly chewed bite, Soap is willing to call this shit worse than actual torture. Closing his eyes as he feeds himself another piece, Soap feels his face contort in a mixture of disgust and apprehension.

“You look like you’re about to die, Johnny,” Ghost says without a hint of emotion.

Soap sighs, putting the dreaded can away as he hopes the few bites would be enough to calm his stomach and give it at least an illusion of sustenance. “Might as well if I have to eat one more of these.”

Ghost chuckles, shaking his head slowly. “Any food is better than no food, trust me.”

Soap knows, truly, but that doesn’t mean he can’t bitch about it, does it?

“Tell you what, if you can manage two cans a day, I’ll cook something nice for you when we get back,” Ghost offers and… he sounds almost cheerful as he says it.

Soap stares. Shocked out of his wit, which is almost unheard of. A confused “You… cook?” is the only response he’s capable of.

“I do. Been told I’m rather good at it, too,” Ghost adds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Only the sly glint in his eyes betrays the truth that he enjoys teasing Soap.

“What… uh… okay? Alright.” Soap stutters and reluctantly takes the half-eaten can.

Ghost nods his approval. “That’s the spirit, Johnny. So… what’d you like? And I swear to God, if you say haggis, you’re not gonna live it down.”

“Why? Ye cannae do haggis?” Soap teases but quickly reconsiders as Ghost turns to him fully, casually flipping a knife. “Alright, alright! I dinnae even like haggis, ye British twat! Tikka masala fine with ye?”

“Butter chicken it is,” Ghost agrees, hiding the knife away.

The following week is a blur. They get back, Price briefs them, and then they have to catch up on the piles of work that, somehow, could wait up until then but couldn’t wait any longer. Johnny was looking forward to returning home, but now that he’s home, it’s not as happy a reunion as he hoped.

Soap is just finishing up for the day, tired, apathetic and irritable. For the first time ever, he’s seriously considering taking a few days' leave. Ghost’s voice stops him as he reaches the door. “Soap, meet me at the mess hall at 2300.”

It’s a weird request at best, and Soap blinks a few times before he turns around. The Lieutenant doesn’t spare him a glance, still typing away on his keyboard. Maybe Soap didn’t hear right? “Come again?”

“Mess hall, 2300, be there,” Ghost repeats without any further explanation.

Soap nods, too tired to bother. “Sure.”

As a matter of fact, he’s too tired to ponder on it. Ghost tells him to be somewhere, Soap does it, easy as that—no thinking required.

The moment he steps into the mess hall, five minutes to eleven, he realises what’s going on. The smell of masala, garlic and turmeric is enough to make his mouth water immediately. He remembers Ghost’s promise now.

Entering the kitchen, he sees Ghost dressed in his usual black attire, with a white apron. The balaclava is tucked up on his nose because, obviously, he needs to smell and taste the sauce. Nobody would ever believe Soap if he told them.

“You were actually serious,” Johnny says as he leans against the counter, watching in astonishment as Ghost prepares the meal. No, not Ghost, it’s Simon now. And Simon’s moves in the kitchen are just as steady and well-practised Ghost’s on the battlefield.

Simon chuckles, stirring the sauce. “I was. Now, hand me the plates.”

Soap does, feeling a bit nostalgic. He used to help his maw in the kitchen when he was but a wee kid. He watches Simon fill the plates with rice, pouring a generous amount of sauce over it and adding a healthy amount of chicken on top. “Here you go, one chicken tikka masala.”

They sit at the table; it’s a bit weird being the only two people there, but Soap doesn’t mind. This feels nice. Unsure of what to expect, he scoops some rice with his fork, adding the sauce to it, before he tenderly tastes it.

“Holy shit,” Soap utters in disbelief, staring first into his plate, then at Simon, who looks very pleased with himself as he eats his own portion. “This is so good!”

“Thank you,” Simon smirks. “Told you I can cook.”

It’s true, but for some reason, Johnny really thought he was joking. Ghost. Cooking. And acing it, as he aces pretty much anything he does. On a closer inspection, it shouldn’t surprise him. Soap opts for not saying anything and just enjoying the amazing treat. When he tastes the chicken that was probably soaking in the marinating sauce for some time, he moans obscenely. The food is honestly much better than it has any right to be. So good, in fact, that it strips Soap of his brain-to-mouth filter. “If you’re at least half as good a lay as you are a cook, I wanna marry ye.”

Simon pauses, fork with another bite lifted halfway. His eyes are wide with surprise.

“Oh fuck…,” Soap breathes out as he realises not only what did he just say but to whom.

Simon smiles, one of his slightly scary, feral smiles. “Technically, this could count as a dinner.”

Soap is fighting the overwhelming mixture of confusion and panic. He has no clue what’s going on, but Simon doesn’t seem offended, which is good. In fact, he looks… intrigued. Okay, Soap can work with that. “You think me some easy lad, letting you have your way with me after just one dinner?”

“It’s a damn good dinner,” Simon shrugs. He watches Soap intently, and the intent is dark and hungry.

Johnny slides his foot under the table until it nudges against Simon’s. It’s a safe touch, nothing overt or inappropriate. “Aye, it is. Makes me want to ask about the dessert.”

Simon’s foot nudges him right back with more strength, forcing Soap to spread his legs a little. Bleedin’ Jesus, is this really happening? “I might have something… back in my room.”

Soap finishes his plate in a record time, feeling genuinely sorry because it was definitely good enough to savour. Maybe he could convince Ghost to cook for him again. He’s determined to try.

It’s a small miracle they make it to Ghost’s room without any incidents. The moment the doors close, however, Simon is already yanking the balaclava off, mashing their mouths together as he wrestles with Soap’s clothes.

Johnny helps with that and then promptly returns the favour, eager to touch every inch of exposed skin, to kiss and taste everything Simon offers. And he offers plenty. They kiss, and they rut against each other, desperately trying to relieve some of the tension. However, it’s not that easy because it has been building up for months. The banter, the flirting, the seemingly innocent touches. It all culminates right here, at this moment.

Johnny has no idea when exactly their dynamic shifts, but at one moment, Simon is kissing him, licking his way into Johnny’s mouth, and the next, it’s Johnny, pressing on, forcing Simon to take a step back, then another, until they get to the bed. He’s never imagined Ghost as anything other than pushy top, but it seems that he was wrong. Still, he needs to clarify. “You want me to…?”

