#it's the judging other people thing. the normie who tries their best to be normal all the time

[moinsbienquekaworu]

There's these girls in my year - and I try not to judge people based on if they put makeup on or whatever because like, judging other women for their hobbies and appearance is shitty and we're trying to be good people here, but by god do I want to punch them. Every time I hear them talk I have to remind myself that even though some people are annoying and make me want to hit them it does not actually matter, but by god, by god.... Shitting on the one good invested professor we have this year ("god do we have her this time? The one who dressed up for class? Cringe"), the way they speak, the fact they keep mentioning fanfiction but they don't mean like, weird little fandom stuff, just shitty copy pasted wattpad straight love triangles with the BTS or whatever... Punchable punchable punchable punchable. These girls were popular in middle and high school. They keep being annoying about fanfic but in The normiest way I have ever seen. They would have talked in my back and if I showed them a Snarry fic they would explode.

[absolutepokemontrash]

Hi! So, I absolutely love your series where the MC is the kid of Lucifer, and I was wondering if I could request that with Diavolo and Barbatos? •v•

:0 you definitely can! Right now I’m just doing Diavolo, but Barb’s will be up sometime soon!

MC is Half Demon and Oh Shit They’re Diavolo’s Kid-

Diavolo wasn’t exactly what one would expect of the prince of Hell, I mean, he was suppressing the urge to bounce in his seat from pure excitement. I mean, his exchange program was starting! Humans, demons, and angels, all together, his dream was coming true.

All that was left was for the student to arrive, the portal opened, and the human fell flat on their back. Oof, maybe Diavolo should have set up some kind of landing zone filled with pillows. No matter! The human was-

…

What peculiar eyes this human had…

Oh… oh dear…

Dad-volo

The MC was his child, no question about it. This was… very unexpected. Well, the entire assembly hall was completely quiet, and the kid looked like they were getting impatient.

“HEY! Mind telling me what the hell is going on?!”

After that, Diavolo launches into his explanation, also the explanation that he’s definitely this kid’s dad. Kid was not impressed, they tried to square up with Diavolo and Lucifer had never been more confused as to what to do.

Well, the moment MC sprouted wings and launched themselves at Diavolo, Dia caught them with one hand and continued speaking like nothing happened.

MC, please calm down… Diavolo didn’t know they existed, let him make it up to them! They’re going to stay at the Demon Lord’s Castle! Dia’s going to be a good dad!

“This feels like the plot to the world’s most messed up fairytale.” MC jammed their hands into their pockets and grumbled. “I get sucked into hell and find out I’m royalty there. Great.”

Diavolo managed to smile and awkwardly reach out to give them a pat on the head, then retracted his hand after the kid shot him a glare. “Well, it’s not a very traditional fairytale, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“Mm, sure.” MC mumbled.

Okay, so his child wasn’t that enthusiastic about the exchange program, but Diavolo was sure they’d come around.

Dia tried everything he could possibly think of to get his kid to both like him and enjoy their time as an exchange student. A lot of things had… mixed results.

Also, legally recognizing MC as his child and legitimizing them caused a big stink amongst the nobles who were opposed to the exchange program to begin with. So MC then had to deal with a few assassins. Wonderful. Fantastic. Show stopping. Dia, be a good dad and comfort your angsty murder target- I MEAN preteen.

They do manage to build a good relationship fairly quickly despite their less than stellar first impressions, and Diavolo made them a promise that he knew he wouldn’t ever break: he would let them live as normal a childhood as possible.

This means that MC gets to do all the normal kid stuff that Diavolo wasn’t allowed to do. It honestly works out great for everyone. MC gets to live their life, Diavolo gets the satisfaction of knowing that his kid’s having fun, and Barbatos doesn’t need to worry about MC causing chaos in the castle.

Man… does this kid’s magic potential scare the shit out of everyone though…

Tired Uncle Lucifer

No. This has to be a violation of his worker rights. It cannot be legal for him to be this stressed.

He knew this exchange program was a bad idea. LUCIFER FUCKING KNEW IT. This kid was judging him. Why did he suddenly feel self conscious about every single one of his features? This child was picking him apart and they hadn’t even said anything!

He confiscated Asmo’s phone immediately, this was a matter of national security! Satan’s too! Beel as- oh shit Lucifer may have to give Beel the heimlich maneuver, then take his phone.

When all the brothers eventually got back to the HOL, they were greeted with Mammon getting shaken down by Levi.

“Lucifer! Ya won’t believe this! Levi- what’s wrong with you?” “The exchange student is Diavolo’s child.” “What..?” “*pops the cork off a bottle of Demonus* the exchange student’s Diavolo’s child.”

The worst part about this kid was that they took to the privileges of being royalty like a fish to water. MC went out and did whatever the fuck they wanted, and Lucifer needed to make sure a state of national emergency wasn’t called just because MC picked a fight at RAD.

It didn’t help that MC was just so unimpressed with Lucifer. Anytime Lucifer would tell them not to do something they would just raise their eyebrows and challenge his authority without saying a word.

What the fuck.jpg

The things he does for his prince boyfriend…

Cool Uncle Mammon

Huh, so this little pipsqueak is Lord Diavolo‘s kid? Hm, do ya think they’d let him into the royal treasury? No? Okay… lame.

Mammon then decides this kid would be just perfect for scamming people! Who is going to say no to the Crown Prince’s kid? A suicidal person, that’s who!

And the kid is… up for it? Wow, Mammon didn’t even have to grovel! Awesome!

It’s such a shame that Lucifer came in and promptly removed MC from Mammon’s presence. Tsk, killjoy…

Mammon and MC do get along swimmingly after MC stops angsting. Whenever they hang out it’s pure chaos.

And they would have gotten away with it too- wait, they do get away with it. Because who’s going to question the Crown Prince’s kid? >:)

Reclusive Uncle Leviathan

Levi was in the middle of throttling Mammon for his money back when Lucifer burst through the door looking like he had spent over 1000 Grimm on a gacha game only to not get the card he wanted.

And where was that human he said would be staying with them? Huh? The human’s HUH????!!!!

… wack. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped out on that Student Council Meeting…

Either way, ew, new person he needed to talk to. NO THANKS. Well, no thanks until MC started to visit the HOL to hang out with Mammon. Of course those two normies decided to bug him. OF COURSE.

Levi finally snapped when MC loudly proclaimed that they could totally beat Levi in Mario Kart. Haha, NO. Levi challenged the little runt to a 1 v 1 race on Rainbow Road.

Kid lost. Obviously. Rainbow Road is rigged.

Honestly, kid’s alright. Still a total normie, but not completely terrible.

Cat Uncle Satan

Huh, a half human child of the soon to be demon king, how very interesting.

Oh, and just look at Lucifer’s face. :D priceless. Satan wished he was fast enough to get his DDD out to snap a picture, but he wasn’t able to…

But back to MC, oh how very intriguing. How much power do they have in comparison to Diavolo? Will using that power rip their fragile little body apart? Would they learn to control it? Satan was just dying to find out.

His feelings on the child themselves were mixed at best. They were clearly unhappy with the situation and Satan could sympathize, being thrust into a completely new world and then being told you can’t leave and are also royalty? That has to be hard. But this kid was still being an unreasonable little shit.

Satan continued to try and study MC from afar until the kid themselves walked right up to him and half demanded half pleaded for his help in studying for a test.

Not being one to avoid an opportunity to flex how smart he is, Satan agreed to help out. (Nerrrrd)

And honestly, it went well. When the kid wasn’t being a little shit, they were actually quite pleasant to be around.

Overly Affectionate Uncle Asmo

…wut

Listen, when Asmo asked Lucifer to pick a cute human, he didn’t mean cute as in CHILD.

This kid was DIAVOLO’S?! What lucky human had gotten to have the experience of [Jesus Fucking Christ, Asmo I’m not writing what he said for the sake of the nation]

Anyhoo~ little MC just made his heart go “SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SO CUTE!” They were so cute Asmo could just eat them up!

But they were so mean! That scowl they always had on was going to give them wrinkles and ruin their perfectly cute face!

Sigh, oh well. He can’t manually rearrange people’s expressions. What he can do is take this child shopping. Poor Diavolo was constantly in his RAD uniform, this poor innocent baby shouldn’t have to suffer the same fate.

The kid continued to scowl at everything, but at the same time, their little quips were very entertaining. This little kid spitting verbal venom at anyone who displeased them reminded Asmo of someone… he just couldn’t place who, but they definitely had amazing hair and a cute face :3

Hungry Uncle Beel

Where’s the takeout- I mean human? What’s happening? …are all humans this small? Dang, that’s barely enough for a snack.

