#it's weird because i don't want to die. like actually on every level that is a thing i do not want to do

[girlscience]

I hate finding a fandom that likes to take a slightly emotional character and makes them cry and have panic attacks constantly in every fic. Least favorite fandom trope ever

[neverendingford]

,

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[ineffable-gallimaufry]

i need to make a "this is not a normal thought" jingle now

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

+18 mdni: Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time. 

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly. 

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one. 

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”

[meanbossart]

do you have any thoughts on cazador as a character? personally i really loved the parallels between him and astarion & the way that the master/spawn relationship is used as an allegory for cyclical abuse. the scene with cazador’s master’s skull where you find out that he was once victimized in the exact same way that he later victimized astarion was really a lightbulb moment for me re: what vampirism represents in this game.

BOY DO I, i don't think much of it hasn't already been said, though. He's a tragic character in his own right of course, not that that takes away from the awful man he is.

Me and my boyfriend make fun of him a lot, we call him "the best BG3 character" as a little inside joke between us and come up with ridiculous scenarios of things that might have occurred throughout those 200 miserable years the spawn had under his command lol. Maybe he had a month where he was really specific about the shoes everyone wore, maybe once every other decade he had a weird week where he tried to be "nice" only to become frustrated when his efforts weren't immediately met in kind by the rightfully-terrified spawn, maybe between all the torture and horrific-ness he just did some plain weird shit like making someone crouch by in his fainting couch and wait by open-handed for grapes that he dramatically chewed on and then spat right out since he can't actually eat them lmao

And that's hysterical but I think we also started doing that because when you meet Cazador, when you first hear his voice and see his demeanor in person your immediate reaction is probably somewhere along the lines of "THIS is the clown you were so scared of, Astarion?"

And the answer is, of course, yes. This embarrassing little man stuck in a cage of his making instills fear beyond comprehension in Astarion and all his siblings. This man who undoubtedly showed all these spawn, inadvertently, the strangest, most arguably "human" aspects of himself at some point or another during these two centuries they had together is also an absolute monster. And i really like that! I think its far more effective and fitting for his story than if he was, lets say, a Ketheric type.

(this got very long so, more under the cut)

Look at Ascended Astarion in the epilogue now, for example. Everyone agrees that he's an absolute fucking dork - and I think we all also agree that he will go on to destroy the lives of many people beyond repair, especially his own, until the day he is killed.

In the topic of vampirism as an allegory for abuse, I both agree and also don't, at least not exactly - i just think it's deeper than that. I've spoken about this in another post but i find it incredibly refreshing how, to me, it seems like Baldur's Gate 3 has no interest in painting vampirism as sexy or fun past a surface level. It's a curse that nobody asks for unless put in a situation where they feel as if they have no other way out, and it shapes and haunts you for the rest of your undead existence.

Even if you enjoy its benefits at first, that has a time limit. You will see your family and loved ones die, you will see culture evolve while you stay perpetually the same. You will experience so much hurt and pain because the only thing that makes life truly sweet is knowing that it is finite, and eventually it will wear down all of your humanity. And since you can't die unless you are scorched by the sun, staked, or dismembered, you must live with the knowledge that you will never have a peaceful death - and since you won't have a peaceful death, you better not die - and if you don't want to die, you better not be weak - and if you don't want to be weak, you must seek out power at all cost and slash things like love and friendship out of your life.

And what is funny, is that in his attempt to be more like a mortal - to eat, drink, walk the sun, such incredibly simple desires - Cazador (and Astarion, if he ascends) is accidentally only drawing further away from the person he supposedly once was, because that fear of weakness has already utterly corrupted his soul.

That's quite a grim way to look at it, of course. But I genuinely think that it is the natural conclusion of something like immortality.

That's why I quite like that, even after Astarion has found happiness, even after he finds his peace, he still doesn't exactly embrace being a vampire - because It's not something he should be expected to embrace. I think it's a very unique take on the trope.

I also want to leave here this message written by his character writer, which really got me thinking about him on a deeper level since i saw it months ago. It is specifically about the sexual aspect, but I think it branches beyond it too, when you think about it.

[wlwanakin]

I don't understand this actitude about "why ppl want to make padme's life darker", specially when: a) the prequels are a train wreck, a tragedy, she literally dies at the end of the trilogy, the republic is deeply corrupt and impossible to save, there's a war, and she's an important political figure.

And b) This type of "complain" seems to only be deserved for Padme, bc fandom LOVES to hyperexaminate every single detail about the Clones, Obi-Wan, or even the most background Jedi character ever and discuss their trauma and whatever, so why when the analysis is about Padme that ppl complain?? What's appealing about her life being actually super nice and well-adjusted? Everything in canon literally points to the contrary; she fell in love in the course of three days, that's not something someone with a big circle of intimate friends and lots of emotional support does.

Even Mon and Bail, and Satine, all of them, we never saw a conversation that wasn't directly linked to politics or their work, Padme revelas very very little of her life. I know we love to joke that everyone in the senate and the Jedi temple knew she was with Anakin, but the fact that it was a secret that no single one of her so called friends knew speaks volumes (not counting the handmaidens).