“Yeah, Johnny, fuck me,” Simon says, almost painfully blunt but perfectly clear. Johnny pauses to take a deep breath.

“It’d be my absolute pleasure, Simon,” Johnny grins, pushing Ghost back, causing him to fall on the bed. Ghost could immediately turn the tables if he felt so inclined, and it turns Soap on. He gets Ghost to cook for him, he gets him to be manhandled, and he gets to fuck him. He might just be the luckiest lad in the whole fucking world.

It’s good, so good. Simon is far from passive; he wants Johnny, and what Simon wants, Simon gets. Slowing down and speeding up again, changing the angle ever so slightly, they work together in nearly perfect sync to prolong their pleasure. Despite their best efforts, it cannot last.

Johnny is the first to succumb, gasping, only barely managing to keep reasonably quiet as the sweet respite takes him. Simon is close behind, grunting and arching his back as he grinds against Soap.

They lay on the bed, side by side, sticky and messy, yet unable to do anything about it for the moment.

“I’m doomed. You are as good a fuck as you are a cook,” Johnny laughs, quiet and light, tracing invisible patterns on Simon’s skin.

“I’m not marrying you, Johnny,” Simon retorts in a tone just as light.

“You say that now, but wait until the second date.”

[baronfulmen]

It's only March and I am already losing patience with the "if you vote for Biden you're a bad person" bullshit

I am going to explain this one more time (lie, I will explain it like a hundred more times but probably more pissy each time)

The way the electoral college works, there is NO viable way for a third party candidate to win.

You could REPLACE one of the existing parties in theory, but more likely you would just change the party until you like it more.

This is done starting at the local level, which is also where third party candidates can actually win. Despite this most people totally ignore everything but the presidential election and then bitch about it.

You could fix our elections by working to eliminate gerrymandering and voter suppression and by fighting for ranked choice voting, but again that's not a thing that's going to happen all at once (or ever in an election year).

Biden is awful, duh. All US presidents have been awful. They have all committed war crimes and if hell were real there would be a special section just for US presidents. Yes even whichever one you think was okay, Carter or whoever.

Biden's administration has done a TON of good shit, alongside the bad. No I'm not saying the bad stuff was worth it, I'm just saying it is not all bad stuff which is important because Trump really is basically all bad shit. All of it. He's all the bad shit that comes with Biden AND so so so much more.

Not voting doesn't send a message, because voter turnout is already abysmal and so your protest non-vote is lost in a sea of apathetic non-votes and Republican generated lack of votes due to voter suppression.

Not voting doesn't somehow make you a more virtuous person, nor does voting for Biden make you a bad person even though he's a bad person. You have two options, Biden or Trump. That's it. Not voting is still making a choice, and that choice will STILL RESULT IN EITHER TRUMP OR BIDEN so you might as well be a fucking adult about it and acknowledge that one is less bad than the other.

There are some states that are so OVERWHELMINGLY certain to go to a particular candidate that it's harmless to vote third party, but I have frequently seen people on this site say that applies to them and then mention where they live and it's ABSOLUTELY not one of those places so I don't know what some of you are smoking. Florida, for christ's sake.

I get that a lot of you want to start the bloody revolution or whatever, but please understand that even if you're serious and actually plan on doing that there's no reason you can't ALSO vote.

This isn't that complicated. Grow up and vote for Biden, and be angry and bitter about it the whole time. Work towards change in ways that actually matter and have a chance of making a difference, instead of sitting back and smugly acting like doing nothing makes you a better person you fucking cowardly assholes.

[joanofexys]

also 🔴 for anyone/everyone thank u

- @ninyard <333

🔴 Red- What is a trait your OC has that those around them don't see very often? Is it seen by a rare few or completely overlooked?

Florian - Flor is truly so emotional. He’s very tender and he loves easily and falls so hard. And most people don’t see it because he acts like a raging, apathetic, bitch 90% of the time. Mara and Jean are the two people who see it the most. Kevin gets to see it sometimes. And eventually Ilya gets it pretty much all the time. It’s warm breathe against Jean’s jaw and a murmured “I think I’m a little bit in love with you”. A barely there brush of lips against Jean’s forehead and a “I’m glad you’re getting the chance you deserved, I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to give it to you”. It’s Mara thrown over his shoulder and loud laughter in their first apartment and a “I’m glad that out of everyone it was you”. It’s sitting on soft carpet, dozing with his head on Ilya’s thigh, and “thank you for loving me back”. It’s flying out for one of Kevin’s games, waiting for him in the hallway and squeezing his hand before he goes to talk to the press, “I can’t wait to be on the court with you again”. He’s a little bit in love with all the people in his life and he doesn’t often show it.

Ilya - Ilya’s incredibly patient but it often gets overlooked due to his stubbornness. He’ll wait as long as he needs to for someone. His relationship with Florian is a great example. He’ll wait as long as it takes. But he doesn’t give up so a lot of his patience gets viewed as just him being a stubborn asshole. I think Florian notices it once he stops being pissed at Ilya for being Like That. Ilya’s the only one who has the patience to implement the partner system with Florian after Mara says she doesn’t want to do it anymore. The patience of a saint despite being a little shit about everything.

Mara -Mara’s incredibly sentimental. And she gets nostalgic very easily. She thinks about her family a lot. Everything before the Ravens. She doesn’t even really talk to Florian about it. How she misses her dad, how she writes her mom cards she doesn’t send every mother’s day. Her memories of her childhood are precious to her when she doesn’t have any items to hang onto it. However, that also transfers to the nest. After graduating she clings to those memories, to everything she has of the ravens. The good and the bad.

Emiko - She has godawful imposter syndrome. I mean imagining spending most of your life trying to be the best, actually being the best. You’re captain of your team, you make olympic court immediately because you’re just that good. And it’s never acknowledged because your little brother is just handed it all while you had to earn it. When Riko is praised for all the same things and she’s never praised for any of it it makes her wonder if she’s as good as she thinks she is. She wonders a lot if her name has gotten her where she is. She spends a lot of time thinking about how she must’ve tricked everyone into thinking she’s this good, that she deserves Court, because if she was really this good her family would’ve admitted it by now. Nothing she does will ever be good enough. For Tetsuji and for herself.