So the human’s not going to live with us because they’re not fully human and Diavolo’s kid? Huh. Wild. Anyway, what’s for dinner?

Beel’s not too invested in this drama, he misses Belphie too much to be that interested…

The kid’s weirdly interested in how cool and strong Beel is though. MC tails him to the gym pretty often.

Diavolo and Beel already being gym buddies send tweet-

Since this benevolent little shit likes Beel so much, they decided to take it upon themselves to help with the family drama.

Beel finds that very sweet 🥺

Murder sleepy Uncle Belphie

Oh man… if you thought Belphie was being unfair to L!MC due to their parentage… hoo boy…

When this kid waltzed up the attic steps like they ran the place, Belphie needed to hold himself back from trying to break down the door and throttle this kid.

Pff, of course Diavolo would have a half human kid. Of course.

…kid beat the shit out of him when he tried to kill them. We stan this MC.

After all is said and done, Belphie still isn’t overly fond of MC. They’re brash and rude and only funny 40% of the time. They don’t even like napping 😒

But Beel likes the little runt, so Belphie and MC put up with each other.

Bonus! Your Angelic Uncle Simeon’s Chihuahua

:0 friend!

MC: *speaks*

>:0 not friend! Begone! *throws crucifix*

[leviathanswingman]

Touch Up; Solomon/Asmodeus

TW: eating disorders, body image issues

Asmodeus was lounging on the couch, lost in thought in the middle of flipping through a fashion magazine as he felt the most peculiar feeling. It was uncanny, an unbearable tickling filling him from head to toe, prickling almost to a painful degree.

Almost immediately, he knew he had been hit by a magic spell. Although judging from the way he was feeling right now, he could safely say that the culprit hadn't been Solomon. He had been spelled by him a couple of times already, and could safely say that Solomon's magic felt entirely different after all, more intoxicating and not this clumsy. The spell Asmodeus had just been hit by gave him the impression of a toddler taking its first shaky steps.

He sighed deeply as he put down the magazine, stopping dead in his tracks as his gaze fell upon his hands. Instead of seeing slender hands with perfectly manicured nails, he was now faced with slightly more pale, rougher hands, the purple nail polish that was decorating his nails chipping away roughly.

„What in the,“ Asmo mumbled as he rushed towards his full body mirror. What he then saw choked the air out of his lungs.

The only thing that had remained closest to its original form was his face. His body however, had been badly compromised.

Asmodeus studied himself with wide eyes. Going off the clothes he was now wearing, there was no mistaking it. Whoever had hexed him had put him in Leviathan's body, switched out like someone had ripped off the head of a mattel doll and sloppily glued it onto a no brand barbie's body.

„This can't be,“ he muttered in terror. A certain kind of anxiety took a hold of him, heavy and dark, weighing him down so much more intensely than his own occasional bouts of panic would do. His heart was beating up to his chest as shaking fingers travelled over that body that wasn't his, taking note of dry hands, gangly limbs and ripped abs.

Not that Leviathan had a bad body, he was surprisingly ripped for a hikkikomori, and after all, Asmodeus had no problem finding beauty in any kind of body, no matter the shape or form. However, even though he knew how hypocritical it sounded, Asmo couldn't apply those principles to his own self.

As the demon of lust, he was known across Devildom as the most perfect demon to walk the grounds. So to maintain this title, he was stuck in a circle of strict training regimens, daily weigh-ins and caloric restriction to keep up this unattainable perfection. Asmodeus stuck to the perfect calculations of a weight slightly below average, followed by immense guilt and shame whenever it surpassed a certain point. After all, he knew everyone desired him the most when he looked tiny and dainty.

For the majority of his life he had believed otherwise, had clung to the assumption that he would be loved, no matter what, but after a certain incident, his mind had been reset.

The imagine in the mirror looked disturbed to him. Sharp collarbones and slender hands with small wrists, a slightly protruding ribcage and soft yet firm muscles were nowhere to be seen. Asmodeus could practically feel his self worth going down the drain. Everything he had worked for so passionately and desperately was gone. How could people love him when he wasn't the poster child of perfection?

With shuddering breaths, he touched his face, his imagination already painting pictures of decaying skin and rotting teeth.

He stayed like that for a minute, just staring at that version of himself in the mirror, so common yet so painful.

Then, he suddenly heard noise coming from the common room. He took a deep breath, picked himself up and headed towards the door. Considering the fact that he himself had changed so drastically, it was quite logical to assume that he wasn't the only person this had happened to. In the least, Leviathan had to be compromised as well, judging by the fact that Asmo was currently residing in his body.

Before he could even reach the common room he already heard his brother's voices overlapping in a chaotic chorus.

As he entered the room, the first thing he saw was Yuuta trying to calm down his brothers. They all looked incredibly messy.

Mammon was clad in Lucifer's clothing, his body looking more broad and less lanky, looking incredibly inappropriate. He was currently arguing with Satan, whose body had apparently been switched with Asmo's. Levi, sporting Satan's ugly lime green sweater was eyeing the books on the shelves with an uncharacteristic sort of interest.

Asmodeus turned his head, looking for the rest of his brothers. Beelzebub and Belphegor were sitting next to each other in comfortable silence, observing the room, their bodies switched out as well. They seemed to be dealing with this strange situation the best.

Yuuta was standing in the middle of the room as he cleared his throat nervously, looking properly ashamed. “Guys!” he brought out, his voice cracking slightly. “Ahem, guys,” he repeated himself, this time with a sturdier voice. “So I don't really know too much about what happened, but it's my fault, I'm so sorry! Solomon taught me a spell which was supposed to make you switch bodies with the person in front of you.” He worried his lip as his eyes darted from brother to brother. It didn't really work out the way it was supposed to, I'm really sorry.”

Satan sighed in slight annoyance. “It is what it is. Nothing much we can do about it now, so don't feel too bad. Speaking of feeling bad though, shouldn't he feel more guilty?” Satan pointed his finger in the direction of the accused. “Solomon, why did you go ahead and teach Yuuta something like that? Such a spell practically begs for trouble.”

Sitting on one of the couches, one leg crossed over the other, Solomon chuckled quietly. “Hmm, you could say I did it out of  childish curiosity. Anyway, I didn't expect it to turn out like this either. What an an interesting development.”

“I just want my own body back, FML!” Levi cried, looking decently uncomfortable. “Lucifer, fix this please!”

Lucifer, who had just entered the room, not perplexed in the slightest, looking completely out of place in Mammon's bad boy attire, crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side in exasperation. “Levi, I can't just snap my fingers and fix everything. Besides, I already attempted to reverse the spell. It did not work.”

“Huh?!”

“Even Lucifer can't fix it? Then it's that serious?!”

Leviathan pulled at the edges of that horrid lime green sweater which, in Asmo's humble opinion, deserved to be burnt to the prettiest pile of ashes. “Man, this dumb normie sweater is so itchy! I think I need to- Huh?!” Levi stopped in his tracks, pulling at the sweater once again. “ Stupid piece of crap! I can't take it off!”

Lucifer sighed once again. “At least that gives me some kind of reassurance that none of you will cause the bodies any harm.” For one reason or another, Lucifer's gaze was locked on Mammon as he mentioned this.

Asmodeus pulled on one of his sleeves testingly. The fabric really did not budge.

His heart was still racing to his chest and he could feel cold sweat running down the small of his back. In a state like his current one, he couldn't help feeling unclean, dirty.  All he wanted to do was lose himself in the routine of his facial care or the familiar warmth of a bath until he felt perfect and pure again. Then suddenly, realization hit him.

“Wait a sec,does that mean I won't be able to take a bath? There's no way I'm taking one with my clothes on. This hoodie is so heavy, I'd probably drown in it anyway,” Asmo ranted, throwing  himself onto the couch next to Solomon in a moody little fit. “How much more cruel can life get?”

As he sat down he shuffled uncomfortably. He was hyper aware of the feeling of his stomach when he was sitting down and it made him nauseous to the core. Subconsciously, his fingers wrapped around his wrist, measuring the width of it, checking whether his thumb and his pointer could touch.

Instead of sitting normally, Asmo changed his position and leaned against Solomon instead, his body sprawled partially over the couch and partially over Solomon's body.

Lucifer watched his little brother and cleared his throat with a raised eyebrow. At this point, Asmodeus was pretty sure Lucifer had caught on to the fact that there was something going on between Asmodeus and Solomon, but was kind enough to not ask about it. Even if he did ask about it, Asmodeus probably wouldn't know what to say. His relationship to Solomon was special and not easily definable.