Maybe is bc ppl want Padme to have other meaningful figures in her life so it doesn't look like her life revolves only around a man (jokes on them Anakin is a he/him butch), but the movies actually do show us she does have a lot going on her life, it's just that when it comes to emotional bonds, she *is* pretty lonely.

i left this sitting in my inbox for just a few days long enough for the discourse this in the context of to die but FUCKING RIGHT!!! all evidence points to padmé having the absolute garbage work/life balance and being interpersonally unfulfilled, and that’s not even a particularly dark observation to glean from her!! i just feel absolutely insane seeing people act like it’s inventing some grimdark tragic backstory to say a character has no friends and that made her weird about relationships. like the level of misogyny it takes to see that and be like “you’re reaching” in a fandom that acts like fucking obi-wan “first tragedy was experienced at 25” kenobi was crucified like jesus every day since birth is crazy to me. and people love acting like they’re doing a feminism by ignoring this pretty basic facet of her character because like you said they flatten anidala to her only being fulfilled because of a man (because they don’t realize that relationship is gay…so sad) but it just makes her boring to do that!! don’t fight the story!!!

[denaliwrites]

Dance on a Tightrope of Weird

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Crowley was not expecting you to lose your shit when he asked what you were reading.

Soundtrack: Crazy = Genius by Panic! at the Disco

Requests: Open!

Warnings: The ravings of a madwoman. (It's me, I'm the madwoman.)

It wasn't unusual for Crowley to find you tucked away somewhere in the bookshop reading one of the countless old books Aziraphale kept around. You liked classic literature, and history, and philosophy, and who knew whatever other subjects you happened to find lying around the place.

What was unusual, however, was finding you sat in his usual armchair, reading what was decidedly not a two-hundred-year-old first-edition copy of the random novel you'd decided to bury yourself in that day.

He paused in front of you, carefully tilting the book you held up so that he could look at the cover.

"Dead Mountain?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked so high you could see it over the rim of his sunglasses.

"No, no," you said, a fire immediately lighting in your eyes. "No. Don't even get me started. This is fucking insane."

Crowley never was one to listen to your advice. "Oh?" he prompted casually, and suddenly a chair appeared behind him that he, without looking, flopped down into and sprawled across.

"No, because--"

He loved watching you read. The quiet intent, the way your face moved in tandem with whatever emotions the text wanted you to feel. He'd once walked in on you sobbing along with some tearjerking novel (as a side note, that was the first time Crowley had found himself wanting to kill a book?), and another time he'd walked in on you cheering over something... triumphant, he assumed, or at least something like that.

This was different. New.

He loved it too. The fevered look in your eyes, the frustrated set of your jaw. The way your hand, shaped like a predator's claws, gripped his knee tightly in excitement.

"This is--" you were saying, and Crowley startled back into the moment, eyes on you, attention now unwaveringly on your blazing gaze. "This is so fucking insane. I can't get over this."

"Over what, darling?" he asked, and your gaze sharpened on him, as if only just realizing he was there.

"Do you know about the Dyatlov Pass Incident?"

It sounded familiar. "Tell me all about it, darling."

"Oh, you're gonna regret that."

He wouldn't. Not ever.

"Okay, so -- Soviet Russia. 1959. Middle of winter. These nine hikers -- actually, it was originally ten. These ten experienced hikers go into the Ural Mountains to, like. Upgrade themselves? 'Cause I guess there are levels to being a hiker, and you have to go on increasingly more difficult hikes to level up. So all ten were level two or whatever, and they were going on a level three hike to upgrade to level three."

He nodded, even though all the information was secondary in his attention. He just liked listening to you.

"Okay. So they get to this little town, and while they're there, all the locals are telling them shit like, 'Don't go up that mountain,' or 'you'll die up there!' Like, horror movie type shit. The kind of stuff that makes you yell at the TV."

He was familiar with that. You did that a lot -- but so did he.

"Oh, and the mountain they were hiking on? In the local language it's called Kholat Syakhl. Do you know what that means?"

He... he did. He knew what everything in every language meant. But he let you have this, because you were clearly excited. Seeing the way you motioned with the book, he waved toward it and asked, "Dead mountain?"

"Fucking -- dead mountain!"

He chuckled, but otherwise stayed silent.

"So they're getting all these crazy warnings and the mountain is literally called Dead Mountain in the local language, but they decide to go anyway! So they go off, but before they get very far, one of them is like, 'I'm so sick, I can't go on!' and so he tells them he's gonna go back to the town, and they leave without him."

"I take it he's the only survivor?"

You nodded. "Yeah. The other nine kept going. Oh, and another crazy thing -- one of the girls on the trip was keeping a journal? That's how we know about, like... 90% of the things that happened after they left the town."

He nodded. "Makes sense."

"So, because of this girl's journal, right? We know that one of the hikers just, like, fully went off his fucking rocker about a day into the trip."

"What?" Crowley asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Yeah! He started getting really antsy, and he kept shouting stuff at seemingly nothing? He yelled, like, 'Stop following us!' and stuff like that. At nothing!"

