#like how old is she?? is she one of the multiple centuries old humans? was she just a regular 40smth year old woman who joined??

[hellotailor]

Apologies if you've already done a post on this and I've just missed it, but can I ask for your take on the pyjamas worn by the cast of interview with vampire? I mean technically they're not a 100% necessary item, but just from a quick look there seems to be a lot of variety and they do change over the series

ok, i’m delighted by the specificity of this question, and it turns out that i have a VERY extensive answer.

there’s a lot of sleepwear in IWTV due to the volume of bedroom/coffin scenes, and like any other outfit, these costumes are shaped by characterization and historical period. for instance claudia initially wears a long, modest, frilly nightgown - an old-fashioned style that plays into her girlish doll wardrobe purchased by louis and lestat. however her sleepwear matures over the years, including a trendy lace nightdress with bloomers in the 1920s (note the rectangular silhouette), and a pink padded jacket/pastel robe outfit in 1940s paris. she's following contemporary trends while charting a visible trajectory from child to adult.

when i wrote about the Théâtre des Vampires coven costumes, i noted that while their wardrobes share certain themes (ie. monochrome patterns and stripes), they each have specific personal tastes. that holds true for sleepwear. in the S2 finale we see the coven going to bed in their coffins, with Eglee in a gorgeous (maybe 1940s?) robe, Celeste in a striped pajama suit reflecting her 1920s-30s cabaret style, and Armand in a plain grey set of prison jammies because he's Suffering.

of course, the star pajama outfits all belong to Louis and Lestat, playing into their wealthy domestic aesthetic in S1. they receive multiple bedroom/coffin scenes, and Lestat's gold Leyendecker robe is obviously iconic.

touching on the historical side of things for a moment, pajamas (as in a matching buttondown top and loose pants) were popularized in the western world in the 19th century, as a repurposed south asian import - kind of like how banyans became trendy among the upper classes in 18th century england. this was when loungewear started to catch on as a concept, both in terms of dressing gowns and smoking jackets (which you could wear while socializing at home) and actual pajamas, which became unisex in the 1920s.

back in his human life in the 18th century, Lestat probably slept naked or wore a shapeless white nightgown (and possibly a nightcap, the sexiest of garments). but in New Orleans he adopts Louis' lifestyle, which involves a luxurious wardrobe of fashionable menswear. they're both into shopping and looking good, and i think they enjoy the ritual of getting dressed together each night.

(i also have a personal theory that Lestat may prefer to sleep fully clothed because his formative traumatic memory involves waking up naked in the dark. after all, he doesn't need pajamas to stay warm, and he doesn't have a recent habit of wearing them in his human life like Louis does. then again, maybe he just enjoys having a new outfit for every occasion!)

in Dubai, we only get one scene (iirc) with Louis and Armand in their pajamas, lying in bed wearing outfits that tie into the striped prison bar imagery of their bedroom. Armand is in warmer brown tones (like his Paris wardrobe) while Louis is in black and grey, like the rest of his Dubai outfits. i'd also note that this is the one place where they're genuine in private, meaning that they aren't putting on a show for Daniel. so this is potentially Armand's most relaxed costume in the present day.

the fact that they're wearing this kind of old-school sleepwear feels very appropriate for their whole deal, imo. in the 21st century, a lot of people just sleep in boxers and t-shirts or whatever. there's a slightly 20th century vibe to wearing a full set of buttondown pajamas, and Armand's outfit reads as more stylish (and possibly more wealthy) than your average millennial guy. which makes sense! they're old men.

i think we can assume that every single thing in their Dubai home is ferociously expensive, even when it doesn't need to be. considering the way Louis gives himself a modern makeover in the finale, i do wonder if he'll switch over to sleeping in t-shirts etc next season, or if he'll stick with variations of the same sleepwear he wore during his mortal life.

p.s. all of my iwtv design posts are available on this tag!

[incorrectfatui]

Dottore: *dies*  Signora: Timer starts now! When is he coming back? I say two months!  Crucabena: Bullshit. One month.  Pierro: Nah, half a month.  Pantalone, new to the Fatui, sobbing: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DOTTORE JUST DIED!  Columbina, scratching chin in thought: One week.

[tomriddleslove]

What’s left of me?

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where your pursuit for excellence leads you down a path of self destruction, and you’re slowly loosing yourself. You didn’t expect a certain boy in your year would be your saving grace. Alternatively: Mattheo makes you realise you’re more than what you think you are.

A/N: I guess this could very easily be like a prequel to the other mattheo one shot ‘i’m here’. This is definitely a bit self indulgent but we all have our things 😻😻

Warnings: Allusions to overdosing (brief), mentions of not eating.

Songs: Nothings New - Rio Romeo

18 days.

18 days till you would be finished with all of this.

Technically, it would actually be 408 days till you finished school and graduated from this godforsaken place, but 18 more till you finished with exams.

You weren’t sure how many more hours you could spend hunched over indecipherable handwriting, pouring over text till your eyes stung and your back ached. Surrounded by a stack of books and rolls of parchment, you couldn’t even begin to figure out where you ended and the library began. You had taken up a huge table (that could seat at least 4) for the better part of 17 hours, sat on the same chair since 6:00 am.

You stifle a small groan of pain as you roll your wrist, stiff and sore from the hell that was ancient runes.

There are ink splotches all over your skin, and you’re sure the amount of work you were pouring into this stopped being effective nearly 5 hours ago.

Your eyes flicker up and scan over the once-packed library that had slowly dwindled down to a few students, half of whom were in the same boat as you.

To you, being the last person in the library was a huge sign of success. It meant you were more dedicated and more hard-working.

In reality, the truth couldn’t be any further from that, but in your mind, if you weren’t milking yourself over every last piece of work it simply wasn’t being done right.

The hushed murmurs and sounds of parchment being unfurled fade into the background as your quill scratches furiously against the parchment, mind running at a million miles an hour.

You ignore the pang in your stomach as you work; you haven’t eaten today. You didn’t want to get up at any point to get food, for fear of your place being taken.

Now, you didn’t want to get up for another reason. It was well past the library's open hours and Madame Pince was angrily fussing about, bustling around everyone as she got them to leave. A testament to how long you had been there, she didn’t even seem to notice you, and you were worried getting up and walking about would break this sort of invisibility shield you had going on.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t really drunk any water either. You brought your bottle with you but had forgotten to fill it up. It was fine though, the human body could last for 3 days without water - it could wait. Your upcoming exams were far more important.

In Scandinavia, the Elder Futhark remained in use until some time around the eighth century (the time of the Eddas), when drastic changes in the Old Norse language occurred, and corresponding changes in the runic alphabet were made to accommodate the new sounds. However, unlike the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc, the Younger Futhark (as it is now called) reduced the number of runes from 24 to 16, and several runes came to represent multiple sounds. The forms of the runes were also changed and simplified.

Gods, you couldn't take this anymore. You felt sick and exhausted. You ignore the hunger that gnaws at your stomach, rubbing a hand over your face as you contemplate finishing off and going to bed.

But every time you think of stopping a horrible feeling emerges in your stomach, consuming you with anxiety. The weight of impending exams and the fear of not doing well gnawing at your determination. You glance at the clock, realizing it's well past midnight, and the library is now completely empty except for you.

Madame Pince, finally noticing your presence, approaches with a disapproving look. "You know, the library does close at a certain hour. I can't have students staying here all night," she scolds, but her tone softens as she sees the exhaustion in your eyes.

“Sorry. I lost track of time” You mumble, haphazardly cramming your stuff into your bag. You get up, and the room spins for a second. You stumble but manage to catch yourself, holding onto the table as Madam Pince reaches out a hand to help you recover.

“You need to take care of yourself. No exam is worth this much stress,” She says, eyeing you with concern. If only she knew how far that was from the truth. You felt as though you had so little to your name. Performing well, overachieing. That was what you were known for. It was the only thing you felt was yours. Everyone else had character, they were distinctly themselves. They had hobbies, interests, and friendships that defined them. But for you, it was always about excelling academically. Without that, you became nobody. You were no more than the number on your papers, and the reminder weighed down on you like an unrelenting burden.

By some miracle you manage to stumble down the empty halls of the castle into the Slytherin common room, which seemed paradoxically warm considering its grandiose stone structure and dark, moody lighting. You carelessly drop your bag onto a table closest to the fireplace, trudging up to your room as you battle the sleep that threatens to consume you.

It's dark, and your roommates have long gone to bed.

“Lumos” You murmur, hiding the blinding light that emerges from the tip of your wand with the lining of your school robes, dimming it slightly. You grope blindly at your bedside drawer, stopping when you feel the familiar smooth glass bottle, that fits perfectly in your palm. You slip it into the pocket of your robes, slowly shutting the drawer as you make your way back down to the common room. You dismiss the light that shines from your wand, tossing it onto the sofa as you take a seat on the floor, in front of the low table. You read the instructions on the back of the small bottle as if you hadn’t been consuming this religiously for the past month.

Wideye potion User Guidance:

Take no more than one teaspoon every 6 hours. Effects will last for up to 8 hours. Excessive use of this potion may lead to adverse effects, and in rare cases, severe bodily harm. Users are advised not to use the maximum dosage for a consecutive 72 hours.

You’ve read it so many times, you were sure you could recite it by heart. Choosing not to heed any warnings, you pop open the cork and down the whole bottle in one go. The rancid taste of the potion burns, eliciting a shudder down your spine as you swallow down the bile that threatens to emerge. Pocketing the empty glass bottle, you stretch your arms before retrieving your books, ready to continue working.