“That leaves us no other choice.” Lucifer's eye twitched slightly. “Solomon, if you're not too busy putting your hands all over my little brother, would you mind telling us if there's a counter spell you could use?” he asked as he was tapping his foot on the ground impatiently .

Solomon smiled at Lucifer as he threw his arm around Asmo's shoulders and inched even closer, that challenging smile still on his face. “There is no counter spell, I've already tried everything I could.”

In response, Lucifer's finger's twitched in warning as a dark look crossed over his face. Although surprisingly, he kept quiet in face of Solomon's obvious teasing.

Sensing the weird atmosphere, Yuuta quickly cut in. “Isn't there any other way for them to get their normal bodies back?” he asked Solomon.

For a moment, Solomon simply sat there, thinking about the possibilities they had. ”A way to return everyone back to their normal selves...” he mused. “The best option would be to let those affected know that you care for them, no matter how much their bodies and personalities may have been temporarily altered. In this case, honesty is key. If you lie it won't undo the spell.”

Lucifer nodded his head in understanding. “So what you're saying is that we have to convey our true feelings? That sounds simple enough.”

Asmodeus perked up, his head shortly lifting off Solomon's shoulder. “Oooooh! It sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale,” he gushed half-heartedly. He had spent the last five minutes of their conversation slowly and inconspicuously slouching lower and lower until his head laid on Solomon's chest, listening to his heartbeat. It helped distract him from his own mind when he listened to the rhythmic thumping. To his brothers, it would just look like he was being clingy, which was nothing new for them. After all, in the same way that Asmodeus attracted attention, he was also suspiciously good at evading it.

Belphie rolled back his shoulders to ease any sore muscles, apparently not tired for once. “As long as it's not too much of a hassle. Let's all give it a try.”

For a moment, silence filled the room and the brothers eyed each other awkwardly. “Yeahhh, no. I don't think that's' gonna happen,” Mammon threw in and Beel nodded.

“I don't think we're capable of expressing stuff like that, I agree with Mammon.”

“I don't know if I can agree with you two,” Asmodeus threw in. “But I think someone in this room certainly cares enough about us to be fitting for the job.”

The room was filled with silence as most of their gazes shot to Yuuta. Solomon was busy checking his fingernails as the brothers sat there in momentary awkward silence.

“Why is everyone looking at me?!” Yuuta panicked. “Stop looking at me like-” he paused and then pointed at his chest, eyebrows lifted high. “Do you mean me??”

Asmodeus made finger guns towards him. “Bingo, it's you! It's safe to say that we're all counting on you to break the spell!”

They all started talking all over each other again until Lucifer announced that the first turn would be his. He lead Yuuta out of the room, his hand hovering inches apart from Yuuta's back, both of them looking quite uncomfortable.

“Damn, I would pay good money to see this,” Mammon drawled as he leaned against the door frame, looking after the two. “Lucifer better not try to do anything dirty to my dearest Yuuta!”

Picking up a book and putting it down almost immediately after, Satan chuckled. “There's no one more emotionally repressed than these two. I can ensure you that the only thing happening over there will be awkward small talk. Anyway, I don't feel like wasting my time waiting, so I'm heading out.” He waved with one hand as he left the room.

Slowly but surely, they all trickled out of the room, minding their own business.

In the end, Asmodeus and Solomon were the only people left. A heavy sigh left Asmo's lips as he snuggled against Solomon for a moment more, taking comfort in his warmth.

“Will you now tell me what's been bothering you?” Solomon eventually asked as he slowly let his fingers run through Asmodeus' hair.

The demon went stiff in his arms and suddenly sprung up. “You're imagining things!” he quickly brought out, turning his back to Solomon. “There really is nothing wrong with me, I just remembered I need to be somewhere, that's all!” he yapped on before turning around for a second, flashing Solomon a blinding, yet obviously put on smile. “I have never been better!”

“Asmod-” Solomon started, but Asmo had already bolted out of the room.

Although Asmodeus was dazzling in person and character, he was a terrible liar, had always been one and would always stay one.

Perhaps, Solomon had grown used to the demon after having spent so much time with him, had grown used to deciphering the hidden messages which were out in plain sight and had learned to figure out Asmodeus' true character, not the persona he put up so effortlessly.

After all, he could tell that Asmodeus was not coping well. He had been twitchy and on guard ever since the spell had gone backwards, a state that seemed rather unusual for him.

With all of their bodies and possibly also parts of their personalities swapped, Solomon knew he wouldn't find Asmodeus at one of his usual spots. He had to find him though. Solomon reached inside his pocket and pulled out his spell book. Of course, he could just summon Asmodeus through their pact, but something told him that that wouldn't be the correct approach at the moment. He flipped through the pages, looking for the tracking spell he knew had to be in there.

After having fled so cowardly, Asmodeus found himself taking refuge in Levi's room. He couldn't tell what had led him there, but he found himself feeling slightly less panicked over there, alone and encased by four stony walls, the room softly illuminated by the giant aquarium. Pulled over his head was the thickest blanket he could find, bringing him a childish sense of security. He tried not to think as he trembled under the weight of his thoughts.

If there was one thing he couldn't deal with, it was his emotions. Usually, he'd carefully repress them, wouldn't think about them on purpose and lose himself in the safety of a warm body worshipping him. Now, that safety had been taken from him, mixed in with Levi's feeble state of mind, forming a whirlwind of disaster.

Without thinking, Asmo grabbed a controller that was near him on the ground and switched on one of Levi's consoles, almost as if he'd been doing this for all his life. Mindlessly, he started playing a game which didn't require too much attention, thankful for the distraction.

After a while, he heard footsteps behind him and paused the game, pulling the blanket further over his head as he took his knees closer to his body. Maybe if he stayed like this the intruder would mistake him for a rock or a gigantic pillow and just leave him be. All of a sudden, he felt someone touch the blanket on his head, hand resting there before the person stepped around Asmo's body.

The first thing Asmo saw were boots, followed by legs clad in their school uniform. Then, the person kneeled down in front of him, hands grabbing either side of the blanket that had been framing Asmodeus' head.

“I think we both interpret 'there's nothing wrong' in different ways,” Solomon said as he stared at Asmodeus' face. “You look like there's plenty of things wrong, so don't fault me for being worried.” Carefully, he placed his hand on Asmo's cheek, only for Asmodeus to turn his head away from it.

“Stop it with the act,” he mumbled, letting go of the blanket and hugging himself tightly before dropping his hands quickly down onto his lap. “I'm disgusting, aren't I? It must take you so much effort to even look at me. I wish nobody could see me like this, I'm a nightmare!” he forced out, limbs trembling as he shook his head. “See?! How can I live looking like this! I am the Avatar of Lust, and look at me! I am not perfect, my skin is breaking out and my hands are dry! I am the definition of a disaster! How could people ever love me when I'm not the picture of perfection? I worked fucking hard to have the perfect weight, the most agreeable personality and the most alluring of presences. No one can lift the spell when I'm like this! Everyone-”

Solomon inched closer as he shushed Asmodeus, eyebrows drawn together. “No one will think of you any different. Your emotions are being negatively influenced right now since you are in Leviathan's body. If you would just-”

Terror was painted on Asmo's face. “If I would do what? What, if I would just calm down everything will be alright? Is that what you're trying to say?” A dry laugh escaped his lips as he tilted  his head backwards, staring at the ceiling. He took in a shuddering breath to calm himself. “Do you know what happened the last time I got sidetracked and let myself go a bit?” he asked, his lips trembling. “It was all over the tabloids. The whole thing was more of a scandal than that one  time someone had secretly taken a photo of Lucifer sneaking into Diavolo's chambers late at night. All the magazines were all over me, saying the same thing over and over. Asmodeus is losing his charm! The Avatar of Lust has gained weight! Asmodeus is looking more healthy and less thin these days?!” A tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it away furiously. “ There's no pleasing them, no matter what I do I am not enough. So excuse me if I can't believe you when you say blatant lies like you're worried about me. I've learned and I now know better. People love me for my body and that's it. They see what I want them to see and whatever's left just doesn't matter in the end.”

Solomon gripped Asmodeus' face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Asmodeus blinked back at him out of teary eyes.

“Look at me, Asmodeus. We are in a pact, aren't we?”

“Y-yes.”

“And you know me. Would I form a pact out of grossly superficial ulterior motives?” Solomon asked bluntly.

Slowly, Asmodeus shook his head. “You would never do that,” he muttered as Solomon started to stroke his cheek. Subconsciously, Asmo leaned in to the touch.

“You're right. After all, I formed a pact with you because you are powerful and dangerous. The way you look couldn't bother me any less. You are charming and you elude the most alluring of energies, that's why I find you so irresistible. What other people say does not matter, they don't know you like I do,” he said firmly. “They don't need you like I do.”