Crowley, for effect, took his sunglasses off so that you could see his surprised look.

"Anyway. So they keep going, even though literally everything that could ever say 'turn back' is saying 'turn the fuck back!' They got off course --"

"As you do."

"As you fucking do. They got off course and decided to hunker down for the night and retrace their steps in the morning. They set up camp, went to bed, and then they all fucking died."

"Oh, I imagine there's more to it than that," Crowley said.

The grin on your face was bordering on manic. "Oh, of course. First of all, according to the girl's journal, two of the hikers went batshit, started laughing hysterically for no reason, and then took off into the night, never to be seen again -- well, not alive, anyway."

"Ominous," Crowley observed thoughtfully.

"Right? And the other weird thing about that -- well, pre them all dying. There was, according to the girl, a big, glowing orange ball of light in the sky that night. They have a picture of it," you said, turning the book so that he could see. "Of course, it's in black and white, but still. And -- the craziest part of that, is that there were hikers on the other side of the mountain on the same night who confirmed the big glowing orange ball of light!"

Crowley's mouth dropped open.

"I KNOW! And then -- their deaths are even more bizarre! First of all, they cut their way out of their tent? Like, they didn't just -- open it and leave. They cut. Their way out. And then they ran down the side of the mountain into the trees. No one's really sure how anything else happened, but what we know for sure is that three of them were found a little up the mountain, like they'd been trying to make their way back up."

"Mhm."

"And two were found naked -- right at the edge of the trees, under one of the bigger ones. Some branches in the tree were broken in a way that seems to indicate that they were trying to climb up and get a view of the camp. There were also remains of a fire beside the bodies. We don't know for sure why they were naked, but the theory is paradoxical stripping."

"And what's that?" Crowley asked, even though he knew.

"It's when you're so cold that you start to feel hot, and so you take off all your clothes."

Demonic work, he was sure.

"So that's five of them. They were found shortly after they died. The other four weren't found until a few months later, after the spring thawed a lot of the snow."

"Why weren't they found right away?"

"Because they were found in a ravine about a mile past the treeline! Three of them were found in a stream in this ravine. One of them had a piece of her skull missing? And all of them had major trauma to their chests -- like, high-speed impact by a delivery truck kind of major impact. To this day, no one's sure what the fuck caused that kind of damage."

Crowley clicked his tongue in thought.

"And the last one -- she was found sitting up against a big boulder? The official report describes her like that. Sitting up against a boulder. She had, like, chunks of her face missing? And her tongue was missing. Like, the whole thing."

"You specified the official report," Crowley observed. "Is that important?"

"Oh! Yes! Because the pictures of the area? They show her as laying face down in the stream with the others!"

"That's suspicious."

"Right? On top of all that, their bodies had traces of radiation! Not their clothes, though, or their belongings. Just the bodies."

Crowley hummed.

"Oh! And their tent -- when authorities found the tent, it looked like it had been put up by amateurs. Like, level zero hikers. But these were level two hikers doing their level three hike. There's no reason their tent would've been put up like that. Even if they were in a rush or scared or whatever, it would've been put up at least sort of better."

He nodded in understanding.

"It's just -- it's all so crazy!"

"I can tell," he mused aloud, lips quirking into a smirk at your perplexed and frustrated expression.

"The thing with the girl's face is really weird," you said after a moment of thought. "The theory is scavengers, but reports of the incident specify there were no animals in the area. Like, I feel like if there were scavengers, you'd write down 'no predators,' or even 'no wolves or bears.' But no, they wrote, very specifically, 'no animals.' Like, I dunno, it just feels like that's a weird distinction to make. But then, if there weren't any animals, how did her face end up with bits missing?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"And why lie about her, too? Why move her and put her in the stream when the report literally says she was up against the boulder?"

He shrugged, before shifting forward to grip your knee.

"I just -- it's all so crazy, and weird, and -- and --"

"Oh," Crowley interjected, looking thoughtful. "Now I know why that all sounds familiar."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, that was demonic work," he continued, blissfully unaware of your increasingly maddening expression. "I'm pretty sure that was my side."

"So you -- you know what happened?"

He finally caught your expression, the set of your jaw and slight twitch in your eye. "Oh -- yeah. Of course," he said, sounding rather unsure, actually. If anything, that just seemed to aggravate you more. "Space yetis."

"... SPACE YETIS!?"

[larena]

This is maybe a hot take, but I really wish big budget RPGs would stop trying to make detailed sex scenes a thing. Not for any prudish "if I see a penis or vagina I will simply die" but just like... it's a roleplaying game. I want to roleplay.