Jude - He can actually be so difficult to get to know and incredibly aloof and distant. Jude spends so much of his time caring about other people and being focused on giving them his time and energy that oftentimes there's very little of him left. He's very dedicated to his relationships and his friends and family but its to a point where he can know your deepest, darkest secrets and you'll realize you don't even know his favorite color or if he drinks coffee every morning or what he did over the weekend. He really has forgotten, in ways, how to even talk about himself. So much of what he shares about himself is attached to someone else that people struggle learning things about him outside of that. They know he loves his team and he loves his dog and he loves his moms. They don't know that he goes to the record shop on main street in the city he and Merrick live in every Sunday morning. They don't know that his favorite movie is The Mummy and he'll never choose anything else if he's allowed to pick the film on movie night. They don't know that his favorite color isn't red, it's green or blue (and you can't make him decide). They don't know that he started little league exy as a goalie and promptly burst into tears the first time he got a ball to the face. They don't know that he can quote the majority of the star wars films and that he buys every copy of lord of the rings he can get his hands on and that he's obsessed with the dinosaurs in jurassic park. They don't know that he did photography on the side to help pay for college. That he wants be a journalist and sports commentator after he retires, and only coach little league. Jude as an individual is very hard to know. He's so focused on giving to other people that he can often forget that they just want him as he is.

Merrick - I think it's really something only Jude, and maybe the foxes, see. It's how hard he tries. For everything. Most people think Merrick is incredibly uncaring and doesn't put effort into healing or forming healthy relationships. But only Wymack saw the late nights where he called his parents, attempting to mend their relationship. And only Jude sees the frustration over a lost game and letting down his team. Only he knows about the flowers left on his sisters grave, that they're the only ones regularly replaced, that he'll always fresh ones before the last bouquet can go bad. It obviously took so much effort for him to get clean. And he relapsed multiple times. And I think people overlook how hard he tries to stay clean. How determined he is to be better than his parents, to be better than who he was.

Angel - It's either his temper or the fact that he exists on the entire concept of "you never stop missing your mom". He's so angry, so often. And in high school that became very internal and after having Phoebe it's something he's very determined to work on and change. But the weirdest things will set him off. He got into fights all the time as a kid. And once with the foxes it was easy enough to piss him to the point of nearly taking a swing (though he for the most part he just tells the person that if they don't stop he will fucking deck them). He's got a pretty good grasp on it now, but because he doesn't express it often his temper definitely gets missed. And then there's the fact that he just constantly wants his mom. And that's something he's so so scared to admit. Cause bringing up his mom in his house as a kid was not allowed. His dad would get so upset about it and it only ended in pain for him. It's only during full blown meltdowns or panic attacks that he'll ask for his mom and it really slips out. But it's truly something that'll never leave him. Anytime Phoebe won't go to sleep he wants his mom. They win a game, he wants his mom. He got a 100 on his exam for the first time ever, he wants his mom. He has to book an appointment, he wants his mom. He can't fall asleep, he wants his mom. It is the littlest things. And he hates it because he can barely even remember who it is he's missing. He was so young that whenever he ends up begging for his mom he doesn't even have a clear picture of who he's asking for. She might as well be a stranger to him. Yet despite it she'll always be the first person he thinks of whenever he needs someone.

Emeryk - Emeryk clings to guilt like it's a lifeline. He has so many regrets. And it's absolutely not something anyone is allowed to know. He holds onto guilt that isn't his. He feels guilt for people who refuse to feel it themselves. He feels the guilt of his father, of his mother too, and of the man he currently serves. He feels the guilt of pain he couldn't prevent and the pain he, himself, endured. He is not a good person and that will never change and he feels terrible about it. He knows in every universe he chooses his own survival first and in every universe he feels guilt for all the people he chose to let suffer in doing so.

[gayshitanddadjokes]

You're trapped in a timeloop. Every day, you witness the same horrible car accident. It kills three people instantly. As you go through the timeloop, you start to figure out that you have powers. You have powers, and each time you witness those deaths you become more powerful. You investigate. Maybe you start with a wild rabbit or the 14-year-old family dog that's scheduled to be put down in a month. You find yourself apathetic to the act of killing it; it'll be back tomorrow. You confirm it, it being that each time you witness death you become more powerful. Tomorrow (the next today) you visit a hospital, track down all the terminally ill patients. You witness four people die. You don't become more powerful. What's the difference?

You realize eventually. The car that triggers the accident had been sabotaged by you. The woman who drives it is a total bitch and yesterday (many many todays ago) you slashed her tires. The mechanic fucked up when he was putting the new tires on. The deaths are, for all intensive purposes, your fault. You try again. You kill the family dog and feel the power surge in you. You watch a wild animal get torn to shreds in the woods and feel nothing.

After you know that, it's not a question of 'if'. It's not a question of morals or strength. It's just nine simple words: how long does it take for you to kill? It doesn't matter. They'll be back again tomorrow (today). The only people that will remember are you and whatever divine trickster is keeping track of your powers. And if your powers get strong enough, you can find a way out of here.

You use your powers to kill, which makes your powers stronger, which means you can kill more, which makes your powers stronger, which means you can kill more, which makes your powers stronger, which means you can kill more, and ouroboros consumes himself.

You never escape. You get to the point where you can move mountains with the flick of a wrist but you're not strong enough to escape. Not strong enough to see tomorrow (not today not today not today) because that was never an option. You are a god among what are nothing but human sacrifices living the same instant of unfathomable power over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and

Anyway I'm pretty sure I just developed a Greek afterlife torture. Hades hmu.

[evewasheretoday]

Heathers + Veronica Headcanons (Movie)

Relationships

For starters, Heather Chandler and Veronica actually are close. Believe it or not, they have some sort of special relationship that neither of them really want to define - It's hard to explain but Veronica knows Heather better than she knows herself and the same goes for Heather.

Hence why Chandler has pictures of her and Veronica in her locker.

Chandler DOES care about the Heathers and Veronica but it's only up to a certain extent that she does care about them.

Mac is actually pretty muscular, it's the fruit of the many years of cheering that she's been doing.

Veronica has a complicated relationship with all of the Heathers. For one moment, they genuinely care about each other as friends then the next they don't. They only need each other to feel in control and complete - talk about codependency, you know?