If you were lucky, the potion might give you a boost of energy for about 3 hours or so. You had been taking it so much you had developed a sort of immunity to it, and the effects were not as potent as they used to be. The sacrifice of your well-being for the sake of productivity had become a routine, a desperate attempt to squeeze every ounce of time and focus out of your exhausted mind and body.

You have attempted to brew a stronger concoction, in the misplaced hopes that increasing the potency would counteract the effect of the immunity. However, the violent cramps and palpitations it had given you very quickly told you that wouldn't work.

You knew it was bad. It was causing irreversible damage to your body, killing you at worst. It simply wasn't sustainable. But you couldn't drag yourself out of that mindset.

Failure. Nobody.

You gritted your teeth and carried on working.

You managed to get through another potions essay, and the time on your watch read 1:00 am.

You could carry on for longer, right?

You zone out for a second, staring off at the orange embers that emerged from the fireplace, shining bright for what seemed like a millisecond before falling to the floor, turning into nothing but ash.

The orange embers flicker, and for a moment, you see yourself in them – a fleeting brightness that threatens to be extinguished. The battle between ambition and self-preservation rages on as you grit your teeth and carry on working, oblivious to the embers slowly falling into nothingness, much like your own fading sense of self.

“Why on earth are you up at this hour doing work?” A voice calls from behind you, and the momentary intrusion shocks you, sending a burst of energy through you as you spin around.

Flopping down onto the sofa next to you, leaning back with his legs lazily outstretched, was none other than Mattheo Riddle. Clad in a plain grey sweatshirt and black jeans, he eyes you with curiosity, smelling distinctively of smoke. He had most likely been out, as he so usually was at this hour. You shrug, turning back to your work.

“Exams. Need to revise” You mumble, voice cracking. You swallow, massaging your dry throat as you grimace, trying to get back to your writing.

“Revise? Merlin, you're the smartest person in our year. You don't need to be revising” Matthep leans forward, plucking a piece of parchment from your pile and examining it with a raised eyebrow.

You snatch it back, a protective instinct kicking in despite the fatigue. You hated that sentiment. Despised it, even. People always assumed your performance came naturally. That you were simply born with the ability to do well. No one seemed to consider what you had to do to get to that point, how you wore yourself down, day in and day out, till you either passed out from exhaustion or pain, neglecting your most basic needs.

"I might be the 'smartest' person, but that doesn't mean I can afford to slack off," you reply, a hint of frustration in your voice. The adrenaline from the sudden interruption starts to ebb away, leaving you feeling even more drained.

Mattheo leans back, momentarily caught off guard by your defensiveness. He had never seen you this on edge. He was so accustomed to seeing you as this familiar presence during the school day his partner for the many lessons that he didn’t have his friends in. The two of you would work together and on rare occasions, hang out with one another in the common room as well. It was a rather unlikely duo, the king of Slytherin and the academic prodigy. Yet, More often than not Mattheo found himself seeking out your presence. He never admitted it outright, but he hugely admired you. Your intelligence, your drive, it all captivated him. There were times when he hoped he could be only half the person you were.

How funny it was, for you felt the very same thing when you saw him. He seemed content. Happy. He was loved by nearly everyone. Popular, with a fun social life. He had everything you wanted without putting in any of the work.

You wanted to be like him. But you weren’t. And if you wanted anything like what he had, you had to work damn hard for it. So that's what you did. With a small sigh, you turn back to your work.

“Hey,” He says gently, his voice softening slightly. "I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes.” He apologies, brows furrowed as he looks at your back facing him.

“It's fine. I should be saying sorry. You didn't say anything, I just…. I’m just a bit tired, that's all.” You mumble, apologising as you get up. You stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you wearily rub your eyes.

“I'm gonna run up to my room and grab some more parchment. I’ll be down in a second,” You say, shrugging off your school robe as you turn to walk away. You ascend the stairs leading to your dorm, tossing your robe onto the sofa next to Mattheo as you do so.

Your robe slides off the sofa and hits the floor, a faint clinking sound echoing through the empty room as you disappear.

Curious, Mattheo looks down at your carelessly discarded robe. He reaches down, picking it up. It weighs heavier than it should be, and Mattheo can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, He eyes the now empty staircase before reaching into your pocket, fingers brushing against a smooth glass vial.

Not just one, but a few.

Frowning, he turns out your pocket, and four identical glass vials tumble into his lap. Picking one up, his frown only deepens as he reads the label.

“Wideye potion?” He mutters to himself, the confusion on his face morphing into something else as the pieces fit in place.

He had admired you for your intelligence and drive, and now he was confronted with the reality of your struggles. The contrast between your achievements and the seemingly carefree moments he sought with you becomes stark. He berates himself for not having noticed early, for having let you fall down such a destructive path.

Jaw clenched, he gazes at the piles of books you had been working through, rolling the empty vials between his fingers as the sound of your approaching footsteps snaps him out of his thoughts.

You pause in confusion, noticing the scrutinising depression plastered on his face as he looks up at you, rolls of parchment bundled in your hands.

"What's the Wideye potion for?" Mattheo questions, his voice cutting through the silence with an uncomfortable heaviness. He holds up the empty vials as evidence, his gaze piercing through the exhaustion in your eyes.

Caught off guard by the confrontation, you glance down at the vials and then meet Mattheo's eyes. A brief moment of silence hangs in the air, the crackling embers of the fireplace filling the empty silence.

“Research. For uh, potions.” You respond, internally berating yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse.

Mattheo's expression remains stern, a mix of frustration and genuine concern etched on his face.

"Don't bullshit me," he says, his tone direct and uncompromising. "I found these in your pocket, and 'potions research' is a shit excuse. I’m going to ask you again. What’s the wideye potion for?"

You shift uncomfortably, feeling small under his scrutinising gaze You clear your throat, speaking.

"It's just to stay awake, you know? To keep going. I only take it in extreme circumstances" you explain, your voice betraying the exhaustion that has settled in.

Mattheos jaw clenches, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks to the side with a sigh, visibly frustrated.

“Extreme? And what would that be, hmm? Because right now I'm looking at four empty bottles, and God knows how many more you’ve thrown away.” He snaps, his expression softening as he looks at you.

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to find the right words. Why on earth were you close to tears? Why did you feel like crying?

“I-” You start, trailing off as you stare at the floor.

Mattheo cuts through the silence, his tone still stern but laced with concern. "This isn't okay. You're smart, and you know better. You can't keep doing this to yourself. What if something happens? What if you collapse or get seriously sick? It's not worth it."

After a moment, Mattheo's expression softens, and he exhales deeply. "When was the last time you ate?" he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

Shit.

You pause, hesitating before admitting quietly, "Breakfast...yesterday."

Mattheo's features tighten at your admission, his eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration, anger, and genuine worry. He rises from his seat and strides towards you, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

"Yesterday? Are you serious?" he says sharply, his voice carrying a weight of both concern and disbelief.

You remain silent, unable to meet his eyes, feeling the shame and vulnerability washing over you.

“Seriously? Fuck, what’s wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?” He chastises you, and you snap.

“I have to! You don't fucking get it, do you? I don't have anything else to fall back on.” You start, dropping the parchment onto the table in front of you.

Mattheo's expression shifts from concern to confusion as you lash out. "What are you talking about? You have plenty more than just academics. You're talented, you're smart, and people care about you. Why are you reducing yourself to just grades?"

You scoff, a bitter smile playing on your lips. "Talented? Smart? What does that even mean? It's just a facade, a cover-up for the fact that without these achievements, I'm nothing. I don't have friends; I don't have hobbies or interests. What am I without my grades?"

Mattheo tries to interject, "You're a person with-"

But you cut him off, "No, you don't get it! I'm just a number, a ranking, a test score. Everything I am is tied to how well I perform academically. Do you know what it's like to feel like the only thing you're good at is studying, and even that's slipping away?" You snap anger evident in your tone as you spin around to face him, your weary eyes meeting his.

“It’s the same thing every single day. I wake up, bury myself in books, and push myself to the brink just to feel like I matter. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't talk to anyone. I’ve spent my whole life isolating myself and neglecting my most basic needs for this! If I stop now, then what's left of me?”

Tears start to well up in your eyes, and you hate yourself for showing such vulnerability. Mattheo's stern demeanour softens as he watches you unravel.

"I can't stop, Mattheo. I can't afford to. Because if I do, what's left of me?" Your voice trembles.

Mattheo's heart drops at your words, guilt and hurt clawing at his insides. He can’t fathom the idea of you suffering so much, and him being blind to it. How could you not notice how incredible of a person you are beyond all of this? He’d give anything in the world for you to see yourself through his eyes. For you to feel the way he feels when he's with you, even for a second. To know that he’d do anything you asked him to because he cared for you. Not the one who gets outstanding on all their tests.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mattheo finally speaks, his voice softer, genuine concern written across his face.

You shake your head, a mix of frustration and desperation in your eyes. “Because you wouldn’t understand. No one does. They just see the grades, the perfect student. They don’t see the mess behind it all. And I can’t let them. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

Mattheo moves closer, his expression shifting. “You’re wrong. I do understand. Maybe not completely, but I want to. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You scoff, wiping away a tear. “Why? What do you care? You have everything, popularity, friends, a life. I’m just the study partner, the smart one. I can’t burden you with this.”

Mattheo remains silent for a second, before he speaks.

“Every other Sunday, you go down to Hogsmesde and buy a hamper of sweets form Honeydukes. You take it to the children’s school and volunteer there for an hour. Everytime you visit, you make their day.” He starts.