I'm all for there being some things about a main character that you can't change because they simply have to be true for the plot to function, and y'know, Commander Shepard is always going to be within a particular range of characterization, you can't go *too* off-book. But I feel like how my character has sex, or doesn't, should be up to me if I *do* otherwise have a particular degree of authorship over them. Instead of just having to watch some overly expensive mocap that makes those decisions for me. And I do worry that focusing so much on making these scenes is why we have such a dearth of asexual options in RPG romance as well. We can't let the player say *no*! Don't they want to see our cutscene?? And It's weird because for all of BG3's vaunted dick options, and "spicy" sex scenes and bear fucking, the sex scene in that game that I feel is handled *best* are all the variations on the scene with the drow sex workers in act 3. You have a *lot* of options to choose from for how you want that encounter to go, they give you opportunities to express certain proclivities your character might or might not have, you can even outright make this encounter with a sex worker nonsexual if you really want, because like, yeah that is an option, and it's all under a completely black screen with only voiceover from your partner(s) and dialogue options. And it isn't even one of the game's *actual* romance options. Why can't I have that all the time, why isn't every romance given that level of freedom instead of some overproduced overhyped cutscene?

[xxchromies]

Antinatalism is dumb

I support women not being forced to have children (obviously) and I of course am happy that more and more people are choosing to opt out of children because they don't feel like they'd be good parents. This expectation that everyone SHOULD have children is extremely problematic.

All that being said, antinatalism has gotta be one of the dumbest, pessimistic, dead-end philosophies out there. I recognize that a lot of them are radical feminists, but a lot of them are men and I abhor the way they talk about pregnant women/mothers. I won't deny that there aren't any non-selfish reasons to have children, but at the same time I think parenthood (especially motherhood) is one of the most selfless things you can do. Possibly the most selfless, provided you're an actually good parent. The urge to have biological children and spread your genes is a part of nature. It may be selfish but so is eating and drinking.

They never seem to take things to their logical conclusion. If life is inherently suffering and immoral why don't they kill themselves? Some do, but most don't and refuse to answer the question because they don't have an answer. They are miserable and they project their suffering onto everyone. Most people think the good outweighs the bad. It's also such a red flag because if you place negative value on life itself, then why would you care if someone was murdered? You might even think that person was lucky! The second-deadliest school shooting in America was done by an antinatalist. It's very likely he thought he was "saving" the people he killed as well as himself. He even killed his own mom who sacrificed everything for him. Piece of shit. But he took things to their logical conclusion. Most antinatalists are cowards who can't admit how fucked up the implications of their ideology really are.

It's just so antisocial. I don't see how it couldn't infect every interaction you have with someone who is a parent. Or any interaction you have with children. Or honestly just any interaction with anybody. It's such a cop-out. An excuse to not participate in life at all because by their logic humans shouldn't even exist. What is the end goal? For us all to die out? They say that it wouldn't matter because life is meaningless and everything is pointless and I admit that they are right on a purely philosophical level. But just because you don't "see the point" doesn't mean you are morally superior to everyone else. You're just an antisocial dickhead. I can't believe they expect us to take them seriously.

I do believe the ability to create life is beautiful and sacred (not in a trad way) and that's why it's especially important that people not be pressured to bring life into the world if they don't truly want to. I don't fuck with any "radical feminist" who thinks it's okay to denigrate and act morally superior to mothers. Women are damned if they do, damned if they don't. If you don't have kids you will be called selfish. If you have children you will be called selfish. Fuck off.

It's just depression with a pseudo-intellectual twist and it's borderline psychopathic. "Childfree" people also often get a little weird with it, and I take issue with that. I can't stand the way many of them talk about children and parents (usually mothers). It reeks of jealousy, honestly. Smells like cope.

[isa-ghost]

*places down some money*

Phil headcannons please

*eats the coins whole*

Other qPhil headcanons

He means it 1000% when he says he'd burn the entire island to the ground for the kids. No building would be safe. Not even his own. All bets would be off. And if one of the other parents would do the same for their kid? He'd be right there with them.

He loves every egg, dead and alive alike. He has no clue what any of them think of him, and tbh he'd probably be overly humble or vaguely negative abt it bc he's just so shitty to himself when it comes to image related things, thinking they probably find him weird or smth. But he loves them all, and even if any of the eggs DO have a negative opinion of him, he'd still shed blood sweat and tears for them.

GUYS PLEASE THIS IS CANON BUT he is SO BAD at picking up on certain things if not explicitly told. If you have an issue with bird man you have to TELL HIM. He has a million other things on his mind and he has survival brain on by default which means several other things are taking up brainspace, he doesn't have the means to be looking for subtle signs someone isn't happy with him. FUCKING COMMUNICATE WITH HIM!!

Idk I just think Fit, Pac & Mike should convince him to get high with them. But I can't tell if I want to say he'd actually chill out for once & get a lil goofy or if he'd be the type that gets super anxious & hates every second he's stoned

Has a manga collection. It's not that big series-wise, he's a completionist so his collection is big bc he collects every volume of a series he's interested in. He has all of Bleach ofc, most of Chainsaw Man, probably 1-3 other series. He's preoccupied with other things usually so he hasn't read any of them in ages, but Chayanne has been going WILD reading them when he's not out and about

He gets sluttier when he's drunk. That confidence boost he gets when he's drunk enough goes places. Particularly when he's around Fit (Fit's a bad influence /pos)

Tbh? If his usual civil disobedience and the like don't work, I would not put it past him to follow Cellbit's example and just start killing Feds. I don't know how canon Phil's past is but if this is the man who helped create the Antarctic Empire or the man that leveled an entire country? Quesadilla Island's days are numbered and it will be Specifically to spite Cucurucho and any other Fed that's responsible for whatever Phil has an issue with. All it takes is taking his kids away again or hurting his friends :)

Fr tho if/when he finds out what they did to Jaiden or Baghera or anyone of the other islanders? He WILL be unleashing hell for them.