In the blink of an eye Asmodeus threw his arms around Solomon, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Wet tears started to stain Solomon's clothes, yet he remained in place, putting his arms around Asmodeus as a soft light started to surround them and the spell finally lifted itself.

“There, there,” Solomon mumbled as he softly let his fingers run through Asmo's hair. For several minutes the demon didn't move an inch. He simply took solace in the comfort of Solomon's body. Eventually, he lifted his head again and distanced himself a little.

Solomon took Asmo's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly. “All better now?”

Asmodeus simply stared at Solomon until his gaze wandered over to his hand. Now, he saw nothing but his perfectly manicured nails,chipped purple nails nowhere in sight. He had changed back.

“How-” he started, but then froze in place as realization hit him. His eyes widened. “Solomon...” he whispered as the man in question still held his hand softly. “Did you just-”

“Use magic? No.”

“Then why did I change back?” he asked reluctantly.

Solomon froze in place and shifted slightly uncomfortably.

He was one of the greatest sorcerers the world had ever seen, yet dealing with intimacy and most of all honesty was incredibly difficult for him. He generally preferred to be seen as a mysterious, unreadable man. For Asmodeus however, he had to make an exception and jump over his own shadow. “I figure the requirements to lift the spell have been... fulfilled,” he finally said and Asmodeus' face lit up reluctantly.

He already felt much better, taken the fact that he was back in his own body. His thoughts were still racing, his insecurities much too obvious, but the missing presence of Levi's anxiety helped alleviate his mood a whole lot.

For a moment, Asmo pondered over Solomon's words. The wheels in his head were turning until he finally came to a conclusion. “Oh!” he exclaimed softly, feeling uncharacteristically shy. Slowly,he reached out towards Solomon, grabbing the jacket of his school uniform. “Can I-” he nodded towards Solomon's chest.

Solomon simply nodded. “Go ahead.”

Quickly, Asmodeus took off Solomon's coat before starting to work on his shirt, hands that were still shaking undoing the buttons skilfully. Seconds later, Solomon was sitting there, chest exposed, countless of sigils littering his skin. On his chest,right over his heart was the one Asmo had been looking for; the sigil that had sealed the pact between them.

Carefully, he let one finger run along the dark lines as he felt a light buzzing running through his body. Looking at the sigil, at the sign that depicted the importance of their bond, filled Asmodeus with the gooey-est feeling of pride. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he lowered his head to plant a soft kiss on Solomon's chest, right over his heart where their sigil was. He planted a few more butterfly kisses all over until he pulled himself up, one hand on Solomon's shoulder, the other on the base of his neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he closed in, brushing his lips against Solomon's in an innocent manner. Solomon smiled against his lips in relief.  

“My pleasure,” he simply said, knowing that when he was with him, he didn't need to explain himself for Asmodeus to understand. They didn't need big words or empty phrases. Their bond was strong and alive. As long as they could support each other without any limits, they would be fine, since from the moment they met, they'd been connected by the string of fate.

Asmodeus deepened the kiss, his hands roaming over Solomon's body lazily. Time around them seemed to slow down as they simply relished in each other's company. Solomon parted ways with Asmodeus' lips as he made his way down his neck, leaving soft kisses before he started to softly suck on the skin, taken over by a certain kind of possessiveness. Noticing what Solomon had in mind, Asmo simply tilted his head to the side, granting him better access.

After all, Solomon found himself to be quite possessive when it was about Asmodeus. He wanted to mark him all over so the world could see how loved he was and how appreciated he was, no matter what everyone else thought or said. Asmodeus was, after all, perfect in every way and deserved to be treated accordingly.

Just as Solomon brushed his tongue over a big hickey he'd just left, someone knocked on the door and they both jumped a bit in surprise. Seconds later, Yuuta entered the room. “Asmo?” he asked  before his eyes zoomed in onto Solomon and Asmodeus.

For a split second, they all just stared at each other without saying a word, Yuuta standing in the doorway, Asmo straddling a shirtless Solomon who had one arm wrapped tightly around Asmodeus' midsection and the other on his neck. None of them moved.

“I- I guess I'm not needed here!” Yuuta finally blurted out, slamming the door behind him as he rushed out of the room.

Solomon and Asmodeus stared at each other, perplexed for a moment before breaking out in laughter.

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Women in SPN—Is it Really That Bad?

TL;DR: Somewhat, yeah, it kinda is.

This is going to be a series of long ones, people.

Before I jump head first into this giant vat of weird toxic shit, let me say something:

The thing about most of the female characters is that on their own? They’re perfectly fine, ranging from serviceable to the occasional flash of thematic brilliance. Barely any of them qualify as “this is hateful on its face and incompetent regardless of context and the writers should feel bad for ever conceiving of it”, i.e. the normie benchmark for justified criticism. It’s only when you put these characters next to each other that a worrying pattern emerges;

Although discussions about sexism in the media were very much a thing in the mid-2000s, as well as shows with characters whose primary role wasn’t to serve a man’s needs, I can’t honestly claim that the flaws of SPN are out of the norm for its time; and

The first few seasons could really do with a PSA at the start of each episode, something along the lines of “A part of the reason why female characters are killed off or written out with such regularity is rabid superfans who couldn’t abide anything with tits brushing against J2, srsly, the writing team and the 2000s’ fan base were a match made in hell, except it wasn’t the writers who couldn’t do with bitching on their LiveJournals about the gall of women to exist in the show, choosing instead to harass the creators and actresses and wives and call them every sexist insult under the sun AND I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE HAS THERE EVER BEEN A CESSPIT AS DISGUSTING AND NUKEWORTHY AS THE SPN FANDO—“

Anyway.

SPN has a legacy (as a posterchild for not knowing when to bow out gracefully, but legacy nonetheless) and isn’t watched in 2005 but in the year of our Lord Today. Meaning that as time goes by, the issues surrounding the show’s production retreat into the background and only what’s on the screen remains, to be judged on its own merits.

So let’s run down a list of the more noteworthy and relevant female characters of the first arc, focusing on their characterization, role in the narrative, and end. In the conclusion to this series of posts, the sum of characters will be analyzed as a whole to see if there are any unique tendencies in the show’s handling of women as opposed to that of men. I’ll do this for the original five seasons as the recent finale went out of its way to say that nothing after season 5 was strictly speaking necessary so why bother.

(Also because I died of frustration in season 8 and vowed not to subject myself to any more of the post-apocalypse fanfic era)

Angels, while strictly speaking genderless clouds of energy, will be classified as men or women depending on the apparent gender of the vessel they spend most of the time riding. The same goes for demons where I also take into account their stated gender while they were alive. That’s because although beings like Meg, Ruby, Anna, or Lilith can’t technically be considered women in the show’s present day, their consistent preference for conventionally attractive and/or female vessels throughout the original arc makes claims of genderlessness essentially meaningless. For all intents and purposes, we’re watching girls and women on screen.

Baby—the only true NB of the first run

All right, time to jump.

Say hi to our ladies!

Mary Winchester

Killed in the very first scene to give the story a reason to exist, she remains an active presence throughout the first arc where she has a wide-reaching influence on the plot and characters, driving the conflict on several levels. Fleshed-out more and more with each appearance to be more than just “the dead mom”, she’s portrayed as protective, pro-active, capable, and assertive, mirroring the duo’s desire for normal life and their inability to have it. Her story comes full-circle in season 5 when the personal tragedy of her fate is embedded in the wider tragedy of the Winchester family curse and the overall theme of destiny.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major

On her own: Textbook example of fridging… and that tropes aren’t bad in and of themselves.

Jessica Moore

Comparatively, if anyone doubts fridging can evolve into something meaningful, Jess drives the point home by having no personality and no point but to prop up her boyfriend before she ends up pinned to the ceiling, the reveal of which is the most interesting thing about her entire existence. At best she’s a symbol of Sam’s civilian life, at worst an obstacle to be removed for the story to happen.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major in terms of manpain, non-existent otherwise

On her own: A cardboard cut-out, barely qualifies as a character

Missouri Moseley

A psychic and the primary reason why John Winchester even knows to wipe his ass. Appears once over the course of the first arc yet everyone wants her to come back years later—that’s how awesome she is. Has this fantastic trait of being compassionate and empathetic while not taking a single speck of shit from anyone, especially when it comes from the two main dumbos who might just as well have been raised in a barn. Is very particular about the pristine state of her coffee table.

Status: Alive as of s5, killed in s13 (wait, what?)

Importance: Major…ly wasted potential

On her own: As strong a character as Bobby Singer, and as worthy of being elevated to the main cast.