"You're not just grades," he says, his voice gentle. "You have quirks that make you who you are. Like the way you absentmindedly tap your foot when you're deep in thought. Or how you always carry a small notebook, and I bet it's filled with more than just class notes. I've seen you doodle in the margins."

He continues, "You have a wicked sense of humor, even if you don't show it to everyone. I've heard you snort-laugh during our study sessions. And don't even get me started on your taste in music.How you call that dastardly jazz music, i’ll never understand, but you can’t resist humming along to the tunes of the Wizarding Wireless Network when you're studying. Your fondness for Chocolate Frogs and your inexplicable aversion to pumpkin juice.”

Mattheo's eyes light up, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recalls more details. "Remember that time in Charms class when you made your quill dance across the room just to see if you could do it? Or when you brewed a prank potion that turned the water in the Prefects' bathroom blue for a week? You have a mischievous side that not many people get to see." He continues, looking down at you sincerely. He remains silent for a second, eyes scanning over your face before he steps back, sighing.

“I don’t know how to do this emotional, sappy bullshit. I don’t do it. But with you, I do. I want to. Other people want to. That’s what you do.” He says, voice quiet.

You remain rooted to your spot, somewhere between disbelief and gratitude as you stare up at Mattheo. How did he know all that? Why did he know all that?

“You noticed?” You speak up, voice alarmingly quiet.

He looks at you as though you’ve just asked him whether the sky is blue.

“Of course i’ve noticed. It’s impossible not to.” He murmurs, and you know he’s being honest.

Tears prick in your eyes again, and it’s as though all that exhaustion and neglect has come crashing back down on you tenfold after Mattheo had called you out. You try blink them away but alas, you simply couldn’t. Before you can even say anything, Mattheo steps forward, pulling you into his chest as he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. He holds you tightly, not even entertaining the thought of letting go as your tears soak his sweatshirt, tentatively accepting his embrace. His heart clenches at every tear that falls from your eyes, and he can’t tell if he’s horrified or accepting of the fact that he’d give up everything to relieve you of your burdens, even if only for a day.

He rubs your back soothingly, and you can’t help but let it all out.

It’s rather cathartic, really, because you've held onto this weight for so long, and now, in Mattheo's arms, it feels like a moment of release.

As your tears eventually subside, you pull back, both embarrassed and utterly shattered. You look down, sniffling as you wipe away your tear stained eyes when Mattheo hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

People often said that the eyes were a window to the soul. You never really understood that, but in this moment, you felt as though you were gazing into the very depths of Mattheos being.

With a tenderness that betrays the boundaries of ‘just friends’ , he wipes away your tears with his thumb, looking down at you.

“Come on. Let’s get you up to rest, yeah?” He hums, quietly. You nod, having to tear yourself away from his touch.

He leans down to pack away your stuff, not letting you handle a thing as he throws your stuff over his shoulder.

“You can stay in my room, if you’d like. Theodore’s out for the night so I can take his bed.” Mattheo says.

You consider it for a second. You didn’t particularly fancy heading up to your room with Mattheo, for fear of your roommate awakening to see you in such a state. You nod, speaking.

“Yes please.” You say, voice embarrassingly hoarse from having cried so much. You pray Mattheo didn’t notice.

Of course he did. But, he chose not to draw attention to it, instead resolving to run down to the kitchen to get you a cup of tea.

You follow Mattheo into his room, which you were no stranger to. Having projects together meant endless hours of collaborating, and opting to avoid being pestered by your roommate and her friends (who had a rather amusing infatuation with Mattheo), you worked in his room instead.

“Help yourself to some clothes if you’d like. They’re on the right.” He says, carefully draping your school bag and robe onto one of the desks. You thank him, smiling softly as he cleans the mess he had left.

“Go lie down. I’ll be back in a second” He says, turning away as he exits his room. Swiftly walking down to the kitchen, his head is reeling with thoughts of you.

He chose not to confront the feeling gnawing at him in light of your breakdown. He didn’t want to deal with that just yet. In no less than 10 minutes he’s carefully treading up the stairs to the dorms once more, a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and some small crackers in the other.

You hadn’t been eating, nor drinking, and the idea of you neglecting yourself so much sent Mattheo into an uncomfortable state where he found himself riddled with anxiety.

Just friends, right?

He clicks open the door to his room with his elbow, precariously walking over with the tea and crackers in hand as he goes to set them down on his bedside table. His eyes flicker over to you, and a small smile tugs at his lips as he sees you already fast asleep, curled up under the covers. The sight of your slumber brings a warmth to Mattheo's heart. He watches you for a moment, taking in the soft rise and fall of your breath, the delicate features that are usually tense with stress now softened in sleep.

The sight brings him more peace than he wishes to admit, and the looming reality that he had to eventually confront only pressed down on him further.

But for now, he didn’t care.

Because in your peace, he found happiness. And he’s sure he’d never find anything else more beautiful.

Possessed by a wave of sentiment that betrays his usual self, he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a stand of misplaced hair behind your ear. Before he can even comprehend what he’s doing, he leans down and presses a soft , brief kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and finds himself slightly taken aback by his own actions. The quiet room, filled only with the soft sounds of your sleep, almost seems to amplify the beating of his heart.

Mattheo stands there for a moment, looking at you with a mix of tenderness and confusion. Then, shaking off the unexpected surge of emotions, he retreats to Theodores bed , slipping out of his clothes as he goes to lay down. He had to resist the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of you once again, and lets out a small sigh as he shuts his eyes.

Mattheo Riddle was not a man of sentiment. He was not soft, and he most certainly did not go out of his way for others.

You had changed that. And he couldn’t figure out whether the prospect was one he was ready to welcome.

[faithshouseofchaos]

The good in him — Spike x gn!reader

Fluffy slightly suggestive Word count 2k

Warnings — talks about killing but no actual killing and one use of Lady other than that I kept it Gender neutral.

@urfriendlywriter I used prompts — 9. kisses where their lips are barely hovering over urs, fingers tracing over ur jaw with a tantalizing gaze!!!!

10. ^ AND they plead, their voice whiny, "please, [name], please kiss me already. don't torture me.." (HELLO?? CHOOSE ME. PICK ME.)

This is not edited or beta read

When you moved to Sunnydale California you were thrown into the world of the supernatural which was predictable due to living on top of a literal gate to hell. Sure it was a bit of a strange place to live and literal monsters and demons were lurking around every corner of the small town but it was worth it in a sense. Like how you were training to become a watcher for the future and how you helped Buffy and your friends save the world from ending multiple times.

It was safe to say that the world of the supernatural was growing on you, especially Spike. Spike was a vampire, one of history's most dangerous, next to his maker Angel. He was a pain in your ass at first, constantly making fun of you and calling you several different silly names, but you couldn't deny that something was charming about him. Maybe it was how blunt and honest he was about everything or maybe it was the fact that he could quote Shakespeare off the top of his head that piqued your interest. The Shakespeare thing made a lot of sense to you when you learned that Spike was a poet in his human life.

You tried to brush off any sort of feelings towards the demon in question. You couldn't have a thing for a vampire. Especially not one that was over a century old, had tried to kill you and your friends on multiple occasions and was always going on and on about how much he was into Buffy. It was a fruitless endeavor, after all, if Buffy didn't feel anything towards him then why should you?

Despite that, you found yourself seeking him out more often. You would pass by The Bronze hoping to catch a glimpse of him, you'd make a few trips to the cemetery in the guise of patrolling only to find and talk to him, and you'd even sit through listening to his endless rambling about Buffy on the off chance he said something nice about you.

He was always there to greet you with a snarky comment. Like "Look who decided to drop in" or even "Decided to leave the comfort of your home and visit some real company" and despite how aggravating it was at times to listen to his constant banter, it was almost...welcome. You found yourself enjoying his company. He was rude and a smartass but he was also witty and charming. His quips and jabs at you and the rest of the group never really seemed to hold any malice when he made them towards you, only to Buffy and Xander. When you were with him he was almost sweet in an odd sort of way.

"You can't seriously still be hanging out with him" Buffy practically yelled at you, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Why not? What's the big deal?" You asked, not knowing why she was so worked up about you and Spike.

"The big deal is that he's evil! And a vampire! He doesn't have feelings! He's probably just using you!" She shot back angrily, the rest of the group nodding in agreement. "Not to mention he tried to kill you. Multiple times" Willow piped up, adjusting her glasses nervously. "You're wasting your time. You're going to get yourself killed" Xander said, folding his arms. You huffed and rolled your eyes. "I can take care of myself. Besides, he hasn't tried to kill or hurt me in a long time" you stated matter of factly.

"That's another thing! Why aren't you questioning why he hasn't tried to kill you or hurt you? Something isn't right about this-" Buffy said before you cut her off. "Maybe he just likes me. Have you ever thought of that?" You retorted, your tone just as sharp. Buffy opened her mouth to say something but was cut off once again by Xander.

"You can't seriously believe that. He doesn't like anyone besides himself and Buffy" he said. "That's not-" Buffy started but you interrupted her once more. "Is it so hard to believe that a guy, even a guy like Spike, could like me?" You questioned.

Giles, who had been silently standing by watching the argument unfold finally spoke up. "It's not the fact that it's impossible, but it's the fact that it's highly unlikely. Vampires can't feel like humans do" He said in his usual blunt manner. You clenched your jaw, irritation starting to wash over you. "Not all vampires are like Angel. They can feel love and affection. Spike proves that" you retorted.