He's ready at all times to die for someone. The goal is to Not die, but if it comes to it, better him than them. And in classic hypocritical Phil fashion, he vehemently refuses to allow anyone to do the same for him. The survivor's guilt would be too much for him.

Outwardly, he processes grief and stress with humor. Because if he doesn't, he'll shut down emotionally and mentally. But don't think for a second that internally, he's a wreck. He's angry, he's in pain, he's stressed, he's conflicted, he's grieving. He just won't let anyone know he is. He doesn't like admitting it.

That said, GOD do hugs and random acts of kindness during tough/dark times get him. It's a hit straight to the heart. He'll get emotional before he can stop it or mask it. They mean more than anything, and they're the quickest way to make him realize just how much shit he's shouldering and bottling up.

Currently his greatest fear is the Federation finding out about or asking him questions related to Ender King. Normally he'd at least prepare how to answer such questions. In this case he has no clue what to say, which really stresses him out. And he knows fleeing the conversation wouldn't go well.

He doesn't typically do anything special with his hair but goddamn it looks good in a short braid. He only ever does smth with his hair for certain events, like Festa Junina. And that was mostly because Lullah insisted.

If the Federation one day declared every islander needed some kinda career for whatever weird reason, Phil's would be photography.

Don't listen to his complaining. He REALLY likes that there's so many birds around the house. Prefers them outside but he likes them around regardless.

[reimeichan]

DID is weird because I find myself gathering shit on critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy 14 and then go "why tf am I doing this I hate this so much" and questioning all my life choices that led up to this point where I'm wasting my life away gathering and gathering and gathering materials with no end in sight and then switch to doing dungeons to level up my combat classes, 30 minutes later I'm like "actually I wanna go back to gathering I dont even know why I was running dungeons I'm not a fan of doing dungeons", then 15 minutes later going "god fucking dammit I'm doing it again I fucking hate gathering, back to dungeons" and then-

Like I know to anyone who doesn't know that we're a system this sounds like we just keep doing shit we don't enjoy doing in the game but it's definitely kinda amusing/annoying how we keep accidentally switching with each other when we're playing and are unable to just let whoever is fronting enjoy doing what they do lol.

Oh, and it's also funny how we might switch mid-raid and suddenly have to scramble to remember what all our buttons do while internally screaming trying to also not die to the boss.

In the past it was a LOT more frustrating though as we didn't realize why we'd be enjoying the game then all of a sudden go "I actually really hate doing this and I don't know why I keep doing this". Made it really easy to get mad at myself and then just drop whatever game I was playing, not because I wasn't having fun but because it was so confusing trying to understand why I kept doing things I didn't enjoy. I thought it was like, a weird need to minmax and thus doing stuff I hated just to eek out every little bit of experience/money/whatever, but that didn't explain why I would earnestly try to stop to try to enjoy the game however I wanted to only to keep going back to the same things that I hated doing over and over.

Anyways, it's kinda silly but knowing that I have DID and these other versions of me has really helped my frustration in this regard. And I know I'm talking about video games in this post, but this also reflects other aspects of my life, from friendships to work to even just grocery shopping. I'm now more accepting of these weird inconsistencies about myself and it's made understanding my life and my actions so much less confusing and frustrating.

[greenerteacups]

If there was one major plot element that you could change in the original canon what would it be?

The Marauders' deaths. With the exception of James, I don't think any of the Marauders die in a way that's narratively suitable — or, to be more particular, they die in a way suitable for a narrative I don't like very much. James is an acceptable (though, obviously, tragic) death to me because it completes his arc: he's an obnoxious, arrogant bully who grows into a selfless soldier on the side of the light, and lays down his life as a final gesture of abnegation. It's not Proust, but it's good, right? His death represents a symbolic triumph over Voldemort because it's something Voldemort would never do.

None of the others make the same kind of sense for their subplots. Sirius dies at the Ministry because Harry fucks up and lets his abandonment issues override his judgment, and while that's a compelling moment for Harry — whose hamartia is a trauma-forged combination of hot-headedness and desperate fear of losing people — it's not for Sirius. Sirius's problem in Book 5 is that he's emotionally stunted by his years of imprisonment and refuses to grow up, because he's clinging to the life he thinks — rightly — he should have gotten to have. This is made painfully clear in the Department of Mysteries, wherein some of his last words to Harry are "Nice one, James!" He refuses to treat Harry like the child he is, and he keeps acting like he's this fun-uncle type, blowing off rules and pissing off Mom (Molly), because that's the dynamic he should have had with Harry if Lily and James had lived. Sirius doesn't want to be Harry's guardian and role model. He wants a brother and a nephew, and he's trying to force Harry to be both, because he's all he has left of that family. His death doesn't tie any of those threads; they're left dangling. That's a valid narrative move — every death cuts a story short, and you can't give everybody an arc — but I loved Sirius. Giving Harry the "grieving loss of a parent" arc that was originally meant for Ron (Arthur was the original Big Death of the OOTP, in JKR's drafts) also means that Ron spends a lot of Book 6 without anything to do, whereas Harry goes through what's essentially a more intense version of the grieving-and-recovery arc he did after Cedric's death.