Much like Veronica's relationship with Chandler, the same goes for Mac and Duke. It's hard for any of the Heathers to define their relationship with each other and it's even harder for them to explain how it is.

Duke genuinely enjoys Veronica's company and appreciates it but she can't help and think about how it might be completely nothing. That she's the only one in the relationship who actually values their relationship in one way or another.

The same goes for Mac. She can't help but think that Veronica is only tolerating her to fit in with the rest of them. That Veronica only indulges her because if she doesn't, she might be out of place in Chandler's view.

Veronica is practically the giver in her relationship with them.

Sure, Chandler gives her things from time to time. Duke helps her with school work that she doesn't understand or has a hard time trying to understand. Mac encourages her when Chandler is being a bossy bitch and making her seem small.

Chandler needs her as some sort of person to keep her in touch with herself and calm her down. Duke needs her to feel appreciated and special in a way. Mac needs her to feel cared and loved for.

In conclusion, each Heathers and Veronica have a messed up relationship with each other.

Duke and Mac's relationship with each other is confusing. They can go from being genuine friends to each other and to being the mindless puppies of Chandler. To be exact, it goes like this - friends to acquaintances or friends to just business partners. That's how their relationship feels like.

Chandler and Duke's relationship can be defined as ‘friends’ but it can always immediately go to being friends and into servant/master or mere acquaintances.

Mac and Chandler's relationship to each other is slightly less messy and confusing. For one, Mac can confirm and consider Chandler as her friend but like Duke's relationship to Chandler - it's like a servant/master relationship.

Juicy Stuff

Veronica can go from being completely empathetic and to being apathetic instantly. Just like the Heathers in one way or another, she won't necessarily care about someone unless they mean something to her and so.

Chandler is a very apathetic person, it would be a rare thing to witness her being empathetic for once in your lifetime.

Duke can be the same as Veronica but even when she doesn't want to care about a certain person, she still ends up caring for said person in the back of her mind.

Mac is very empathetic but forces herself to be apathetic because the idea of a Heather being emotional was wrong got sucked in her head.

The Heathers and Veronica do have good moments with each other but it's just that the bad moments mostly tops over them.

Each one of the Heathers felt threatened by JD when he started hanging out with Veronica and influencing her.

For Chandler, she felt threatened by him because it was as if she was making her break out of her control on her. For Duke, she felt like JD was making Veronica change in many ways she was sure would affect the normality of how things were between them and the others. For Mac, she felt like JD was trying to sway and take her away from them.

The Heathers and Veronica rarely ever joke around with each other. Their humor can be very dark and sarcastic after all.

It's mostly Mac and Veronica who can safely joke with each other lightheartedly. Duke can joke with Veronica lightheartedly too but it takes her a while to figure out whether Veronica is serious with her or not. For Chandler and Veronica, it's a rare thing that barely happens but when it does happen— it's always something horrible that Chandler had become happy of.

When Veronica killed Chandler accidentally, Chandler was pissed for multiple reasons. One of her reasons she was so pissed by Veronica killing her was because she never expected to die accidentally and she didn't definitely didn't expect pillow princess Veronica to be the cause of her death.

Veronica is morally grey. Mac and Duke are morally ambiguous but Duke can be a bit morally grey at times. Chandler? While she is morally black, she can be morally ambiguous at some moments.

[demoneyecandy]

Lust and Love - Part 1

Work: Lust and Love (Part 1)

WC: 6.4k Relationship: Asmodeus x Reader, Asmodeus x MC AFAB reader, she/her pronouns and gendered terms used for reader Warning: Explicit, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Yes, my Asmo is probably ooc, do I care? Not really. He’s my poor little meow meow and I’ll decide why he’s crying.

Description: Asmodeus is having trouble with self-destructive habits, as usual, but this time M/C is there to break him out of his spiral. He shows his appreciation in a very on-brand way.

The fifth-born knew that people talked about him. How could they not? He was simply the most interesting being in all three realms, who could blame them? Some would call him flawless, confident, and sensual – he wasn’t prized in the Celestial Realm for nothing. Others called him vapid, self-absorbed, apathetic, loose, among other nasty comments. If anyone asked, he’d reply that he didn’t pay any attention to the haters. Why would they matter when everyone else knows he’s perfect? And if anyone noticed that after a day with more insults than usual Asmo would be tanked within half an hour of leaving the house? Well, that was just a coincidence. They all know he loves to party, don’t make it a bigger deal than it needs to be.

With the introduction of social media to the Devildom his behavior only spiraled out of control. Devilgram served as a permanent reminder that no matter what he did he would not be universally loved. For someone like Asmo, that was his weakness. The insults cut a lot deeper than he would ever show. His whole identity was based around being desirable. He was the Avatar of Lust, not a scumbag or shut-in like his brothers.

Though the people leaving those comments kept their voices down when he passed them in the halls at RAD, the anonymity of the internet emboldened them. The negative comments were quickly reported by his fans but that didn’t stop them from being burned into his mind. From the more basic “whore” and “stuck-up bitch” to the more involved, “Who does he think he is? He’s not that cute”, “Idk why this loser has so many simps”, “bet he only has this many likes on his posts because he fucked them all lmao”, he had gotten all types of negative comments on his social media posts. When he would complain to his brothers in his usual over-the-top fashion, eyes full of tears and voice several octaves higher than it needed to be, they would shrug him off the same way they did when he told them about his favorite hair product line being discontinued or missing a sale at Majolish. In a way, that was probably his fault – if he gave two things the same weight in the way he presented the problem, of course his family would assume it was just Asmo being dramatic again.

Sometimes at night, when memories of the war haunted him, he would open his phone and scroll through the comments on the Devilgram posts he’d made that day. Anything to occupy his thoughts. The positive ones faded into the background – he knew he was beautiful; he knew he was a fashion icon, and that his skin was flawless. He also knew he wasn’t worth the attention he received, and yet he craved it more than air. He’d re-read every nasty thing that had been said about him, letting the words sink in and join the swirling torrent of self-hatred in his head. He genuinely didn’t know why he did it – maybe the same reason he’d go out and indulge in his sin every night he could. Diavolo had once tried to get the brothers to speak to some counselors after they fell, and his counselor had said his behavior seemed like a form of self-harm. That was the last time he saw that poor excuse for a therapist – how in the world could pleasure be harmful? Of course, there were the times where pain was involved, but that was all consensual. He’d never allow anyone to mar his gorgeous skin. He had already spent ages trying every suggestion he’d ever received to make his scars fade to the point that they were nothing more than barely-there pale lines from cuts and missing spots of pigmentation from burns, he certainly wouldn’t risk adding more. He felt like everyone could see them, like everyone was staring, but he knew rationally that they were only noticeable to him.