"And how, exactly, does Spike prove that?" Giles asked, his tone holding a condescending note. "When I'm with him he's-" you paused, fumbling over your words.

"He's nice," you mumbled.

"Spike? Nice? That's a joke" Buffy said in disbelief. "He's nice to me. He gives me attention"

"He doesn't give you 'attention' in some sweet and loving way. He's probably just treating you how he treated Dru. Like a toy." Buffy retorted, her voice dripping with anger.

"I've seen enough over the years to know that he's a heartless demon that only cares about himself" Buffy shot back with irritation clear in her voice.

"He's not heartless! And I'm sick of all of you going on and on about how evil he is. I happen to care about him!" You shouted, your patience wearing thin.

There was a brief silence before, "You're in love with him" Xander mumbled, shock clear on his face. The room was eerily quiet as everyone stared at you with wide eyes of disbelief. Your face flushed and you averted your gaze down to the ground, embarrassed. "I, um-" you were at a loss for words. How were you supposed to tell your friends that you had feelings for the vampire they all hated?

"Is it true?" Buffy asked, her voice hard and cold. You hesitantly nodded your head, confirming your friend's suspicions. "How long have you felt this way?" Willow asked, her tone soft. "A few months.." you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt nervously. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Xander chimed in, his expression one of bewilderment. "Because I didn't want you guys to think I was insane" you admitted with a sigh. "I can't believe this..you're in love with a monster," Buffy said with an incredulous tone. Her expression was full of shock and disappointment.

“You're one to talk Buffy” you replied sarcastically. There was a brief moment of stunned silence before Buffy's eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?” She questioned, her tone turning sharp. "You say Spike is a monster but forget that you dated Angel who has a soul" you retorted, your irritation flaring up once again at the hypocrisy that was clear to see. "Angel has a soul, he's not a monster-" Buffy started but you cut her off. "He still killed people! Just because he feels bad about it now doesn't make him any better than Spike!" You exclaimed.

“You know what, I'm going home,” you replied, grabbing your coat and leaving. You stormed out of Giles' apartment, seething in anger. Your friends called out after you but you didn't care as you slammed the door behind you. You didn't feel like dealing with their judgmental bullshit. Once you were outside you paused. Now that you'd made a dramatic exit what were you supposed to do? You couldn't go home, Buffy and the gang would come after you anyway. You couldn't go to The Bronze, someone was bound to be there. So that only left one place.

With a resolute sigh, you started down the sidewalk towards the cemetery. The journey to the cemetery was silent and rather peaceful, even though it was night and any number of monsters could be hiding in the shadows. After about 10 minutes of walking, you reached your destination.

You looked around the area expecting to see a familiar mop of bleach blonde hair but you didn't. That was strange, where was he? You walked through the cemetery, checking all his usual spots but coming up empty time and time again. As the night grew on and it started to get even later you began to get worried. Sure, it wasn't like Spike could die but what if a group of angry hellhounds managed to catch up with him? You had just about finished searching through the cemetery when you heard a familiar voice call out.

"What are you doin' out here at this time of night, love?" You whirled around to see Spike standing behind you, a sly smirk on his face. The relief that washed over you was overwhelming, he was ok and not mangled or missing a limb or worse. You huffed and attempted to seem annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Looking for you, idiot" you replied. "Oh? Missed me, did ya?" He teased, sauntering over to you. You gave an exasperated sigh and attempted to look as nonchalant as humanly possible. "You're conceited, you know that? I was worried that you would've gotten yourself turned into a pile of ash" you said, feigning annoyance though you were relieved that he was ok. He chuckled and leaned down, his face only inches away from yours.

"Aww, you were worried about me? I didn't know ya cared, love" he teased, his voice holding a slightly mocking tone. You rolled your eyes and attempted to seem unfazed at his proximity.

"Don't get a big head, I was not worried about you. I just didn't want to deal with Buffy and the rest of the Scooby gang nagging me" you retorted, your voice wavering slightly. His smirk widened as he leaned impossibly close to you, his chest now brushing yours. He took a few strands of your hair in between his fingers before speaking.

"And yet here you are, all alone with a big bad vampire. Wouldn't your friends just throw a fit if they knew" he said, his tone low and sultry. You shuddered involuntarily, the close contact causing your heart rate to speed up. God, this man was insufferable.

"They would, but I don't care. And I can take care of myself, thank you very much" you argued, tilting your head up to meet his gaze properly. He let out a low chuckle, his hand finding its way to the side of your neck. He brushed his thumb over your pulse point, his smirk growing when he felt how fast your heart was beating.

"Such a fierce little thing you are, aren't you? But I wonder what they'd say if they saw us like this" he said, his voice a low murmur. Your heart fluttered, the feeling of his hands on your skin and his voice in your ear causing a fire within you. You cursed yourself, how was it that this annoying, smart-mouthed pain in the ass was able to turn you into a mess so easily.

"They'd probably tell me to stay far away from you" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he chuckled. "And would you listen to them, pet?" He questioned, his hand still lingering on your neck while the other found its way to your waist. You shivered at the feeling of his cool breath brushing across your skin. His hand on your waist was suddenly very distracting.

"Probably not" you mumbled, unable to think straight. This was dangerous, the two of you alone in the quiet darkness. His smirk deepened, his hand sliding from your neck down to your hip as he began to pull your body against his. You were now flush against his chest, your faces only inches apart from each other. You could feel the coolness of his skin through your clothes along with the faint scent of smoke and musk. Your breathing became uneven and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest from being so close to him.

His gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. "You have no idea what you do to me, love" he murmured, his voice a low husk. His grip on your waist tightened, his thumb rubbing slow and lazy circles on the exposed sliver of skin showing where your shirt had ridden up.

Every nerve in your body was on fire, your senses overrun with him. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze and finding your resolve fading rapidly. "You are a nuisance, you know that?" You murmured, half-heartedly trying to keep up the act of annoyance.

He laughed quietly, his eyes roaming over your face before resting on your lips. "You think so, do you?" He inquired, his tone holding a note of amusement. He took your chin in his hand and tilted your head up, his face now hovering over yours. His cool breath ghosted over your lips as his smirk widened. "You're a really bad liar, pet" he murmured. You shivered, the distance between you and Spike narrowing by the second. Your heart was practically in your throat and every muscle in your body was tense. "It's your fault, you're a bad influence" you mumbled, unable to keep up the facade of annoyance that was rapidly fading.

He let out a low chuckle, his thumb running across your bottom lip as he spoke. "Oh, I'm a bad influence am I?" He teased, his face only inches from yours. He continued his torturous game of keeping you just out of reach of where you wanted him, the smirk on his face only growing wider at your clear growing desperation for him.

"Please, Spike, please kiss me already. don't torture me.." you pleaded your voice had a slight whine to it. He chuckled darkly, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on you.

"Well, since you asked so nicely...." he replied slyly, his hand shifting from your chin to the back of your neck. “Who am I to deny a lady as sweet as you?”

And with that, he finally closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. You gasped at the contact, the feeling of his cool lips against yours setting your entire body on fire. His hand on your hip pulled you flush against his body as his other hand held firmly on the nape of your neck, holding you in place. You couldn't keep the soft whimper that left your lips at the action.

He chuckled against your mouth, the low sound sending a shiver down your spine. He nipped at your bottom lip before gently asking for entrance, which you gladly gave him. The feeling of his tongue slipping into your mouth sent a wave of heat through your body, your hands moving to grasp at the lapels of his duster. You were now completely at his mercy, your body aching to be as close to him as possible.

He broke the kiss for a brief moment to murmur hotly in your ear, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that" his voice holding a low whisper. You could feel the heat rising in your face at his words, a thrill coursing through you at the knowledge that he had been wanting to kiss you as much as you wanted him.

You opened your mouth to say something but you were unable to form any coherent words as he began to trail his lips down your neck and began to nip and bite at the sensitive skin.

A low moan escaped your lips, your hands clenching tightly into the material of his coat. This man was going to be the death of you.

[yarrayora]

On Adulthood in Dungeon Meshi Universe

i've seen multiple people use math to convert the ages of fantasy races in dunmeshi into a Normal Human Age, or in this case, a tallman's, as a metric of adulthood

i feel like that's obviously an unreliable way to go about it, especially since a half-elf like marcille exists, her growth is far too slow compared to the short-lived races, and we still don't know how that compares to an actual elf. and that's when you only consider the physical aspects of it.

we have chilchuck who became a dad at age 13, a year before he could be considered of age in half-foot community. maybe with that we could assume 14 in half-foot is like 18 in tallman and do the math from there? except 16 is considered the age of maturity for tallmen in-universe. and we also have to consider whether the concept of legal age exists in dunmeshi universe, because the term of "age of maturity" used in adventurer's bible could very well refers to puberty and not what the society at large consider to be adulthood.

hell, do we even know if different cultures in different continents agree on what age is considered 'adult' even when they're of the same race? probably not! the cultures in dunmeshi universe are pretty clearly insular

for example, back in the touden siblings' hometown, being a gravekeeper is considered an ill-omen, but marcille talked about it as a respectable job falin could have taken if she didn't run off to go dungeon diving with laios

people at the island don't know that rice is a staple food in the eastern continent. and so on and so forth.

so how do we figure out whether someone is an adult or not in dungeon meshi? by figuring out their role in society

let's go back to chilchuck

it could be because adventuring is really dangerous that he retires early, but considering the reasoning provided was "in terms of age" it's more likely 26 is middle-aged or older for half-foots. although since we already find out that he's already a father of three grown adults, nobody would argue against this.