Remus, on the other hand, is just — first off, a Mess, I agree with so few of the choices made with Remus in the later books, but let's say he's deep in the trauma, the grieving, and whatever living among werewolves as a spy does for your mental health. So he gets into this will-they-won't-they with Tonks, gets married, tries to abandon pregnant wife, then goes back and gets to be with his wife and son for about half a year before dying, with said wife, in battle. Okay. So like:

I think the Remus Weirdness in Book 7 is actually an attempt to close a plot hole, which is that the Horcrux Hunt happens completely without adult supervision, despite the fact that there are lots of adults the Golden Trio could and should ask for help. Harry's insistence that he doesn't want to risk anyone's life except for Ron and Hermione's is, while understandable as a character move, utterly ridiculous, because the other Order members are risking their lives anyway. One of the biggest holes is Remus and Tonks, who are (a) both already targets for Voldemort because of who they are, and so have nothing to lose, but also (b) both care for Harry on a personal level, and would never accept his reasons for pushing them away. So Teddy Lupin is conceived in order to bench Tonks, who's safely out of commission while pregnant. But that leaves Remus, who probably in fact would have super complicated torn-loyalty feelings about the situation, and who is scarred and traumatized and probably has enough abandonment issues to try and walk out, but — in my view — never resolves any of those things. He doesn't suddenly realize that he loves Tonks and wants to be with her, or feel a sense of duty to his son; when Harry's justly furious at Remus abandoning his kid in Harry's name, Remus gets pissy about it and goes "well, if you don't want my help, fine," and leaves. Which is, again, fine, a character flaw, it's childish, he's allowed to be, and he is, in fact, similar to Sirius and James — but it left a bad taste in my mouth, because that's one of the last conversations we get with Remus, and it's such an impoverished vision of his bonds with others. It doesn't delve deeply into why he loves Tonks or Harry, or the substance of his conflict between them; like always with the Marauders, he just invokes James, and Harry throws James's name right back at him, and it ends there.

And then he dies, so that baby Teddy Lupin can be an orphan, and we can do a parallel to baby Harry Potter. Even though we don't see Teddy Lupin on the page ever, so we have no idea what that comparison means, or how their experiences compliment or contrast one another, or literally anything more substantive than the series beginning and ending on the same event. Which: great. Okay. To quote a Roger Ebert review that I think about, on average, once every thirty-six hours:

"J.K. Rowling has learned from better novels that authors sometimes create narrative parallels, but she has not learned why."

[praise-suns-and-chill]

On another post a few comments, mine included, had a little chat about what Mashita's thought proccess could have been, during the Confession in the second game.

So I decided to write a little One Shot about it!

This includes Spoilers for Case 7 in Death Mark 2, as well as the DLC of Death Mark 1.

THIS? 

"I'm not gonna be surprised by anything that comes out of his damn mouth." 

Well. 

Fuck. 

He was really eating those words now, huh. 

He could only stare with eyes ripped open as Yashiki explained, his words as trembling as his hands, his eyes avoiding everyone else. 

In fear of judgement? 

Probably. 

Shame? 

Definitely. 

This was wrong. 

This was wrong on every level. 

He was never one to stick to rules but this? 

MURDER??? 

Mashita couldn't even speak at first as Yashiki just continued explaining. No, there had to be something else, every second now he would mention that they did find that girl again alive, there had to be more, there had to be. 

This was wrong. 

But there wasn't. 

There wasn't and he looked as guilty as ever. Having just confessed. 

To murder. 

"You must be kidding me." 

Words uttered in pure disbelief. 

This wasn’t happening. 

There is no way. 

"To think you'd kill someone..." 

Actually, he didn't want to think about that. Not a single bit.  

Yes, everyone had the potential to murder, he knew that better than most, but this was Yashiki. Compassionate to a stupid, suicidal degree Yashiki. 

"Don't blame him for that! He was controlled by the Departed!" 

Oh great, the brat was talking. Mashita glared at her out of reflex alone. 

Why the fuck was she so defensive anyways? Nobody would react like that after their best friend just got killed, what kind of weirdo was this girl??

"Insanity or not, murder is still murder", he snapped back, before his eyes stared back at Yashiki. 

He felt more like he was the one going insane, his mind completely elsewhere as old training just kicked in. 

It was the only thing that made sense right now. 

"Article 199, a person who kills another person is punished by the death penalty or life imprisonment or for a definite term of no less than five years." 