Lori Sorensen

The writers can’t figure out why anyone in the universe would care about Jess either so they insert an intentionally awkward romance subplot to convince people the time’s not yet ripe for Sam to stop grieving and start slaying. The result’s… erm… well, awkward. Lori’s naïve, sheltered, devout though accepting of her non-repressed friend, and sort of on a religious crossroads because of her hypocritical preacher father. I guess the virginal power of her virginal virginity does… something in the plot? Primarily a vehicle for Sam to mark the stages of his moving on.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: A bit done. Like a bit lot. Like a “could be a trope namer” bit lot.

Meg

Boom, baby!

Arguably the chief antagonist of season 1 and one of the best things about it. The first one to point out the pervasive toxicity of the Winchester family business, so props for perceptiveness. Possesses the standard qualities of a lower-level henchman—manipulative, no-nonsense, and quietly sinister which, while not exactly groundbreaking, sets her apart from the other bad guys in the season as they tend to have no distinguishing characteristics at all. Plus Nicki Aycox makes the role seem more unique and “lived-in” by projecting a sense of understated amusement at the two main chucklefucks. Is one of S1’s turning points in blurring the lines between monsters and humanity. Has a face transplant twice—once to have revenge (good on her) and the other time to pursue someone else’s goals again before getting stomped into the ground like a mook.

Status: Alive as of s5 (?), killed in s8

Importance: Major

On her own: The actresses do most of the heavy lifting. Which doesn’t mean I don’t love watching the character burst onto the scene and announcing the end of the Winchester brand of bullshit.

Layla Rourke

A terminal cancer patient in a religious cult, she’s a more mature take on a Lori-type character and the themes of faith and doubt. Serves as a conduit for Dean’s budding survivor guilt, self-loathing, and sense of worthlessness. Is kind and cheerful, with strong hints that she’s relying on forced optimism to get through the days; also understanding of the circumstances of others while realistically freaked about the possibility of death. Weirdly, she enters the episode already in a state of acceptance and leaves it just as accepting when it’s confirmed that yeah, she’ll die soon. All expressions of anger at the injustice and senselessness are left to her mother which somewhat undermines the “struggling” portion of Layla’s character and renders the final scene where she makes peace with her fate a bit hollow.

Status: Implied dead

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Dean’s development

On her own: I want to like her, I really do, just… if only she were allowed to get pissed, once.

Cassie Robinson

Dean’s ex and that’s pretty much all there is to her. I struggle to pinpoint a single personality trait of hers—the 2000s idea of a “strong woman” and “not like other girls”, perhaps? Undermined as a love interest because TPTB don’t show the happy or any parts of her relationship with Dean so really, why should anyone care if two sniping assholes with little to no chemistry get back together? Memorable for being in a horribly scored softcore scene which YouTube tries to convince me lasts for shy over a minute, not the week I remember it to. Involved in the show’s first and last attempt at incorporating the issue of anti-black racism.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: She’s in the racist truck episode. ‘Nuff said.

Sarah Blake

A sophisticated people-person conversationalist with a love of high art and a deep sense of introspection. Ascends to the state of godhood by being able to pull off pigtails while adult. Bonds with Sam over responding to loss by crawling into a shell but deciding to move on. Doesn’t care for your fancy schmancy fine dining, Romeo. Isn’t ashamed to openly talk feelings which includes her explicitly asking Sam if they have a thing going on (honestly, this is such a breath of fresh air for a normcore romance). Despite being scared out of her wits, she refuses to be shoved into the helpless civilian box after learning about the existence of the supernatural; Dean creates a Pinterest wedding board in response.

Status: Alive as of s5, pointlessly dragged back to be murdered in s8

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Sam’s development

On her own: A great love interest that has enough writing behind her to fool you into thinking she’s something more.

Up next, whenever I feel like it, seasons 2 and 3!

[obaby-me]

Please Stay

Author’s Note:  This is raffle prize fic for @socially-awkward-lvl-over9000!  Romance and angst, just as requested.  Hope your heart breaks, but in the best way.  (This is a continuation of the Anxiety headcanon found here:  https://obaby-me.tumblr.com/post/617140937244786688/an-mc-that-has-really-bad-anxiety-but-likes, and https://obaby-me.tumblr.com/post/617232394679894016/anxiety-anon-here-i-love-your-headcanons-they) 

When you first came to the Devildom, Levi wasn’t exactly thrilled to have you, to be quite honest. Another normie in his house!  Just what he needed, more people to judge him.

And then, Lucifer assigned you to his room!  His room! Lucifer didn’t give him any choice in the matter.  Not unless he wanted to be hung upside down from the chandeliers for the entirety of your stay.  And you’d still be in his room.

In the beginning, you spent your time curled up in his room by the tank, just watching him. Sometimes you’d open your mouth like you wanted to say something, and then immediately you’d clam it shut.  It was unnerving to have you stare, but the silence was worse.  Especially when he realized it was because you were too frightened to talk.

In his own awkward way, he tried to make conversation with you.  And in your own awkward way, you reciprocated.  It was a slow going pace, but that was okay.  He needed that as much as you, as you two slowly adjusted and became more comfortable together.  There was no pressure to impress, no judgement on your part for how nervous he could be—you were in the same boat!

Slowly your conversations began to pick to pick up speed, as commonalities between you emerged.  You had a love of the deep blue, that was why you were in his room after all.  You took a liking to Henry, and for your respect for his fish, he in turn respected your narwhal, Sparkle.  You weren’t quite an otaku, but you certainly weren’t a normie either.  You loved anime and you loved karaoke, and you loved singing anime openings and endings in karaoke!

You were a good listener, and never minded when he’d go on and on about his passions.  And in the rare instances that you’d get enthused to share yours, he didn’t mind giving you his utmost attention.  He rather liked it.  You were as in love with things you cared about as he was about his—you understood him in a way his brothers never could.

As you grew closer as friends, the closer you seemed to sit.  As days passed, you inched your way closer from across the room to cuddled up beside him as he raided.  And he was surprised to find that he was quite comfortable with that.  He preferred it.

And then, you started sleeping in his room!  It started with naps, and then it became accidental sleepovers where you’d pass out during late night marathons, and then, you just sort stayed and he never asked you to leave.  Soon, it just became the new normal.  And Levi liked that.  He liked you—really liked you, more and more each day.

But he found that it wasn’t just him you were becoming more comfortable with.  You were slowly opening up to all his brothers as well, and soon his room because a lounge.  Even Lucifer was showing up.  Coming by to constantly check in to ask if you’re doing well, and if you’ve eaten, and if you need help with school work.  Menial chatter.  All the time.

Mammon was an absolute nightmare, barging in at all times without a knock, without a text for warning. Obnoxiously loud, constantly startling him, but worst of all you.

Each and every time he’d have to hold you while you shook and came down from the shock, as he hissed at Mammon to shut the hell up.  Bickering in hushed voices until Mammon would huff and get in beside you to chat with you about the scummy scams he pulled.  Levi would never understand why you put up with him.  He wasn’t worth your time.

But he’d bring you little things, with narwhals or little sea creatures on it and you’d smile and laugh. Levi hated when he did.

Asmo was a frequent visitor, but he never stayed long.  He’d come in practically singing to show you catalogues of items to decorate your room. He was so eager to get out of here. And every time you gave him just a little more to add, the more Levi’s heart seemed to drop.  Did you really want to get out of here that bad?

Beel and Belphie were definitely a pair he was becoming to despise.  The way they draped over you when they’d come to visit!  While they were the quietest of the brothers, Levi thought they were worst.  To have them come in here and put their hands on you!  It made Levi’s blood boil.  Belphie curled up into your side as if he were a cat, and Beel sitting on your other side as he munched on treats.  And you never fought them on it.  You just quietly accepted it, carrying on as if this was becoming your new normal.

But even Beel and Belphie didn’t compare to Satan.  Levi was beginning to hate him most of all.

He stops by pretty rarely unlike the rest of his brothers, and when he did, it was always for just an hour or so drink a little tea and eat some biscuits and some light studying—sometimes just to lend a book with you with eared pages and sections he wanted you to read.

Of his brothers, the fact that he was hardly tracking into his room should have been something Levi would be thankful to him for.

But the problem wasn’t him coming into his room.  It was taking you out.

Out of Levi’s room, out into the Devildom to libraries, restaurants, shopping centers.  Levi offers to take you instead, and he was able to take you out bustling otaku dream strip of anime themed cafes and stores specializing in manga, and figurines, and the arcades—it was the absolute best of the best of the Devildom for any otaku!

But the crowds, and the chatter of so many seemed to overwhelm you.  He hadn’t quite planned well enough for this, and so he took a teary you home, feeling rather guilty.