the most controversial topic regarding this whole subject seems to be marcille. was she a child when she was in magic school? was she an adult? surely because she's more of an elf than a human she's actually still a child at the age of 50! especially when an elf's age of maturity is at 80 years old!

we don't really see a lot of children getting their own roles in dungeon meshi universe, but what little we see in canon paints a picture of how children are treated there. let's focus on the orcs

orc is considered an adult at 14, Leed is 14 and she leads her own hunts. and despite their pride as a warrior race, just like every other community they don't make their young hunt for their own food.

so what we got from here is that despite only reaching adulthood recently, Zon considers his sister competent enough to be in charge.

if we use that as a metric of adulthood, then Marcille who was a teaching assistant at the magic school, has reached adulthood for quite a while now. especially when her main job involved researching illnesses, a responsibility you wouldn't hand over to a child

don't forget that a lot of those who came from long-lived races are biased against short-lived ones and dismissing their metric of adulthood

southern continent where the magic school is situated is mostly populated by gnomes and dwarves, so clearly even to them marcille is already considered an adult

even in the real world the concept of adulthood changes depending on the eras and the culture. there were times in history when it was common for 14 years old children to shoulder the responsibility of a working adult in 21st century, and that includes marriage. in japan the legal age used to be 20, and only recently changed to 18 during 2016. but that's not their age of consent either, that's their legal age for being eligible to vote

maybe centuries later when comfort and leisure become much more common in the dungeon meshi universe people will balk at the idea of a 14 years old orc being considered a full-pledged adult, but as of the standard of the year 514, marcille is an adult, and her role in society proves that

[placeholder-mcd]

(Obligatory "I sound like I'm speaking objectively from authority but this is just my opinion and it's okay for you to like media I dislike for whatever reasons you may have")

Okay so like. while "the minecraft move trailer is so bad that it makes minecraft story mode look good in comparison" is both true and funny, can we please not start pretending that story mode is a well-crafted piece of media. as someone who has played through it multiple times (first when it originally came out and I was 12 and thought it was awesome, then later as an interactive Netflix experience with friends for so-bad-it's-good reasons) I feel pretty qualified to say it blows

Like, yes. There are so many things that MCSM got right that the movie apparently got wrong. But, like, they're all extremely common-sense things to get right -- like having the whole thing be animated, and maintaining a visual style that feels consistent with minecraft, and spending time with individual aspects of the minecraft experience that have their own communities (like redstone contraptions). that sense seems a little less common now that the movie trailer exists, but still, these are all bare minimum expectations of a piece of narrative-driven media set in Minecraft.

MCSM still completely fails, however, to have any compelling characters (RIP Reuben you were just as annoying as everyone else) or non-grating dialogue. The universe they depict isn't even well thought out! Like, okay, example:

Right off the bat, they make a big decision about how they're going to handle MCSM: they are not telling a story about people playing Minecraft the video game, but are instead depicting a universe where Minecraft is inhabited by a civilization of NPCs that have identical abilities to a player (aside from like, pausing the game or changing settings or what have you). This, in itself, is not a bad decision, but it puts the writers in a position where they need to conceptualize what is effectively a Minecraft AU. You're not playing survival mode or creative mode, you're playing Story mode. In this AU, humans exist in the minecraft world and have for a long time (centuries, at least?), they've built cities, they have language, etc. Imagine you're Jesse. Imagine you've grown up inside of Minecraft. Everyone is playing on hardcore, there is no respawning, and you live in a world filled with strange and dangerous creatures that seem hell-bent on killing you. Why the Fuck does anyone go out at night. Why isn't literally everyone combat-trained. Why is Jesse acting like he's never seen a Creeper before. Why is Petra the only member of the main party who knows how to craft a pickaxe.

At the build competition, the party is surprised that the reigning building team has a beacon. But nobody takes a second to actually investigate what that means. Did their team intentionally spawn and defeat a Wither? Doesn't that make them more badass and legendary than the order of the stone? Is there a black market for nether stars? (I think Petra is probably the one who gave them the beacon since she also trades Ivan a Wither skull. But like. Why isn't literally anyone else just going and doing what Petra does. Why aren't they impressed)

Ivan having access to a Command Block is also insane. Like, it has potential to be an extremely cool choice -- did Ivan find a way to break the fourth wall? Did he find an exploit in Minecrafts code that allowed him to obtain this? The command block has the power to just generate resources out of thin air. Ivan could actually use it to become a god and give himself creative mode. But okay, we can assume that the command block is just... Different, in the AU. Fine. It's a computing center / power core for the Wither Storm. Sure

But, like. I, even as an 11 year old, knew everything there was to know about minecraft when I played story mode (and, unlike the Movie, MCSM was actually attempting to appeal to the existing fanbase), so watching these characters who have lived for DECADES within the Minecraft universe just. Be helpless and completely clueless as to how the universe works? It makes me hate like all of them. I don't care about Jesse or Gabriel and if I actually had the freedom to perform the basic actions I could perform in Minecraft -- mining, building, and crafting -- I could use my game knowledge to pretty swiftly end the entire conflict at like any point in the story. And I'm not very good at video games. But I would expect a character who's been LIVING IN THE MINECRAFT WORLD TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT. BECAUSE THEY'D BE BETTER AT MINECRAFT THAN ANY OF US.

The whole thing is a contrived and buggy mess that feels like it was written by a Hollywood CEO who watched someone play the game for 30 minutes, looked up some basic information like how to beat the game and whether there's any in-game lore, and then riffed on that until a script outline was finished. The programmers, visual artists, and composers clearly did a ton of work to make MCSM feel like minecraft. And they did a good job -- clearly, a much better job than the Movie is going to do. But that doesn't change the fact that the Story -- the focal element advertised in the title -- completely misses the fucking mark and centers around a group of characters who are largely incompetent and stupid in an unfunny and uninteresting way. MCSM was a shitty cashgrab by telltale games and I am not apologizing to it.

[feyreshumanheart]

Feyre's Power and Versatility

I feel like Feyre's skill set, power, and versatility is so creatively done in the series.

I saw some people say that Feyre didn't fight a lot or show her powers or abilities much in the series, and I never got that impression when reading. I was blown away at how many skills she shows, powers and abilities and the unique combinations of them.

So I went through a looked at examples of skills/abilities and how they're used creatively-

Archery

The obvious first one, but beyond her backstory and the first chapters of acotar, it comes up even after she turns fae; like in acowar, killing a couple of the naga hounds as they escape from Hybern's camp:

It's not a forgotten skill even if Feyre has so many other abilities to utilize later that it comes up less often.

Hunting

Feyre the huntress is basically the origin of her character and a defining skill; you can see it in her trapping and killing the Middengard Wyrm as a human, but it also comes up when she saves Rhys from the Hybern soldiers in acomaf:

The Hybern scouts even attempted to conceal where they'd taken Rhys by using his shirt to carry his scent and splitting up into two groups, and Feyre is still able to figure out which group to track.

She doesn't just understand snares/traps, she understands animal habits, tracking, and applies that knowledge to kill the Wyrm in impossible odds and save Rhys in acomaf.

Hand-to-Hand Combat

Feyre is a skilled combatant, even without relying on magic:

She even does this while also incorporating (and keeping up with a thousand year old Hybern Commander utilizing the same) winnowing into her fight here.

(To say nothing of how she's poisoned and weakened during this and adapts her fighting to end it quicker, get Lucien free, to finish before the poison can fully take hold).

It's so impressive that Lucien (who's centuries old) and Brannagh (who is a thousand) are visibly shocked. Lucien even comments on it later.

Winnowing

Winnowing is "a rare gift" that "only the stronger Fae can do"; only a few of the Inner Circle are shown to be able to do it. Thousand year old Hybern royalty like Brannagh can't do it.

But Feyre is able to. She even is shown to winnow with others (saving Rhys in acomaf and taking on another sentry in early acowar).

And it's implied she'll get better with time since it's established training is important (not just power) to go further distances and carry others and that what Feyre needs is more time and training to go farther:

"[Winnowing is] wholly dependent on your own reserve of power—and training" - Rhys explaining winnowing to Feyre in acomaf

I still had not yet mastered doing it over long distances. At least, not with many stops in between. -Feyre, end of acomaf

Strength/Speed

Feyre is noted to be unusually (physically) strong and fast for a High Fae, which is one of the first signs of a High Lord's Heir.

Her strength is shown in the Weaver's Cottage when she loosens and throws bricks at her and in her inability to keep from destroying doors and silverware and whatnot on accident after being turned, literally not knowing her own strength.

Shielding

Her mental shielding is so good, she successfully keeps Rhys out; she's also able to physically shield against High Lord powered attacks (like Tamlin in acomaf and Beron in acowar):

She also shields Lucien and Tamlin's minds and protects them from daemati attacks without them even realizing in early acowar.

Daemati

Daemati are even rarer than fae who can winnow, and her burgeoning abilities were so strong, she slipped into Lucien's mind without meaning to multiple times.

She was also able to influence a High Lord (Tarquin) and infiltrate Ianthe's mind so deeply it took days for the King of Hybern to unravel.

We also see her power to sense minds, cast of "net of awareness" and see if any fae are hiding or nearby.

Curse-Breaking/Spell-Cleaving/Ward Breaking

Feyre can cleave even difficult and powerful wards/spells. Even the King of Hybern is impressed-

She cleaves his wards/breaks his spells multiple times and also breaks a High Lord's:

Moreover, she's able to almost trick spells:

She also can detect spells as part of her abilities:

Shapeshifting

She uses her shapeshifting abilities to enhance her body in combat (i.e., eyes that can see in the darkness, talons to fight with, and wings to fly with). She's also able to use it to impersonate others, like infiltrating Hybern's camp as "Ianthe".