He felt sick of even thinking of this as an option. He rattled down those words out of pure habit, as he had many times before, in the Academy back in the day and his job later. 

"I'd slap the cuffs on you myself if I had them with me." 

He should, but he wouldn't. Why was he saying that, he wouldn't, because Yashiki would never kill anyone. 

God fucking damnit. 

His heart was racing as fast as his mind, his entire body tense, ready to spring at the threat and yet violently rejecting the very notion that there was a threat to begin with. 

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong, wrong, fuck! 

But Yashiki? 

Everyone else, maybe. 

He'd believe Shou, not planned but in affect, too impulsive. Ai too, stronger than she looked, against a stalking fan maybe. Daimon? Doctor, there was always a chance of malpractice. Yasuoka? That old hag definitely had a skeleton in her closet somewhere, if only because she dug it up once because the bones had some weird powers. 

The man who watched the only friends he had get attacked? 

The man who watched his friends get controlled to attack him? 

The man who watched half his friends get cursed into a coma and nearly die. 

The man who was nearly killed himself by the same goddamn spirit.  

The same man who after ALL THAT, still trembling in shock and trauma, barely aware of his own body, STILL refused to think about himself, just for fucking ONCE. 

The same man who looked at a dead spider, the remains of that goddamn spirit and still decided to show compassion to it before ANYTHING else-! 

...

Oh. 

Of course. 

And his body instantly relaxed, as did his mind.  

It didn't make any sense, possession or not. He would never do it. So he didn't. 

"...Let me just say one thing." 

It wasn't like him to get distracted. He had nearly forgotten what case they were even working on. 

"The law only applies if the victim is human." 

[doberbutts]

The other thing I liked about Being Human (US) is that the core cast are all incredibly flawed and damaged people who still love each other at their core and genuinely want things to work even though they make spectacularly stupid choices at times along the way.

Aiden is incredibly easy to trigger due to his laundry list of past and present issues and when he's triggered he doesn't shut down or go quiet. He gets ANGRY. He gets *violent*. There was a joke between my friend and I when we watched over the summer and holidays that he was a big fan of using neck snaps to solve his problems but was startlingly bad at dealing with the fallout except by continuing to kill people to cover up his problems. When he fights with Josh he gets personal, he's so combative and confrontational, and he wears that prickly exterior whenever someone sees through the stone mask and pokes at a fleshy bit a little too hard.

But we also see Aiden break down and cry. We see him sobbing uncontrollably as he loses control again and again and again. Every time he manages to scrape together a bit of happiness before either he or someone else fucks it all up and it blows up in his face. He wants to stop. He doesn't want to hurt people anymore. And he can't figure out how to do it because it's like hurting people and driving them away or killing them is the only thing he really knows how to do.

So many times while watching I would yell "talk to your fucking friends asshole" and he would continue to either shut them out or get close but lose his nerve halfway through and remain silent. He wanted that connection very badly and simply couldn't make it happen. The few times he did open up to Josh or Sally he was well received, which I think was really a bright point in the writing because it showed the audience that the problem was that Aiden couldn't figure out how to be vulnerable due to [redacted plot things] rather than because his friends were jerks.

And overall I think that balanced well with Sally, who's various exploits *also* usually blew up in her face, and Josh, who oscillates wildly between "sad and more than a little afraid of himself" and "picks weird hills to die on because it's literally the only way he manages to feel any amount of control in his life". Josh and Sally both frequently vent about things to Aiden, but he almost never reciprocated until pretty close to the end of the series. He hides things from them, he dodges questions, he finds convenient excuses to not talk about stuff, even when they prod and pry to get something out of him.

He only explains after things hit the fan and everything goes to shit. Usually, because his friends have been there to catch him when he falls, and he has to tell them *something* about why there's so much blood on his hands (sometimes literally) yet again. And they get mad at him, but ultimately they forgive him, because fuck, a werewolf and a ghost aren't really in any place to judge now are they. Even then, it's not usually the whole truth.

(And it's interesting, in the what-if scenario where they weren't there to catch him as he fell, just how bad things got)

But then he's afraid he's going to lose Josh, and he's afraid he's going to lose Sally, and he's afraid he's going to die, and he goes to Josh, and he says "I'm scared, and I don't know what to do".

And Josh stops, and realizes that Aiden has never asked him for help, not really, and has never actually been vulnerable with him, and has always worn the brave and stoic face even as things are melting down at catastrophic levels. And he says, I'm here.

Aiden is such a bad victim and he makes some real stinkers of bad choices along the way but they make sense for his character once you learn about all the shit that's happened since he became a vampire and how fucked up things got for him before he realized he needed out. And he backslides and he backslides and he backslides but he keeps trying because what's the point if he doesn't at least try.

Anyway the hill I will die on is that this show would have done numbers on tumblr if it came out slightly later. Ah well.

[beelsbignaturals]

🦂DEMON FORMS: ASMODEUS 💄

AN: Unfortunately, the concept of hypnosis is a major theme for my OCD so I can't really write him as creepy as I want to. Alas, I tried. Fucked up Asmo supremacy. also I was tryna keep this sfw in terms of *spicy* content bc thats for a different post hehehe. As always, feel free to check out my obey me world building tag for more demon headcanons and since con is over I can work on requests!