When the exchange student had first arrived and he had discovered that she was immune to his abilities, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he had spent a few nights making his way through the highlights of his little black book. His booty calls were proof that he was desirable in the form of men and women writhing in his sheets until the early hours of the morning. When he realized that she liked him anyway? That was the best he had felt in a long time. On the outside of course he played it off, keeping up his flirtatious banter with the human. But to realize that there was someone who liked him, not because of his charm? Or because he could make them feel good? It was exhilarating and terrifying. Sure, she likes him now, but what about when she realizes what everyone else has? That he’s nothing but a bed warmer with a pretty face? He dreaded that day. It was coming sooner or later, he knew it, so he would just do his best to keep the human from seeing any of the cracks he covered up with product.

It was one of those nights tonight. He broke a nail and the visible imperfection sent him into a tailspin until he could get to his room and fix his manicure. As he waited for the polish to dry, he was scrolling through the comments on a selfie he had posted during lunch at RAD. M/C had said he looked cute, so he wanted to believe it, but here he was. Giving so much weight to the opinions of people who couldn’t even say shit to his face.

His spiral was interrupted before it could really get going by a knock on his bedroom door. If it were anyone else he’d yell at them to go away, but he knew from the pattern of the knock that it was M/C.

“Just a moment, darling” he called.

Jumping out of bed, he walked over to his vanity to be sure his hair was perfect and his lip gloss didn’t need to be reapplied.  As satisfied with his reflection as he could ever be, he put on a smile and made his way to open his door. Leaning sensually on the doorframe, he gave M/C his best “fuck me” eyes as he greeted them;

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the most delectable human in the three realms. How can I help you, dear?”

M/C’s face lit up and she laughed at the demon’s antics.

“I’m having some trouble winding down for the night, and I thought I could relax here for a little bit. It’s so calming when you play with my hair”.

Asmodeus was both relieved and frustrated as the human walked past him and settled onto his bed. On the one hand, his spiral had been interrupted before he could do anything particularly self-destructive. On the other hand, it meant he was all amped up with negative feelings and no real outlet for them. There was none of the catharsis that comes along with making bad decisions. It was like that dread and anxiety and self-hatred was sitting in his gut, but he certainly wasn’t going to let M/C see him crack if he could help it. He slowly shut his bedroom door and sat next to where his human had made herself comfortable on his bed.

His eyes roamed her body, lingering just a bit too long on her plush thighs and the peek of skin where her pajama top rode up. It took her a second, but she realized where his eyes were lingering, and she quickly pulled down her shirt. That was fine by him, all it did was expose her collarbones, which he took in just as happily. She blushed and turned away, hoping to regain her composure before he noticed the red tint in her cheeks. She had no such luck, but it was cute that she thought she could hide anything from him.

He did his best to keep the predatory glint out of his eyes. The demon knew that if he came on too strong she would back off, like she had on the few occasions he’d run into her after a night out and his confidence got the best of him. The next morning he would pretend he had blacked out, but he treasured the memories of the trembling of her frame beneath his hands when he’d come in close to whisper in her ear some of the naughty thoughts he’d had about her and the startled noise she’d made the time he slapped her ass on his way up to bed. It had been just his luck that Mammon had been at the end of the hallway, so he’d gotten quite the talking to from Lucifer the next morning. Something about not taking advantage of the exchange student, how he had to show more respect, the reputation of Diavolo’s exchange program, blah blah blah. The only thing he had cared about was that it hadn’t been M/C herself who’d told Lucifer, it had been a jealous brother. He had, in fact, felt a lovely spark of lust rise up in his human on every occasion he’d gotten bold from the (frankly, impressive) amount of demonus in his system. After all, he’s a demon, not a monster. Sexual assault is anathema to sexual pleasure and therefore unacceptable at every level for the Avatar of Lust. Sometimes late at night when he’d touch himself he’d remember how she’d looked like a deer in the headlights, so afraid of his touch but so desperately wanting it just the same. Other times, when he was feeling more sentimental, he’d think of her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him.

After she thought her face was back to normal (it wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that when she just looked so damn cute), she moved around until her head was in his lap and her body was stretched out in a pile of his softest blankets, grabbing his hand and placing it on her head in an unvoiced demand for him to stroke her hair. His heart melted – this was all she ever asked of him. At the same time, a small voice in the back of his head spoke.

You know why she doesn’t try to fuck you, right? You’re not good enough for her and she knows it. I’m sure she’s fucking one of your brothers instead. She’s found someone who could satisfy her in a way you never could. After all, you’re nothing but a placeholder. Easy and good enough for a night, but why would she want you when she could have them? Why would she want damaged goods? A vapid, self-obsessed, pathetic excuse for a demon. You were a shitty angel too.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, trying to will the thoughts away. He busied himself running his hands through M/C’s hair, carefully untangling any knots he found along the way. Her eyes had closed, letting herself sink into the feeling. There was a gentle smile on her face, and she raised her chin to lean into his touch, leaving her neck completely exposed. Vulnerable. She was allowing herself to be entirely vulnerable with him, a being who could slit her throat in an instant, or tug her hair hard enough to pull her head clean off her body. He felt tears well up in his eyes at her trust, but the thoughts kept coming, taking him back down into that bad place he had been heading for before M/C came to his door.

You’re nothing. She knows you’re nothing, and that’s why she isn’t afraid. Your pact makes you useless, you couldn’t hurt her if you wanted to. You’re a declawed kitten. Pathetic. Why would she want you? She has her pick of suitors in the Devildom, you wouldn’t even make the top-10. She pities you, that’s why she lets you touch her.

M/C had thought it was strange that Asmodeus had been quiet, but she figured he must have been tired, so she wasn’t going to bug him when he was already doing her a favor by calming her down for the night. Truthfully, she had just wanted to see her favorite demon. He had been more withdrawn at home for the last few weeks, spending more nights out at The Fall locking lips with anyone in arm’s reach and chugging demonus like it was water. She was mildly concerned for him. His brothers had said that he got in moods like this sometimes, but at least he wasn’t bringing home a new demon (or demons) every night. M/C wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but she was a little jealous hearing about his past behavior. She knew it was silly, it wasn’t like she even knew him then, and she had no say in what he did in his spare time. It wasn’t like she was a virgin either. Still, Levi had looked at her knowingly when they’d told her, recognizing the envy welling up in her.