Beyond that, Azriel notes that her attention to detail as an artist allowed her to create detailed, accurate wings, highlighting the intersection for how she views the world as an artist with her powers:

Elemental/Misc. HL Powers

Beyond the others above, she also inherits a variety of often elemental type of powers specific to different courts that she uses in varied, creative way- a few examples:

Night (shadows): uses the shadows to blind the Hybern soldiers in the halls of the Adriata palace and use the cover of darkness to winnow repeatedly and kill them (while using the shapeshifted eyes so she has night vision)

Day (light): blinds Eris on the ice in acowar to get away

Day (wind): uses the wind to create shields and block weapons like arrows

Dawn (healing): mostly seen speeding up healing herself but we've seen it save Rhys's life when he's poisoned

Winter (ice): after drenching the flying Hybern soldiers with water in the attack on Velaris, she uses the ice to freeze them and bring them to the ground to shatter; she also uses the ice to negate Eris's fire cuffs in acowar

Summer (water): the water wolves speak for themselves- but just creating water animals as weapons that can charge and fly in general; she also drowns a Hybern soldier on land in the Adriata palace

Autumn (fire): she uses lashes of fire to behead Hybern soldiers in Adriata and even set an entire clearing ablaze in acomaf (before using other powers to smother it)

You can see in many cases, she plays off the complementary powers (using water to soak flying soldiers only to use ice to freeze them; using shadows to blind Hybern soldiers while using her shapeshifting to give herself night vision and winnow in bursts to take out the soldiers).

This gives her abilities and powers that are unique from the individual High Lords.

Glamouring

She uses the shapeshifting magic to conjure a glamour of their entire army. This is a glamour that a high lord (Tarquin) was skeptical could be done. The NC army is significantly bigger than the Summer army, too.

She also uses glamouring when she hides Bryaxis and the Bone Carver before the battle with Hybern, with no one on either side aware.

Wielding the Cauldron

Feyre possesses an ability to use the Cauldron that's incredibly rare. It's shown that part of it is due to being Made, but also Feyre's own ability to control herself/her mind and withstand its power.

She is the one able to be a conduit and reforge it, even without the Book of Breathings, in a cool moment that purposefully references The Mother and "the story of Prythian":

Her power also goes in to remake the Cauldron with Rhys's:

Her ability to do this (use the Cauldron as a conduit to unleash Amren and reforge it) is the only reason they win the war, that any of Prythian's forces live.

She also can sense it and track it:

The King of Hybern even notes that the Cauldron "purrs" in her presence.

General Power

The acotar books aren't great with power scaling imo; having said that, Feyre's considerable power is discussed and acknowledged multiple times.

Her use of magic in the Court of Nightmares when people try to test "whatever power she might have" causes people to faint, tremble, whimper, and flee even:

In the High Lord meeting it's especially apparent.

I think some misunderstand that though Helion establishes that what it feels like for the High Lords is that they're missing an inconsequential bit of their power (to the point that only he is shown to have noticed it), he also says in the same breath, that the power Feyre just displayed makes him say "no wonder" she was made High Lady, establishing it as HL level in his eyes:

I think it plays into how Feyre is repeatedly asked "what are you?" by people like the Weaver or established as "like and unlike all".

Because despite all the HLs acknowledging Feyre was given just a drop/they aren't missing much, it's also acknowledged that she could've killed the oldest High Lord (Beron) and her display seems like "far more" than what was given:

It's not that 7 drops of power from the High Lord's adds up to much and took anything noticeable from them individually, it's that the combination created something unexpected, "outside anything" recognizable and with a "behemoth" of power.

Feyre being Made this way literally became something more than the sum of her parts- and that's only emphasized with how she combines her powers and abilities to make something new.

Seven Courts/Connection to Prythian/Made

Feyre notes that her unusual powers respond differently, to the High Lord and their court/land. This comes up when she's tracking items, when she's getting past their wards, and even from the land itself.

Like her other abilities, she combines her connection to the HLs to other gifts- like using her shapeshifting to physically become Tarquin and then her connection to him to be perceived as him by spells.

Another interesting thing is that Feyre's power responds to both the High Lord's power (it "writhed" in response at the start of the battle against Hybern when they use theirs) and the land of their courts. She notes that her affinity to use certain court powers responds and is strengthened when she's there:

In the Middle, there's even a moment where Feyre feels the very land of Prythian accommodating her:

Which connects well to how she reforges the Cauldron with a purposeful reference to "the story of Prythian" (when the Mother held the Cauldron- notably depicted in a "starry, endless night") and the start of all life.

The whole "child of seven courts" with powers that respond to the land is fascinating as the power in Prythian is so tied to the land and that moment that she parallels.

-

I liked how Feyre's skills and powers are shown because readers really get to see it and not just hear "she's powerful" or "she's a huntress".

You see her apply training (so much emphasis on power training with Rhys and combat with Cassian and flying with Azriel for instance and all get payoff) and experiences (her years hunting shows up in all three books and makes moments like killing the Wyrm and finding Rhys after he's taken feel more earned) rather than just suddenly have "power".

You get to see how she applies her powers, how she combines her skill set, rather than just a generic blast of power that demonstrates "power" but no skill or strategy. And that creates abilities that are new and unique.

Anyway, this was fun to do- Feyre's a badass whose versatility lets her build upon the individual powers she has and her powers and skill set are used very creatively in the series.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Undertale cast react to their S/O getting struck by lightning… and just walking it off.

(Bonus points if the lightning is completely out of the blue and/or hits them multiple times in succession)

Undertale Sans - He runs to you, in shock, but you're actually more than fine? What? You can see his scientific mind working at 300% right now to try to explain what he just witnessed. Because he's pretty sure you should have at least burned alive. How are you fine??? No, but please, tell him! He won't stop asking you until you give him an answer.

Undertale Papyrus - He gasps loudly, then calms down when he sees you're actually perfectly fine. ??????? He's pretty sure that's not how it works but he doesn't know everything so maybe that's just perfectly normal? Perhaps it explodes only big trees like the one in his garden but not humans? He's a bit confused, but glad you're fine.

Undertale Toriel - Her soul leaves her body honestly. She runs to you, screaming to not move, and immediately starts to heal you, even though you're perfectly fine, and tries to tell her. Except she doesn't believe you. You put your ass on the floor and you stop moving this instant. You're not moving before she allows you to!

Undertale Asgore - Uh. That's all that escapes from his throat. He got a little spooked by that and swears he saw you get hit by lightning at least three times. But surely, he was hallucinating because it would mean you being very dead, and obviously you're not. Maybe he should see someone to talk about this. He's an old man, who knows if he's not seeing things.

Undertale Undyne - That was AWESOME. Do it again! She's cheering you! She wants you to get hit by lightning again! Do her next! She wants to be struck by lightning too!

Undertale Alphys - She got a soul attack, both because of the noise and you just getting struck in the face by lightning. She's a bit in shock when she sees you walking out of this somehow still alive and not cut in half. Uh. She should have recorded that. Maybe Sans knows why you're alive? She so needs to gossip with him right now. She wants to nerd for hours about this.

Undertale Frisk - That was awesome and super cool! They got struck by lightning once and they almost died right in front of Toriel, how can you even survive that? They want to know! Share your cool secrets, definitely, not so they can do it again!

Undertale Chara - They look up their phone to make sure you're still alive, and since you seem find, they walk over your body and continue with their day. They're not impressed.

Undertale Mettaton - He is impressed, even though it's probably his fault you got struck with lightning honestly. Maybe going out during a storm when you're full metal was not his brightest idea. He takes two steps and the lightning struck him too lol. That's going to be a long walk back home...

Undertale Gaster - It hurts, right? He understands. The last time he got electrocuted, his whole body literally flew into the lava of the CORE. He can understand your pain. Even though lava hurts more if he has to make a classification. Uh. That's not the info you wanted to learn today.

Undertale Grillby - He ran to you to help but he got badly spooked and, uh, his flames are really burning right now. Good news is, you don't get burned by lightning! Bad news is you get burned anyway by Grillby lol. He won't stop apologizing to you for the next three centuries he thinks.

Undertale Muffet - Well, you were used as a spider car for a lot of her baby spiders, and let just say she's not too happy about the thousands of little spiders that got killed first with the lightning and then with you falling on your back, crushing hundreds more under your weight. She's counting the casualties, looking pissed off. I hope you have money. Because the workforce is expensive. You wish you weren't fine after all.

Undertale Burgerpants - He got so scared he puffed up. His fur is all dishevelled and all his claws are out. Please don't do that again. You almost gave him a soul attack for Asgore's sake. Now everyone will mock him all day long because he looks like a spiky pillow. He's mad at you, even though he's glad you're fine. But still!

Undertale Flowey - Well. Unlike you, Flowey is really not ok right now. He was in your arms when he got struck by lightning and let just say he felt this a lot more than you did. He's lucky he doesn't have a soul because he swears it would have dusted again. Flowey is mad at you and refuses to talk to you for an entire month after this, mainly because he lost all of his petals in the battle and had to go in cure with Asgore for two months to grew them back. He hates you, never talk to him again.

Undertale Gerson - He shrugs and gently pats your shoulder. "Better you than me, kid. Better luck next time. Ya won't have my life insurance so soon." You're confused but walk away. Wait, does Gerson even have life insurance? You're curious now!