Instead, you now took trips with Satan, strolling through Devildom on perfect itineraries with few crowds, sharing parfaits and cakes.  Levi seethed every time the two of you went out.

As the weeks passed, he began to notice more and more that you visited less and less.  You still came by, but he found himself feeling somehow lonelier than he’d ever been before meeting you.

He asked you once, when your phone rang off, and you stood to leave, “where are you going?”

“To see Satan!  He’s teaching me magic.”

You smiled so brightly, the nervous smiles he knew when you’d first come, just blooming.  And not for him, not with him.  You were off and out the door.

What broke his heart, the final straw, was the morning he saw you coming out of Satan’s room. Rubbing your eyes tiredly as you traversed the hall to your own to get ready for class.  “W-what was she doing in your room!”  He wailed.

Satan only smirked. “Nothing at all.  She just happened to fall asleep while studying is all.”

He wished he could say he was angry.  Angry enough to punch that smug grin of his little brother’s face.

But instead all he felt was an overwhelming weight on his chest—crushing his lungs.

Satan must have been expecting a fight out of him, and he could see his brother’s brows furrow when the brawl never came.  “Hey, Levi—” Satan began, reaching out a hand.

Levi was quick to smack it away, and trudge back to his only haven, and lock himself away.  He skipped school, much to Lucifer’s disappointment. He ignored texts, and then calls, and his door remained locked, even to you.

But it hurt being in his room.  It hurt to think of you.  And to think of how much he’d liked you.  Of all things he wanted to say and then didn’t.  And then of how you abandoned him for his brother—and he couldn’t really blame you.  When weighed against Satan, who in their right mind would choose the gross otaku?

Somehow he was more alone in the one occupant room than he had ever been before.

At dinner, when he did not appear, Lucifer came to speak with him.  Levi ignored his knocking and requests to open the door, until the prideful avatar was threatening to break it down.   Complying, Levi opened the door but a crack, but it was enough for Lucifer to see red, puffy eyes and cheeks stained with trails.  Any anger Lucifer had died in his throat.

“Just leave me alone,” Levi whispered.  “Please.”

“Levi, why did you skip school today?”  Lucifer looked as stern as ever, but his voice was laced with concern.

“I—I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was a pause as Lucifer considered his answer.  “How long do you intend to be absent?”

“Until it stops hurting.”

Worry flashed in his eldest brother’s eyes.  “Are you injured?”

“No.”  Levi said with a finality that Lucifer did not question.

“I will check with you again tomorrow.”

It was three days before anyone other than Lucifer saw or heard from Levi again.  He’d been in his room living on the snacks he had stashed in his room.

“Oh!  L-Levi!”  You called to his as he was raiding the fridge.

He froze, blood running cold.

“You’ve finally emerged,” you tentatively teased as you approached.

“Yeah.”  He muttered, avoiding your gaze as he filled his arms with anything not tagged with Beelzebub.

“So, are you uhm, playing a newly released game?  Maybe, watching a marathon?”  You asked, your voice coming closer.

Quickly he moved away, go the long way around the island counter and towards the door.  “Y-yeah, something like that.”  He mumbled as he strode past.

“Oh,” you whispered sounding disappointed.  “D-do you think maybe I could join you?”  Your voice wavered, and he knew, he just knew you were staring into his back with those large doe eyes, and if Sparkle was with you, probably fidgeting with its little horn.

He couldn’t say no to you. It was easier with a door closed, or through a phone.  But not like this, out in the open.

Not when you latched on to his arm, and forced him to look down at you.

Damnit.

You watched him play newly download DLC, commenting every so often, cracking jokes, like you used to.

And he let you.

You fed him chips so he didn’t have to let go of his controllers, just like you used to.

And he let you.

You pulled a blanket around you both, and you cuddled into his side, just like you used to.

And he let you.

But it didn’t feel the same. His heart still maintained that flustered flutter that you pulled from him with your every action, but every beat stung.

As the night wound down and he watched the credits roll, you gently ran your hand up and down his arm, a gesture meant to soothe him as you asked a painful question.

“Levi, can you tell me what happened?  I mean, it’s okay i-if you don’t want to.”

He couldn’t find a way to answer and fully express himself.

He thought he was special to you.  Just like he thought you were special to him.

He thought that you liked him and his room, and his bed.

He left you in silence, during which you fidgeted.  “I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he felt you detach from him, shifting as if to stand.

His hand was quick to catch yours, faster than his brain had thought it through.  You stared at him rather wide-eyed.

“Don’t go.”  He pleaded.  “Stay here.”

“O-okay,” you promised with a nod and a small smile.  “I’ll stay a little longer.”

“H-how long is a little?” Levi shyly asked.

“Well, I have a magic lesson with Satan—”

His arms were suddenly around you and he yanked you into him, his face buried into your shoulder. “Stay here.”  He asked again, his voice wavering.  “Don’t go to him.  Stay with me.”

“L-Levi?”  You questioned, nervously, your hand gently rubbing his back.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want you to go.” He choked.  “I don’t want to have you leave me and go to Satan’s and stay in his room.  I don’t want you to choose him over me.  I don’t want you to love him.  I want you to love me.”

He could feel you warm beneath him.  “L-love?” Your voice shook, and your hands stilled.

His heart was sinking slowly into his gut with dread, but his arms refused to loosen, as he tucked his head further into your neck.  “Please,” was all he could think to say.  “Please stay. Stay with me.”

[ruthfeiertag]

Random Ruminations on Depression

Preamble:

I want to take back the word ruminate. The Online Etymology Dictionary explains that the word “ruminate (v.)” dating from the 1530s, means “'to turn over in the mind,’ also ‘to chew cud’ (1540s), from Latin ruminatus, past participle of ruminare ‘to chew the cud; turn over in the mind,' from rumen (genitive ruminis) ‘gullet,’ of uncertain origin.” Merriam-Webster Online Gives the definition of ruminate as

transitive verb

1: to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly 2: to chew repeatedly for an extended period

intransitive verb

1: to chew again what has been chewed slightly and swallowed : chew the cud 2: to engage in contemplation : REFLECT

https://pixabay.com/photos/pensive-female-woman-window-staring-580611/

But psychology — and in general I have real respect and genuine gratitude for the healing and support psychology and psychotherapists provide; if I kept a gratitude journal, my therapist’s name would be on every page — has come near to ruining this apt word that perfectly expresses the way many of us need or choose to take the time to ponder and deliberate rather than hasten to judge or get embroiled in the consequences of an ill-considered decision. Psychology, as a field, has decided ruminate should mean obsessively thinking about whatever is bothering one, over and over and over… 

I think one of the reasons this definition has become popular, not only among psychologists, but in the general public as well, is that we have such short attention spans and have come to prize speed over all else. We rush to embrace technology that robs us of our privacy, we don’t stay to watch the credits after a movie (unless there’s an added scene), we expect to know the results of every election before the votes are all counted. Take a breath, people. Being ruminative used to be a positive attribute, one that indicated one was a careful, thoughtful person, not inclined to fling one’s self pell-mell off a cliff. Now it is a weakness, a character flaw that indicates one brings one’s misfortunes upon one’s self because one can’t control one’s thoughts. 

Join me in my mission. Let’s rescue ruminate. Start using it in its proper sense. Fling it with abandon into your philosophical conversations: “I was ruminating upon the meaning of life the other day and wondering just what 42 really has to do with it.” If someone tries to push you into making a snap decision, say, “You know, in order to give you the thoughtful answer you deserve, I need to ruminate on that for a day or two.” When next asked to describe yourself, pause for a moment,  then declare, “I am an attentive, measured sort of person with a ruminative cast to my mind.” (Just don’t tell anyone you’re a ruminant. That will totally undermine our goal.) 

And after we save ruminate, we’re coming back for you, enable.

*****************************

Every so often, the New Yorker slips a suggestion for an archived article into the Inbox of my e-mail. That how I came across Andrew Solomon’s article, “Anatomy of Melancholy,” that appeared in New Yorker’s January 12, 1998 issue. It’s a pretty harrowing description of the depths down to which depression can pull person, and of the biases that still pertain when it comes to admitting to others or to ourselves that we have a mental illness and, worse, might be so “weak” as to need chemical (or electrical) interventions. As I moved through the essay, I can upon this proffered bit of wisdom:

Accuracy of perception is not an evolutionary priority. Too optimistic a world view results in foolish risk-taking, but moderate optimism gives you a strong selective advantage. “Normal human thought and perception,“ Shelley Taylor writes in her 1989 book, Positive Illusions, “is marked not by accuracy but by positive self-enhancing illusions about the self, the world, and the future. Moreover…these illusions are not merely characteristic of human thought; they appear actually to be adaptive.” As she notes, “The mildly depressed appear to have more accurate views of themselves, the world, and the future than normal people. [They] clearly lack the illusions that in normal people promote mental health and buffer them against setbacks.”

hulki-okan-tabak-SKadYI4E7OM-unsplash-scaled

So — why are those of us with depression and accurate perceptions the ones who are mentally ill, while the “normies” with their illusions are the ones who are considered sane? Why are we the ones who are seen as less evolved? Am I the only one who thinks this assessment is a little bit off?