She realized that something was wrong when she felt wetness drip onto her cheek.

“Asmo?” M/C opened her eyes, greeted with the most disheveled version of the Avatar of Lust that she’d ever seen. Not that that said much, she rarely saw him with a single hair out of place, but seeing his eyes puffy and tear tracks down his face was enough to seriously concern her. She sat up slowly, reaching to grab his hand from where it had paused in her hair.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” her thumb gently stroked across the back of his hand. Rather than the gesture comforting him, as she’d hoped, he made eye contact only to begin audibly crying. Still unsure what was happening, she pulled herself up onto her knees to face him, bringing her other hand to his face and holding mimicking the motions she was making on the back of his hand along his cheekbone. She tried to keep the movement steady, methodical, to give him something to focus on so he could calm down enough to tell her what was happening. He leaned into her touch, grabbing her hand with his free hand and holding it there like he was scared she’d disappear if he let go. She shushed him quietly, reminding him of her presence whenever he seemed to be retreating into his own head.

Neither of them know how long it was before Asmodeus’s sobbing turned into pathetic little hiccupping, his eyes long since dried out. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them too afraid to drag them back to the present moment. M/C spoke first.

“Can I get you anything? Some water? A washcloth?”

He nodded, avoiding eye contact out of sheer embarrassment and fear of what would happen next. The one thing he didn’t want to happen above all else had happened, and now she was going to steer clear of him. He was sure of it.

Reluctantly, he let go of her hand as she went to his bathroom in search of what he needed. Now alone on his bed, he felt so small and so fragile. He had only known M/C for a very, very small faction of his very, very long existence, but somehow he couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were before he’d met her – especially as she continued to live in the House of Lamentation and develop her relationship with his brothers and the residents of both the Demon Lord’s Castle and Purgatory Hall. He knew she was kind and patient, but all his mind would let him see was her laying under some nondescript body, laughing about how pathetic the fifth-born was as she was pleasured by someone else, letting the world know how weak and inadequate he was. That he was an embarrassment to his title. He would have kept crying at that point, but he wasn’t sure his body even had that much water left. This was going to do such a number on his skin, he’d really need to step up his game with his skincare routine. Going through his plan of attack was enough to focus his mind and calm him down in the few minutes it took M/C to find a drinking glass and a washcloth in his enormous bathroom.

The human handed him the glass, waiting for him to drink half before she took it from his hands to place on his nightstand. She gently wiped his face with the damp cloth, knowing he’d feel better without the salt staining his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so delicate with him, treating him like a valuable rather than something easily replaceable. The thought made his heart hurt, and brought with it a new wave of thoughts about how he wasn’t treated like that because he really wasn’t valuable. That his human was mistaken and she’d know it soon enough. She’d seen the first crack in his façade, it wouldn’t be too long now before she saw the rest.

As she went to get up to place the washcloth back in the bathroom, he made a little noise and grabbed for her hand.

“Asmo, I have to put this away. I’m not going anywhere, I swear, I just don’t want to leave something damp on your bedsheets”.

Reluctantly, he let go, and she went back to the bathroom as quickly as she could. Asmo had always been needy, this wasn’t news to anyone, but rarely had she seen him so desperate. Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, she could see peeks of the Asmodeus he wanted to hide from the world. She knew the fall had been traumatic for all of them, but she wouldn’t pretend to know the extent of that kind of trauma. It wasn’t something that was her place to draw attention to, because no matter how much she loved them she knew that just love wasn’t enough when it came to dealing with something of that gravity. They needed to share at their pace, if they ever felt comfortable sharing at all. All she could do was hope that this was some kind of turning point for him, and that he was ready to be open with her. Well, as open as was healthy. Baby steps, right?

The demon visibly relaxed when she came back towards him. Climbing over him, she laid down on ‘her’ side of the bed as Asmo called it jokingly (it wasn’t a joke but he was pleading the fifth on that question). She made grabby hands, and a relieved Asmodeus rolled into her side, resting his head on her chest and winding an arm around her waist. She set her chin on top of his head and wrapped her arms around him as best she could. She knew he needed to feel completely safe if he was going to talk about whatever had just happened.

The two laid together for a bit, the sounds of the house creaking and his brothers going about their business throughout the house breaking up the quiet in a way that made it palatable. Finally, Asmodeus spoke in a voice lacking all of his usual bravado and charm.

“So, I’m guessing you’d like to know what that was about”.

“If you feel comfortable sharing. I’m here for you, Asmo, you won’t scare me away. You just have to trust me”.

A beat of silence passed before the man took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was definitely going to be a painful conversation on his end.

“I… I’m not sure where to start. You know what they called me in the Celestial Realm, right?”

A nod.

“The Jewel of the Heavens. My face, my body, my charm, it was something our Father truly valued. I was beautiful, and that’s how I earned my keep. I was an ornament. I didn’t mind it much at the time – why would I care when it was nothing but a positive? Even Lucifer loved to show me off, his beautiful little brother. The pride of the Celestial Realm”.

M/C maintained eye contact, not daring to interrupt but wanting to show she was listening. She moved one hand up to stroke his hair, like he had done to her a million times before.

“When we fell… I don’t think there’s any kind of corollary in a human life. I went from an admired figure, praised for my beauty, to nothing when I made the decision to rebel with my brothers and Lilith. I don’t regret my decision, don’t get me wrong, Lilith was one of the most wonderful beings I’ve met in my life. I still miss her even now”.

The demon broke eye contact, trying to hide the quiver in his voice as he thought of his dead sister. The pain of that kind of loss never actually goes away and it’s harder some days.

“The point is, as a result of that decision, I lost everything that I knew about myself. By the end of the war, I was covered in big, ugly scars, stripped of my status as an angel and turned into a demon - a being that I had been told since I was created was inherently evil, wrong, and unlovable. It took me years before I could look at myself in a mirror again. I wasn’t Asmodeus, Jewel of the Heavens. I was Asmodeus, a vile, unlovable Thing. I had to feel something again, I had to be someone again. That’s how I ended up like this – I found a way I could feel loved again, even if just for a night”.