Inspiration for this part: literally everyone who has ever drawn Asmo with a scorpion tail like he DESERVES also @noecoded bc they have the BEST Asmo art ever. Also @princessasmosprincess has been such a major help in writing this! ily Michi 😘 thank u for letting me pick ur brain bby

TWs: Bugs (scorpions), mind manipulation, alcohol (part 4), vauge reference to nsfw stuff (part 3), demons being demons, body horror? Maybe?

● Level 1.5. you know, in the Percy Jackson books, how Aphrodite appears as whatever you think is most beautiful? Asmo is kinda like that. Not fully, but if you are more attracted to say, dark hair, he will have darker hair. (Cute note: if you fall in love with him for realsies, this stops happening, and you just see. Him.) Like Belphie, he is alot more… mental with how he freaks people out. Even without hypnotism, if he asks you to do something, you feel like you want to agree. Only Asmo can make you think taking out the garbage when it's his turn is YOUR idea. He glows under blacklights because… scorpion. His teeth look normal from a distance, but up close, you can see how sharp they are. His eyes shift through every possible color, changing each time he blinks. His pupils are heart shaped. He gets cold really easily and will make it everyone's problem.

"MC! I'm going to freeze to death, please, save me!" The overly dramatic Avatar of Lust drapes himself across your lap, intent of using you as a personal space heater. Nights in the Devildom just get so cold! His poor, beautiful heart can't handle the subzero temperatures! And of course the last argument between Levi and Mammon managed to complete destroy the heating system. So it's your solemn duty as Asmo's favorite human (don't tell Solomon) to keep him warm!

● Level 2. His nails get longer and sharper, and even when talking, it sounds like he's singing. If he actually starts singing, you will find yourself dancing or lulled into a false sense of security depending on the song. He actually caused the dancing plague this way! He is capable of using his carapace as a sort of natural corset, controlling each segment to give himself the desired silhouette. Somehow, Asmo is wonderful at knowing exactly what you desire. Not just in a sexual way, he can figure out your ambitions after one conversation. If he decides to talk to you, everything else will kind of...fade away. How can you focus on anything when his eyes fade from pink to purple to blue... What were you talking about again?

Asmo thought the house was empty, that it was safe for him to sing without consequence. Unfortunately, you came home early, which led to the awkward incident where you began dancing the moment you walked inside. At first, you thought you were hit by some curse, screaming in surprise as your body moves on its own. Hearing your shrieks, Asmo rushes downstairs, fussing over you. Luckily, you weren't under his spell long, so when he stopped singing, you stopped dancing. He was very apologetic after that.

● Level 3. He grows several extra limbs on his sides. They are small little insect legs that are basically useless. He likes to annoy his brothers by tickling them with his weird lil bug arms. But otherwise, Asmo is EXTREMELY self conscious about them because bugs aren't stereotypically cute. He can keep his wings bc they are cute. BUT HE ALSO HAS A SCORPION TAIL. The stinger is heart-shaped. It's adorable. It also has venom capable of making you so horny you die! Which is... slightly less adorable.

It was quite the sight, seeing Asmo, shirtless with several small arachnid limbs, covered in a hard exoskeleton as he chases Satan around the house, claiming he needs to be less grumpy. Satan threw a pillow at his brother, causing you to laugh. Bad move. Now Asmo has locked his eyes on his next target. You.

● Level 4. You know how so many Greek monsters are giant creatures with the face of a beautiful woman? That's Asmo. He has the body of a scorpion-if a scorpion was the size of a horse - and face so gorgeous, you might cry or go blind. He sings so sweetly to lure in prey. Basically, he's a siren-scorpion monster from hell! He usually won't take this form because, honestly, he thinks it's ugly. So for the most part you are only going to see a scorpion with Asmo's face scuttling around if he is feeling particularly emotional. Like when he gets a little bit too tipsy and his insecurities plague his mind.

It was rare Asmo would get properly drunk. At least the type of drunk where he is miserable. Usually it's a very... drunk girl in the club bathroom who just LOOOVES your shoes and wants to know who did your eyelash extensions 🥺 sort of energy. So hearing straight up wailing from his room after a long night at the Fall was...unexpected. What was even more surprising, was what you found when you opened his door to try and comfort the demon. A large scorpion with the head of the Avatar of Lust, standing in front of a broken mirror with mascara streaming down his face. You only hesitate a moment before making your presence known. Asmo starts to cry more, sobbing about how terrible he feels having you see him like this. In the form that he considers the definition of ugly. You are quick to reassure him, naming each thing you find beautiful about his more demonic looking self. Like the way his armored body catches the light, reflecting rainbows across each segment. Or how his stinger is heart shaped. Or the fact that even without proper hands, his hair and makeup is still flawless. Aside from minor damage due to his tears. Soon enough, you have a giant scorpion sleeping on your lap like an overgrown cat. You decide not to mention it in the morning.