************************************

  In a recent car commercial, actor and apparent guru Matthew McConaughey ruminates (see how easy it is to just slip the word right into a sentence?) out loud about the process of identity formation. He muses 

“Knowin’ who we are is hard — it’s hard. Eliminatin’ who you are are not, first, and you’re gonna find yourself where ya need to be.”

OK: first, shouldn’t the logic of the first sentence — the search for identity — lead to a statement about finding out who one is rather than where one is? I guess that’s what happens when one infuses manufactured sagacity into an advert for a vehicle. And never mind the lack of parallel structure in the second sentence.

But what I keep thinking is, “What if we, as is recommended by Mr. McConaughey, eliminate all the people we are not, only to realize there’s no one left?” That’s kind of who-where I keep finding myself.

*********************************

An ethical dilemma: At the recommendation of a friend, I picked up Change Your Brain, Change Your Life, by Daniel G. Amen. M.D. I haven’t read very far into it, but so far there are some sensible observations about the practicality of having one’s brain scanned for damage so one knows whether medical or psychotherapeutic remedies are most likely to be beneficial. However, on page twenty-nine, our friend the doctor discusses thing that hurt the brain and things that help the brain. Under malign influences, Dr. Amen notes that “even spending time with unhealthy people [is] bad for the brain.” OK: I can see how that can work.

In the next paragraph, Dr. Amen lists things that can boost the brain. This list includes the point that “In many ways, the best thing you can do for your brain is to spend time with healthy people. As we will see, they are contagious. I often say the fastest way to get healthy is to find the healthiest person you can stand and then spend as much time around him or her as possible.” That also makes sense.

BUT — and you may already see the problem here — let’s say I’m a healthy person. I know an unhealthy person, someone with, say, depression, someone who would immensely benefit from spending time with me. Yet if I do spend time with that person, I’ll be engaged in an activity that will be detrimental to my own grey matter. On the other hand, if I choose to protect myself by shunning the depressed person, I’m selfishly depriving her or him of my beneficial “contagion” and preventing that person from attaining the flourishing cerebrum she or he deserves. (Unless, of course, that person has been ruminating. In that case, she or he deserves all the melancholy that infests her or his soul. [That’s an example how NOT to use the word ruminating.]) I’m either allowing harm to come to myself or withholding aid from another, which makes me a pretty lousy human being, and knowing that I’m a pretty lousy human will depress me.

Now let’s imagine that I am the unhealthy person, and I know a tremendously healthy person, in whose salubrious presence I never fail to rally. I have a lot of time on my hands. I easily could spend days with this person and notably sharpen my dulled mental functions and ameliorate my debilitating mood. However, by latching on to this bloom-imparting individual, I will be causing harm to that person’s well-being and will likely disrupt her or his equilibrium. That would make me an insensitive parasite, sucking the life out of someone for my own ends, and being such a draining leech would make me feel horrible and depressed.

So what to do? I hate lose-lose, damned-if-you-do-or-don’t, caught-between- Scylla-and-a-hard-place options.

**********************************

And then Will Wheaton put this up on his Blog:

報復性熬夜

Revenge Bedtime Procrastination, which has a much more beautiful name in Chinese (the literal translation for revenge bedtime procrastination means “suffering through the night vengefully.”), is a phenomena unique to people who feel out of control in their daily lives, so we refuse to go to sleep early, to exert some control over our lives, and to enjoy some quiet time alone, when the rest of our people are sleeping.

I should confess, straight up, that I am, by nature, a night owl. It runs in the family. But I love both this concept and its name. Between the depression and the M.E. and the State of the Union, I’m having an increasingly hard time getting any sleep. I just wish being AWAKE YES I’M AWAKE YES I DO KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS OH ISN’T THAT A LOVELY SUNRISE? would wreak some actual vengeance on the conditions and people who are responsible for my near-insomnia. 

 *****************************

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-face-branches-woman-3317298/

I hope my ruminations provide some conceptual cud for your synapses, dear reader, to masticate at the pace of your choosing. And don’t forget: enable is still waiting for us to effect an heroic rescue, one worthy of our idiom.

[stayspookymockingbirdlane]

hii its great to see more modern munsters fans especially one who's actually interested in the Rob Zombie movie (wooo!) but from scrolling through your page for a bit I get the idea that you don't necessarily like the Addams Family? Is it because of the pair of movies from the 90s causing the popularity surge or is it something about the show itself?

Also what did you think about the films itself and the characters? (Sorry i know you're hard-core munster but i'd love to hear your opinion)

Thank you for such a nice message! This is the first bit of fanmail I've gotten! Putting this under the cut for length and some AF criticism. (Don't complain if you're a fan and choose to read it anyway please.)

Firstly, I'd like to clarify I have more issues with AF fans themselves, at least as a whole (lots of individual ones are nice people and I don't mean them or mean to offend them when I generalize. My own best friend is one!). I've posted before about how they have a tendency to make Munsters posts about the AF when the AF already dominates the spooky film/Halloween fandom in comparison, which is really entitled and inconsiderate ("Who else loved the Munsters show?" "Well, I always liked the Addams better". One person I saw yesterday straight up took the Munsters trailer and went on a completely irrelevant rant about how the AF are a better couple for supposedly not being straight while the Munsters are?¿?). They also heavily crosstag AF posts as Munsters, which is just rude to people looking for Munster content.

They also can be weirdly... petty about the Munsters. I've had people tell me they've never seen them call the Munsters the "white trash version of the AF" or "AF ripoffs" or Herman and Lily are an healthy couple or whatever, and one person here implied that an example of Munster hate I showed them was basically me just exaggerating. But I see it on every platform any time I read a discussion about the two. Some people like both but for some reason the Addams attract people with an individuality complex and it makes them irate to see the Munsters get love. Which in turn makes it pretty hard to not resent the AF a little bit, if I'm to be honest.

Which leads me to my second point. I have grown to not care for the AF very much. I grew up knowing the show, enjoyed the Scooby Doo crossover, watched the 1990s films a lot, and didn't really love or hate them. I thought they were fine. But when I started using the internet more and got into the Munsters, I noticed a lot of people would negatively pit them against the AF. But more than that, the 90s films seemed to have kind of a bad influence on others my age- the Not Like Other Girls crowd, the "normal people scare me" types who judge others for being into mainstream things, or conventionally attractive. I thought the hostility was very unwarranted, and I saw it didn't align with how fans would say they loved the Addams for being so kind and accepting of others, because they never were to "normies" and often weren't to the Munsters, either. The 90s movies definitely made the AF colder and more snobbish compared to their warmer, friendlier counterparts of the 60s. I sort of get it because the 90s were just kinda into darker stuff and cynicism but still. It basically raised a generation to have elitism and an individuality complex. And why wouldn't it? Tish got standoffish and judgy about pastels and Wednesday is sarcastic and outright tries to kill people and the couple sneers at a harmless play of kids dressed as flowers. Who wouldn't relate to them as a kid who already resented your preppy peers? (Well, me, honestly, but I guess I'm the exception.) I guess I don't see how their goth aesthetic (imo what people's love for them comes down to in truth) makes them deserve a pedestal over the Munsters.

It should be said though that I don't really have a problem with their older versions. I don't think they're "genius" like their fans do, nor do I personally find them as relatable or funny as my spooky faves, but I respect that they're iconic and imo they're fine as long as their fans don't treat them as objectively superior to the Munsters. I actually love crossovers and I'm looking forward to seeing the cartoon movies sometime, which seem closer to the comics than Burton's series will be.

Hope that wasn't too rant-y and answered your question!