Or, he thought to himself, more often an hour in a nightclub bathroom.

He continued speaking, too scared to look up at his human’s eyes and see disgust or contempt in them.

“I will never be the me I was again. Never. Even thousands of years later that isn’t something I’ve fully come to terms with yet. I feel broken and wrong. On good days I really do mean what I say – that I’m beautiful, irresistible, absolutely perfect in every way”.

His voice took on a lilt and a small smile twisted the corner of his mouth as he remembered the feeling of power that comes with his moments of genuine confidence. However, as he began again, his voice sounded unsure again and so very small.

“On bad days, it’s all I can do to get out of bed. If I’m not beautiful, if I’m not wanted, what’s the point? What’s the point of any of this? Sometimes, when I make them chase me, when I let them put their hands on me, I feel like I’m wanted. Just for a little while, and that’s enough. What more could I ask for? After all, I’m not Mammon, can’t get too greedy”.

He tacked on a joke at the end, complete with a clearly forced laugh, trying to lighten the atmosphere that had settled over his room. He felt M/C press her lips to the crown of his head, still stroking his hair softly. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, and she knew she had to be careful with the next thing out of her mouth.

“Asmodeus, you are worth so much. To so many people. To your brothers, to all of our friends, to me. I’m so proud of you for sharing that with me, it can’t have been easy”.

As she looked down, seeking his eyes, the demon saw only compassion in those eyes. It was a strange sight for him, and it made him feel something inside that he knew he had felt before, but he couldn’t quite remember when. It felt like there were butterflies in his stomach. There was some tension between them. Though it had an element of lust, it was moreso the unidentified emotion. He didn’t know what to do about that, so he decided to go with what he knew best- lust. Acting on muscle memory, he reached up to pull M/C’s head down to his. Surprised by Asmo pulling her down into a kiss when moments before he had been so vulnerable, M/C gasped and froze, allowing her pactmate to gain the upper hand.

The kiss was hungry and desperate from the start, definitely not how she imagined their first kiss beyond a casual peck on the lips, but it felt too good for her to dwell on that for long. With his tongue exploring her mouth he moved from his spot curled up on her side to get completely on top, pinning her in place. He held her wrists firmly above her head and his knees kept her thighs in place. His grip on her was somehow delicate and firm at the same time. The two let out little moans and pants between kisses, each losing themselves in the feeling of the other’s clothed body on their own. When Asmodeus separated their mouths, she followed his lips as far as she could, needing more. He shot her a look as though telling her to stay put, and she obeyed. His eyes were blown wide, glowing like a sunset. It was more out of habit than anything else since they knew his charm did nothing to her but it was undeniably beautiful.

The demon traced down her neck with messy kisses. If he weren’t a demon, she’d think he seemed like a man possessed. Between little nibbles and sucking, he panted out everything he was thinking, as if speaking it into her skin would make it so. When she concentrated, she could make out some of what he was saying over and over, almost like a prayer.

“I’ll be so good for you. I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t regret this. This will make you love me, I know it”.

She didn’t like to use her pact, but he was too lost in her body to listen if she asked nicely and his grip was too strong for her to break.

“Asmodeus, stop”.

He froze, a confused and hurt look on his face.

“Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes glowed brighter, as if subconsciously trying to fix whatever mistake he had made.

“Let go of me”. She tried to keep her voice even and maintain eye contact. She wanted to convey that she wasn’t upset, but he was clearly panicking inside his head.

The demon released her wrists, placing them on his own thighs. He tried to look away, ashamed, but the human gently directed his gaze back to her with a finger on his chin. She sat up against the pillows, trying to seem as serious as she could with disheveled clothing and red marks blooming all over her neck.

“Do you think that this is out of pity?” She desperately hoped that she had been reading into it too much, that he knew what she had been afraid to say. Her fears were confirmed when he cast his eyes downward and to the side, staring into space rather than meeting her eyes.

“Asmodeus, I can’t possibly imagine what you went through. You are so strong for going through that and still managing to be the funny, caring, genuine person that I know. What I do have some experience with is needing to feel wanted so badly that I’d let people touch me even when I wanted nothing more than for them to stop. I also know how absolutely garbage it feels when it’s over and they leave without so much as another word, I would just feel so used”. M/C’s eyes teared up as she remembered the feeling, but she blinked them away, willing herself to focus on the man in front of her.

“I never, ever want you to feel that way again. Not if I can help it. I love you, Asmodeus. Let me show you how much”.

A smile finally crossing his lips, albeit a small one, Asmo nodded. This time it was the human who brought their lips together, though their kiss was just as passionate as before. She caught the demon by surprise, rolling them over so she was the one pinning him to the bed. He looked up at M/C with pure adoration in his eyes, electrified by the love he saw reflected in hers and the lust he felt emanating from her soul. Finally confident that they were on the same page, M/C poured all of the affection she could into every touch, every kiss. She felt his hands travel up from their place on her waist to cup her breasts through her pajama shirt, moaning at his touch. Her sounds spurred him on, letting him regain some of his confidence. If there was one thing he knew he was an expert on, it was pleasure. He played with her nipples through her clothing and treasured every noise he was able to pull from her. Each gasp, every sigh, just emboldened him more. By the time he had stripped her of her top, he was fully in his element.

“Asmo”, she begged, “please, let me touch you too”.

She shifted her weight back onto her knees to make room for her demon to get out from under her. Readjusting so they laid side-by-side facing each other, they took the moment to stare into each other’s eyes. M/C’s smile was contagious, and Asmodeus couldn’t help but smile back. She hadn’t even touched him yet and she was already better than his fantasies. He hadn’t dared to let himself imagine her loving him, and he was going to treasure every second he got with her.

Her shaking hands made their way from his abdomen up to his chest, tweaking his nipples just to hear the noise he’d make before she got to work unbuttoning his pajama shirt. The more she teased him with brief touches, the more he squirmed for her. He was this close to ripping it off himself, and he really liked this pj set - he thought it brought out his eyes. Before he could finish deciding if it was worth popping the buttons off and maybe even a few seams, he felt the soft skin of the other’s hands finally trail up and down his torso. The demon made a noise almost like a purr, reminding M/C of his inhumanity in a thrilling way.