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Okay, either the scientist knew she was preggo or they just thought she was going through hormonal changes or whatever, there is NO WAY CROWLEY DOESNT KNOW THE HUMAN IS PREGGO.

Also, how much should I bet that Cater is just going to keep the whole world updated with every single DETAIL.

Oh, Lilia is going to have a FIELD DAY WHEN THE BABY IS BORN, same for Trein, he’s probably going to love it.

Referring to this fic snippet here:

Okay, to be fair, I forgot to mention that the events take place shortly after Yuu's arrival. Probably between chapter 2 and 3 given the timeline we have, which puts it at about...two, three weeks after the prologue and shortly after Riddle and Leona overblot.

As for the scientists/researchers, while logically speaking they would immediately jump at the chance to come to the island to start their studies, they first had to make sure these pictures circulating on Cater’s Magicam posts were legit first. Once it is established through a video or two that was posted, that's when they reach out to Crowley to make the arrangements!

And they actually arrive a week after the pregnancy announcement, so you can bet that they are very eager to get some studying done as quick as possible! 😂

As for the staff not realizing that fem!Yuu is pregnant, they are aware of what a pregnant monster's scent is like for sure. But because there hadn't been a human in centuries, even if Crowley was old enough to have been around humans, it's not like he remembers the scent off the top of his head! The staff would all essentially be like those confused cats and dogs trying to figure out what this strange bump is and why their human smells funny before instinctively feeling protective.

Can you just imagine Crowley building a nest for Yuu without realizing just *why* he was doing it in the first place? Or the blank stare he'd give the moment someone asked him like, "...why am I doing this??" and it only becomes clear shortly after the announcement, in which he tries to pretend he knew all along 😂

I'm also reminded of this one post where OP's cat had had multiple litters in the past and was so excited when OP got pregnant that the kitty kept trying to show her to the nest she made for OP's "kitten", and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever read 🥹

Anyway, you can bet your bottom madol that Cater will absolutely be keeping EVERYONE updated on Magicam throughout the whole process, and he is getting flooded with baby picture requests 🤣 It's also sweet how mothers come across the posts and try to offer advice that they'd learned on raising their kids, which is nice, though not all of the advice would really be practical based on species 😅 But at least they're sweet enough to offer that and words of encouragement! I can even see some inviting Yuu to a mother's support group meeting ;;v;;

You can also bet that Yuu will be receiving a lot of baby shower gifts and such from Cater’s followers. At least they don't have to worry about needing to buy diapers for a while! 🤣

Ooooooh yes, Lilia is going to be ecstatic to be able to hold and care for a baby again! He will offer to help watch over the little one (hadn't decided on a gender or name yet for the new baby) so Yuu can take a break, though don't worry about him trying to feed the baby his cooking. He learned and knows that milk is important for the baby, so he makes sure to have the bottles readily available even at Diasomnia~ (though Silver and the others make sure to keep an eye on him when it comes to feeding time just to be on the safe side)

Trein has already raised two daughters, and while he may not be interested in raising another, that's not to say he won't wind up spoiling the little human baby like any grandparent would! He'll also offer a shoulder for fem!Yuu to lean on and reassure her that she's doing a great job as a mother ;;v;;

[acourtofthought]

This is the new argument from e/riels:

"Yes Lucien was feisty and powerful and sassy and funny in the first book, and that personality slowly started to fade in book 2. This happened because Lucien was originally supposed to be Nesta's mate, but then SJM changed her mind. Lucien slowly became a shadow of his old self to the point where he barely exists in the story. Yes it can partially be attributed to trauma, but he had lived through immense trauma already at the start of book one and still managed to be his foxy, witty self. This is because he will not be a lead in Elain's book or any book. SJM is purposefully downgrading him because he is not meant to fill the role of MMC. She realized that Azriel and Elain have much more chemistry, hence the famous statement about how sometimes she puts two characters together and they just won't work. She left readers a hint about the fact that she was doing this: 'Why make them mates? What if that is what she needs?' using Feyre's words."

What are your thoughts on this?

My thoughts? There will be many 😂

Feyre also said Az would probably never stop loving Mor.

Feyre also told Elain that Lucien cared for her and that he was a good male.

Feyre also once considered Ianthe a friend.

I don't think Feyre's word is one they want to get hung up on.

Lucien did experience trauma in book 1 however the majority of that trauma, the things that impacted him on a bone deep level, happened to him centuries prior. Lucien's main source of trauma in book 1 (to me) was not when Amarantha permanently scarred him but when he lost Jesminda and was chased out of Autumn after having spent years being tormented by Beron and his brothers. But he found some semblance of peace with Tamlin. Was he truly content? Not really but he had a friend, a place in Tamlin's court, the people of Spring looked to him to set the example (friends and purpose, sounds familiar, right?). Despite his past he had still had enough time to settle into his sassiness because his life was somewhat consistent.

However book 2 changed all that. Tamlin and his court began to suffer as a result of what happened during and after UTM. There was the added fear of what Rhys was possibly doing to Feyre and how that affected both he and Tamlin. The stability (illusion of?) he had grown accustomed too (even during Amarantha's reign), began to crumble and the threat of a war was pressing down on them all.

Should Lucien have remained sassy while worrying his friend and his other friends fiance was being tortured? Should he have been feisty knowing they were preparing to ally with the KoH in order to try and get her back? While his friend had taken to threatening him? While his friend was falling apart? While being sexually harassed by Ianthe than having to perform the Rite with her? It's funny how they claim Gwyn won't be ready to leave the library in her book or for sex with Az years after her SA but expect Lucien to be an absolute hoot while his was going on.

Should he then have been sassy knowing that Feyre was plotting the downfall of Tamlin in book 3? After finding out that his lost mate wasn't actually his mate and that his real mate had been taken by his enemy? Should he have been cracking jokes after his magic was stolen and he nearly died trying to fight his way to Elain's side to make sure she was alright? Should he have then been the life of the party while surrounded by multiple characters treating him like dirt in the NC?

Should he be witty and fun and snarky upon the realization that he had no place to go except the human lands after the war? When Tamlin gave him a black eye and cut lip?

SJM isn't putting Lucien through all of this so Az can lead a book with Elain. SJM is putting Lucien through all this so he becomes the ultimate underdog story. In an interview, someone specifically asked SJM if we were going to see the return of sassy Lucien and she said something along the lines of, "I hope so, he's going through a lot right now." The author knows exactly what she's doing with his character and it's not because he's being downgraded. Downgraded men don't get an upgrade to their father and Court they belong to. Downgraded men don't have the author confirming (after ACOMAF had already been written, the book she made Elain and Lucien mates) that Lucien has always been one of her favorite characters. Downgraded men don't school Cassian in his own book with a single word.

"Easy," Lucien said.

Cassian snarled.

"Easy," Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising DOMINANCE within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten -

If the author wanted us to believe that Elain and Lucien have no chemistry than she would not have had any reason to have Elain ignore him. Instead they would have shared many conversations on page and we would have seen that lack of chemistry playing out in real time. Instead she had Elain cut off communication with Lucien the second she no longer mourned for Graysen to the extent she once did. That's because a single Elain is an Elain that's going to fall in love with Lucien way too quickly, an Elain who shares very obvious chemistry with him and that can't happen before their book.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Environmental Generational Amnesia: When We Forget Nature’s Past

Originally posted at my blog at https://rebeccalexa.com/environmental-generational-amnesia/

One of the most traumatic and formative experiences of my life occurred when I was thirteen years old. The woods that I loved exploring behind our yard were completely bulldozed one day; I discovered this when I got off the bus from school. It was part of the destruction of an entire wild area that would become yet another subdivision devoid of trees and vines and wildflowers, with no place left for bobwhite quail or garter snakes in the flat green lawns. I was devastated, and in an attempt to try to help me my mom chatted with the developer when she happened to run into her in town. “She knows how you feel,” my mom said. “Her woods were the ones that were torn down to make the junior high track.” Not only did it just not make sense to me that someone who had been through what I was experiencing would then go on to do the same horrible acts, but it was also my first introduction to the reality of environmental generational amnesia.

The term was coined a few years ago in a paper by Peter Kahn and Thea Weiss. It refers to how each generation considers how it first experienced a place as its true baseline, and any change that comes after it is abnormal or unnatural. So for me, the track at my junior high with just a line of trees along the creek was my understanding of its baseline, but the developer remembered that land as acres of woods. A hundred years ago it may have been a farm. Go back several generations to when only the Osage lived here, and it was probably undamaged oak savanna, or perhaps a tallgrass prairie.

When you multiply that shifting understanding of the “normal” state of a place by all the people in a given area, something is bound to be lost as generations die off, and new ones are born into the present state. Couple that with a serious lack of nature literacy, and you have fewer people discussing what the place is versus what it once was.

In cases where almost all the land has been significantly changed by human activity for centuries, it can be incredibly challenging to piece together what it was like before we came through and wrought such imbalances. The only evidence may remain in a few remote undamaged patches, scraps of partial plant and animal communities, and oral and written information passed down by people, whether indigenous or colonizing. Sometimes ecologists and other scientists need to look at the ecosystems of neighboring areas to get some idea of what might have been here before. It’s often a matter of trying to piece together an incomplete puzzle, giving best educated guesses as to what filled the empty niches.