[rejectdolls]

@walkmanned​ asked: amaryllis & rose, for megan! 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 : 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 !

amaryllis:   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?  

megan has always been artistically inclined, and she expresses her love for drawing. she took art classes in school and used to display her best and most detailed pieces framed in her room, or just stare at them with love and awe of such perfect impressions of people, scenes, objects. she draws things she loves, including places in nature or distinct memories ( or celebrity crushes ). sometimes her psychic ability comes into play and even her automatic drawings are as vivid as the visions that come to her. she likes to show everyone, no matter what it is.  when she finishes something she’s proud of, she smiles and then goes to show someone. “hey, look what i drew!” 

one time, she drew an intentionally funny caricature of a teacher when she had to serve wednesday school that’s another story and froze when he came over to see what she and a classmate were giggling about. ( it was really funny, he was eating donuts and getting crumbs on himself and everything but also very accurate to his features ). to her surprise, he actually burst out laughing and asked if he could have it. she was delighted and honored.

rose:  how much does your muse value other people ?   do they wish to have many friends ,   lovers ,   and/or associates ?   are they an easy person to love ?

meg loves to socialize. she likes attention, she likes to interact with people and make connections, but she’s always seemed to have a hard time actually making friends where she grew up. however, she is easily likeable once she’s actually given a chance. the normies tend to judge her soft goth / slightly witchy vibe and see her as different, and maybe they can pick up on her vibe because she is different. she wonders if they’re prejudiced against redheads, because she’s heard the jokes and she knows people can be. sometimes, she worries that she tries but just can’t connect with people and she can’t figure it out but it does make her sad. she decides that she likes certain people, she has favorite people anyway, and she could be very easy to love if people would really pay attention to her and see her when they looked at her or listen to her when she talks. she can be intense, very expressive but she’s also introspective and sometimes second guesses herself when it comes to what’s normal behavior and what isn’t. when others make the effort, she’s easy to get along with. it’s usually not a her problem, it’s a they problem. she’s more lonely than she lets on, but she smiles anyway.

when she was younger, a woman she looked up to ( her favorite science teacher ) used to tell her: “to have a friend, you must be a friend” and she carried that with her as she grew up. she values reciprocity and wants to feel like people care about her as much as she cares about them. she isn’t a people pleaser and doesn’t bend over backwards for love, but she is social.  she’s also a hopeless romantic and daydreams about scenarios with her crushes, though she probably won’t do anything about it because she’s convinced it’s unrealistic so if anything, she’ll let them make the first move. she also falls in love with guys in bands who don’t know she exists, or people in a totally different social orbit. but with her colorful personality ( dreamy, articulate, smart, creative, empathetic, hilarious, can be a sweetheart ), it should be difficult not to love her.

[fictionerd]

Good to see you, friends!

Dammit I fall behind a week on this series, and as though in revenge it continues to reduce its suck-factor. Still not going to protect your main couple from the nicknames, 3DK. I still haven’t forgiven you for season one!

Synopsis: We open on Blue Idiot: Tsutsui and my boy Ito working late to ensure their class is ready for the festival. It seems pretty clear they’ve been ditched with all the work when they begin to hear the sounds of the school ghosts coming out to play. 

[Epic Pause]

Nah! Of course not. It’s just Ishino coming to the rescue with a bunch of their classmates as cavalry so they can be sure the job gets done. While everyone starts pitching in with getting their maid cafe ready. 

Backstory Time: In my fervor and frustration last week I completely glossed over that this is what they were doing for the festival. At Ishino’s suggestion no less.

Blue Idiot’s shock at having his class actually come to help him, (even if it was due to some one else’s urging) leads him to say. “What is this. It feels like I’m having the time of my life.” Woah, back the HIFL up there, Blue Idiot. If you enjoy these “normie” events too much you might just start to realize that normal is relative, and just because you’re a massive nerd who spends all his time either inhaling media, writing about it online, or guarding a library in a strange outer knowledge dimension doesn’t mean you’re any better or even different from these so-called “normal” people.

Wait? What was I saying again?

Right! The Culture Festival. The day of the festival comes and we get to see the grand opening of Class 3-A’s Maid Cafe. It’s so good to see they got all the prep work done. So I guess we’ll be spending more time with Ishino huh? I mean she is the only female character in the main cast who’s actually in 3-aaaaaaaah....

Ahem! I... Wow. I mean it’s good to see the Nekomimi ears get one last hurrah, but DAMN! Look I know that Ayado helped you train for the whole Maid Cafe thing in the last episode, but I didn’t think you would PERSONALLY step into the fray, Ito. I don’t know what to say aside from mah Boi’s making this look good.

Oh, don’t give me that look, Ishino! I’m getting to your arc. In fact why don’t I cover it right now? Ishino’s bit in this episode is her feeling like she’s second fiddle at best and absolutely worthless at worst. She’s entered into the Beauty Contest but doesn’t have any votes aside from her own. She gets outshone at the maid cafe by Ito. THIS ASSHOLE once again does everything in his power to push her away from him. At least until he comes across her alone in the hallway. She’s obviously feeling a bit fragile because of the multiple hits her self-image has taken today, and he offers her some sympathy and comfort even going so far as to vote for her in the beauty contest. A token gesture, but not entirely without meaning. He tells her to hang in there and that’s all we get from these two this episode.

Note: This touching display of sympathy is nice and all, but I’m always going to refer to him as THIS ASSHOLE at least once each time he’s featured because of the stunt he pulled with his little sister when he was introduced in season one. You don’t just live that shit down without SHOWING US HIM MAKING AMENDS FOR IT! And NO! I don’t mean making amends to Blue Idiot. I mean making amends to his sister WHO HE USED TO STAGE THE LOLICON ACCUSATIONS AGAINST BLUE IDIOT!

So back to current events in the show. The Beauty contest takes place. After preliminary voting of course Pink Idiot is in the finals alongside Brunette Nobody? I dunno she’s a character who as far as I can tell was introduced last episode as a sort of “Mean Girls” type who buys all the rumors about Pink Idiot wholesale. So Brunette Nobody gets up on stage and puts on this disgustingly saccharine cute-girl routine and wows the crowd, then Pink idiot follows up. She starts out trying to mimic the high-pitched girly-girl schtick but quickly drops it saying that she just can’t keep it up. Then she says that she honestly doesn’t see the point in judging each other based on the surface layer. How if she hasn’t ever spoken to you she doesn’t care about what you think of her, and how despite the rumors she has a group of friends who’ve seen past them and so long as they care about her that’s enough.

It’s all very touching and everything, but it displays a level of maturity and togetherness that seems to toggle on and off in Blue and Pink Idiot throughout the series. So, you wanna know the payoff for Blue Idiot being the head judge? He gets the deciding vote on who wins, and even though he wants to give it to Pink Idiot he knows that she doesn’t want to win and so hands it to Brunette Nobody. That’s it. That’s all there is. 

Honestly I think it was entirely pointless to have him be the head judge at all. There was no sneaky nonsense going in the background. If you really wanted him to have the tie-breaker vote then you could have contrived a “Blue Idiot! You’re the only one who hasn’t voted for the contest! Who you gonna pick!?” and reveal that Pink Idiot and Brunette Nobody were tied. It just feels like there could have been more done with it is all I’m saying.

Wait... What am I saying? I WANT to give the idiot couple more screentime and importance? Nevermind! Ignore everything I just said this was fine. Everything is absolutely fine!

Oh, what’s this? Ito finds Ayado getting ready to haul some garbage to the bonfire? He offers to help and their hands touch!? This gets Ayado flying into Brown Idiot mode and she goes running off to try and calm down. See, she’s out of sorts because she’s started developing feelings for Ito in spite of her “romance fatigue” mentioned last episode. We actually got to see her react to cross-play Ito earlier in the ep where she legit mistakes him for a girl at first and then when she overhears he’s doing this because of her Made Cafe Bootcamp she tries to sneak away. This utterly fails, but she gets bailed out by her shift at her class’s stand coming up.

Back to current events: Ito follows after her because he’s worried and overhears her thinking aloud about how it’s foolish for her to feel this way after rejecting him. She tries to brush it aside, but he just quietly walks up and holds her hand in what is, to me at least, a pretty heart-wrenching scene. He says, “I don’t care if it’s a misunderstanding or an illusion or what if touching you like this...”

Dammit and now Hamilton is creeping into my head. Particularly the song Helpless, because boy are both of these kids fitting that mood perfectly right now.

Thoughts: So... This is a week late. I’m sorry, but there were some... “complications” in the Library. See rebooting my story-side continuity left behind a few bits of detritus floating around that I needed to partition off until we actually get the Library’s story up and running again. 

As for thoughts on the episode itself: I quite enjoyed it. It helps, naturally, that the series is giving me everything I was pissed about being denied last season. A feeling that this is more about a social group than just Blue and Pink Idiot’s rocky relationship. It’s nice to see some meaningful development to characters who were mostly furniture in season one. I want more of this. So long as the show keeps giving it to me I’ll have nice things to say in addition to viciously mocking their power-couple.

Until next post (Which will probably be episode three of this tomorrow) keep talking fiction, friends. I’ll see you soon.