“Touch me”, it came out more as a breathy whisper than a demand, but she listened all the same.

Leaning over him to kiss down his neck and chest, the human used one hand to support her weight near his head and the other to trail down his body, stopping to cup his growing erection through his pants. An unexpectedly loud moan cut the air as she bit gently down on his nipple and began to stroke his cock.

“Shhh baby”, she said in a voice he’d never heard from her before, “You don’t want your brothers hearing and coming in here to stop us, do you?”. It was only then that he remembered he hadn’t locked his door earlier. From the grin spreading across her face as she looked towards the door, she knew it too. Asmo had never seen her look more mischievous in the whole time he’d known her and he was living for it. He was pretty sure he was witnessing the creation of a monster and he had no regrets, except that they hadn’t done this sooner.

Taking his silence for agreement, she got up only to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed. She motioned for him to sit up and strip, which he did gladly. She took in the sight of his cock hungrily, eyes glazed over imagining what it would feel like in her pussy. He had seen that look many times and knew exactly what was going through her mind. Still, if he didn’t tease, would he even be Asmo?

With his bottoms thrown towards his laundry hamper, he spread his legs enticingly and grabbed the base of his cock. He stroked himself slowly, seeing M/C’s eyes fixate on a drop of precome on the head.

“Do you like what you see, my dear?” She could hear the grin in his voice. It was comforting to hear him sound like his usual confident self again.

“Very much”. Her hands began to rub along his thighs, appreciating the lean muscle she felt underneath her fingertips. “Can I taste you?”

“I thought you’d never ask, darling. Show me how you worship me in your daydreams”.

Her face lit up bright red. He couldn’t know, could he? He was just guessing, it was just dirty talk… right?

Swallowing the embarrassment she felt at the idea that Asmo knew the content of her fantasies, she began to rub soothing circles into his skin and kiss up and down his inner thighs.

“Oh sweetheart, I know you do more than that in those dreams of yours. How about you keep going, and you let me know if any of this rings a bell”. At this she began nipping at his skin every few kisses, soothing over any bites she made with her tongue.

“Let’s see, I think one of my favorites so far was in the library the other day. It was you, me, Satan, and Levi studying for the upcoming Seductive Speechcraft exam. About the time we were doing our individual reading, I recall you having some particularly interesting ideas. How did it start again?”

Her hand replaced his own stroking him, placing gentle kisses on his balls. She didn’t want this to end too soon and, honestly, she was curious if he actually did know what she had been thinking or if he just picked up on her getting horny that day and was trying to mess with her.

“Ah, yes”, his breath hitched as she dragged her tongue up the length of his dick, swirling around his head, only to kiss back down his shaft. “We were studying together, the same four of us that were actually there, but Levi and Satan got up to get a snack for us all. Once they left, I turned to you and told you how beautiful you looked”.

M/C’s hand sped up, and she leaned down to start sucking on the tip of his cock, keeping a steady pressure, and feeling proud at the flush in his cheeks. Slowly, she began to take him inch by inch in her mouth.

“I think after some flirting it took a rather raunchy turn, so let’s skip to the good part. I distinctly remember you dreaming of me sticking my hand down your panties and fingering you open, whispering sweet nothings to you the whole time”. M/C’s moan was muffled by the dick halfway down her throat, sending vibrations up Asmo’s cock. The sound of pleasure he made in response caused her to rub her thighs together, her own arousal obvious.

“What happened next? I think I lost my train of thought..”. M/C had gone down on him as far as she could, her nose nestled in the well-trimmed pubic hair on his pelvis. Asmodeus threaded his hand through her hair, pulling it up into a makeshift handle. She moaned, knowing what was about to happen. Asmo giggled, appreciating how eager she was for him to use her.

“That’s right”, he stared down at the woman with hooded eyes and his cocky grin, clearly back in his element, “you begged me to fuck your face”. Gripping her hair, he pulled back and thrust back into her mouth, hard. He let out a delighted gasp as her throat constricted around his dick.

“Darling, you feel so good, you’re such a good girl for me”, M/C’s eyes rolled back at the praise and as Asmo picked up the pace of his hips, she could do nothing but relax into his grip and let him use her. As his hips stuttered, she could feel him approaching his orgasm. Asmodeus made the most erotic sound the human had ever heard as he pulled her face flush to his body and released down her throat. M/C quickly swallowed, eager for more of him. He panted gently as he came down, relaxing his grip and transitioning to slowly smoothing her hair. The pair sat there for a moment to catch their breath.

“Holy shit”, M/C was the first to break the silence.

“Holy shit is right”, Asmodeus replied with a hungry grin. He reached a hand down to pull M/C up from her knees and into his lap. The two embraced, and Asmodeus felt himself hardening again at how he could taste himself on her tongue.

“Your turn now, sweetheart”, the demon cooed. Before M/C could say a word, the world spun and suddenly Asmodeus was laying on the bed and she found herself on her knees above his face. He licked his lips in anticipation before lowering her onto his face.

Maybe it was a demon thing, or maybe it was an Asmodeus thing, but the way his tongue moved on her clit and between her labia was like nothing she had experienced before. His mouth was hot, and wet, and almost electrifying as it managed to pinpoint her every weak spot. Every time she ground her hips into his face, embracing pleasure instead of running from it like she had with so many other men before him, he rewarded her with a moan, sending vibrations up into her body. The closer that M/C got to the edge, the harder she pulled on his soft curls, forgetting her own taunts about his brothers hearing and getting progressively louder. She came with a desperate cry of his name, squirting onto his face, which the demon excitedly lapped up with his tongue. M/C rolled off of his face and flopped bonelessly onto the bed. Asmodeus wasted no time climbing on top of her and bringing their lips together yet again, this time with a ferocity she had only imagined in her most erotic dreams. The feeling of his hard cock on the soft skin of her thigh made them both shiver in anticipation.

“Are you ready for me?” Asmodeus began, “I meant it before when I said I’d make it good for you. I want to make you cum harder than you’ve ever cum before”.

“Well,” M/C said breathlessly, “mission accomplished”.

“Oh honey,” the demon laughed and his eyes began to glow again, “you have no idea what I’m capable of”.

Let me know what you guys thought! I’m going to write a second part if there’s interest. Cross-posted to AO3 with the same username. Thanks for reading <3