If you have a population that has a dim memory at best of what a place looked like before it was changed at all, they’re less likely to understand when there’s a problem. I knew, for example, that it was wrong to tear down the woods behind my home, but my baseline was “mix of trees and shrubs of various species surrounding a creek with a limestone bed next to a twenty year old subdivision.” No one could tell me what that farm looked like before it became a farm, and I didn’t understand at the time that the mix of plants and animals I knew and loved were neither the complete original assortment, nor were they all native. How was I to know that my yard was once spacious grassland, dotted with white oak here and there? How should I have come to understand that the woods I had cherished were badly out of ecological balance compared to what had once been, that they were exhibiting signs of recolonization after multiple massive disturbances before I was even born?

And this is just one example of one person’s understanding of one place. This environmental generational amnesia has rippling effects worldwide, with people not understanding that the rivers nearby aren’t supposed to be as stick-straight as they are, that the coastline should be covered in wetlands rather than open sand, that the dense forest is only there because natural fires were suppressed and allowed the trees to take over the last meadows. There are even those who have no idea that their air, water, and soil aren’t supposed to be loaded with pollutants, because pollution is all they’ve known for generations. It’s tough to imagine an extinct wetland when you can’t even see the water for the trash, and the sky is brown instead of blue.

It’s not going to be an easy task to try to revive the collective memory of Lands That Were. A good starting point is to talk to our elders, both alive and dead. When we ask those who still live what they remember of a place, we can glean important details even if they themselves weren’t ecologists, or formal scientists of any other sort. If we can take them to these places and have them show us where important landmarks were and describe what has changed, we can start to see more clearly what’s been lost. And when we read the writings and view the landscape art of those who are long passed, we get important snapshots of what was there long before any of us today were alive, tracing that ecological story closer to its origin.

We also need, more than ever, to preserve what ancient ecosystems still remain, whether that’s old growth forests, or prairies that never knew the tearing of the plow, or wetlands never drained or polluted. We can’t just miraculously replace them in a matter of a few years, and they offer us crucial pictures of the end goal in places where  we are attempting long-term habitat restoration. They are living, breathing records of what places looked like before, of the biodiversity and other natural structures that were in place for thousands of years.

Finally, we need to be talking openly about the disconnect between what is and what was. If I, as an incredibly nature-obsessed kid, was startled to think about how my “normal” was only a faint shadow of past ecological glory, then imagine how jarring it must be for someone who is further removed from nature to understand that the forest they walk through is really supposed to be a prairie. (Especially after many years of being told that “planting trees” is the answer to all the ecological problems we face!)

With time and education we can bring about awareness, and that awareness will help us make better decisions for the future. There are so many people who want to undo ecological destruction and make the world a better place; we just need to have better, more accurate information out there on what can be reasonably done. Much of that hinges on having a clearer idea of what’s been lost, so that we can make plans to save whatever is left, and restore as much as we can.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[semisolidmind]

What if after Peaches has her 8 kids she gets killed by the celestial realm or something, and there's nothing the Sun family can do but wait for their mother/wife to be reincarnated, which leads to the whole 'Monkey King meeting his Peaches again after hundreds of years due to MK' situation? How would that situation change with the babies being around, desperate to see their mama?

Sorry for the multiple asks! Feel free to ignore them if it's too much or uninteresting.

oh man. that'd be an awkward family reunion, considering she won't remember any of them.

also the destruction wukong would cause to the celestial realm after they murk his wife? astronomical. and his first three kids are old enough by then to join in, and they do so eagerly.

so to start, the sun kids are all basically grown by the time wukong finds mk, with seventh and eighth being around ten years old in demon age. the siblings more or less welcome the new addition with open arms, though some more than others.

mk grows up surrounded by siblings, and oddly enough, is better adjusted socially because of it? while the influence of some of them may be questionable (cough second third fifth cough), for the most part his family is his safe place. he'd probably be a smidgen less dependent on his friends because of it. he's also less defensive and scared than the version of him without siblings.

however, the subject of their mama is one that mk is woefully left out of. he never got to meet the original reader, and his siblings (except hua and chāo, who were a bit too small to remember her clearly) don't talk about her much. mk has gotten jūn and zíhào to talk about her a little bit, but da xia just gets defensive and refuses to entertain the subject. xīnyi also deflects whenever reader comes up. the only ones willing to give mk any sort of backstory are jiāo hui and xuě fēng. those two, along with hua and chāo, are his closest friends.

in the case of mk going to the human world, i imagine wukong being slightly less reluctant to let mk go, if only because he knows that jūn, jiao hui, and xuě fēng hang around the city as well, so mk would have support. wukong would still make mandatory home visits though, since he knows his kids might not be telling him the whole truth when they report on their baby brother.

as for the event of meeting reader; wukong almost cries, seeing her again. his first interaction with her new incarnation is...softer, more subdued. reader feels a little bad for him. he seems so withdrawn, he must miss his son. she's less suspicious of him because of his attitude.

wukong doesn't know what to tell his children. their mother is reborn, but she isn't their mother anymore. she won't know any of them. he doesn't want to put them through the pain of seeing her if she can't greet each of them knowing who they are.

however.

there might be a way to reawaken his wife and mother of his children. she still exists in the soul inhabiting this new body, he just needs to bring her back to the forefront of their consciousness. he'll tear apart heaven and earth looking for a way.

cue angst and fear, and a fun time for mk trying to keep reader a secret from his more volatile siblings. zíhào, da xia, and xīnyi would likely just kidnap reader for their father if they knew, thinking, similarly to him, that they can bring back the spirit of their mother.

also, macaque has been freed by now (it may or may not have been jūn and xuě fēng who removed the seal on his mountain), and is close friends with reader. in this case, jūn warns macaque of his father's plan to try and bring back the previous reader, so he has more time to plan on how he's gonna save her.

macaque has missed the smile on reader's face, her jokes, her sass...she's much like she was when they were on the journey together. he doesn't want her new, free incarnation to have to live as a prisoner to the monkey king's sick idea of love.

he failed her all those centuries ago. he won't fail her again.

....

(also, the reason none of the other kids can weild a magic staff, but mk can; half humanity. at least that's what wukong figures it is. his kids are all almost as strong as him, so that can't be why they can't lift it. must be magical bullshit, he thinks.)

[quitealotofsodapop]

The crew listens to Epic: the Musical.

MK's favorite song is Legendary.

Wukong identifies with Just a Man (not that he'll admit it).

Macaque likes Ruthlessness because he's an emo little stinker.

Sandy likes Open Arms (of course).

Tang and Red Son like Warrior of the Mind.

Pigsy really thinks the monkeys should take Luck Runs Out to heart.

Mei likes Keep Your friends close (a fun bop that belies danger underneath, just like her).

I have to be careful binging a new muscial (or in this case Saga) cus I end up playing each song on loop for hours. Opinions might change once the full and finished versions of later sagas are released.

I love all these hcs <3

Im imagining the gang likely sees/listens to Epic on the reccomendation of MK (who's currently on a Greek Mythology hyperfixation), and he gets them all to watch the full play - maybe in the future as a irl performance or film.

"Legendary" is SUCH an MK song. Both him and Telemachus growing up with the stories of someone dear to them and wanting to replicate their success. I could also see him really liking "Warrior of the Mind" with the theme of "some nobody" gaining the favor of a god (reminds you of anyone?) + SWK is infamously the personification of The Mind in Jttw so its a bonus. MK is smiling evily whenever a harsh plot twist occurs and his fam are shocked silent. >:3

Sun Wukong feels targeted personally with how many of the Epic songs remind him of his past. Ofc he starts crying halfway through "Horse and the Infant", and is inconsolable during "Just A Man" - verbally yelling "NO!" at the end. And like Nezha and Sandy is *silent* during Posideon's songs. Is super jazzed during the triumphant Ithaca Saga though! And feels mega catharic during "King" when Odysseus proves that he still rules to the suitors! He tries his best to hide how much the muscial is affecting him.

Macaque is a canon theatre Nerd - so he's already listened to the musical multiple times, but he's uber excited to see the live performance (and secretly bond with his found fam). Is rocking out during "Ruthlessness" and "Done For" in particular, so much so that he's fidgeting and dancing within his seat. He also vibes with "No Longer You" as someone with powers of prophecy. Is really amazed how much Wukong gets into the musical, but in retrospect understands *why*. Him and Wukong accidentally share a glance during "Would You Fall In Love With Me Again" and it gets a little awkward afterwards.

Mei is similarly excited to see anything with her bestie, so she tried her best not hear/see any spoilers ("it's a centuries' old story Mei" "Ssssh!! Dont tell me!"). She was shooketh by how hard the muscial goes. "Keep Your Friends Close" is her fave based on beat alone. She gets delightedly scared and amazed by consistent horse imagery used with Posideon (shameless link to my fave Animatic of "Ruthlessness").

Tang loves himself some historical and mythological adaptations, and is estatic that MK has given him an excuse to go see one! He's not as familar with Hellenic mytholgy as he is with Hindu-Chinese, but he knows enough lore to make the pog-champ face at every foreshadowing/reference. "Warrior of the Mind" really gets to him as a song about valuing your smarts. He also feels really empathetic for Calypso.

Pigsy only went cus Tang begged him. He feels super lost by the deep Greek lore he's missing, but he can get Odysseus's whole thing with trying to get home - but he def identifies more with Eurylochus. "Luck Runs Out" proves this to him. Later on he feels that the second-in-command was justified in having the soldiers rebel against Odysseus after so many losses (who wouldn't after losing all their friends?). Audibly gasps at the end of "Just A Man" - cus who would just do that!? Is a little freaked out by Circe turning the Athenian's into pigs - Eurylochus is depicted as partly-transformed, played by a pig-demon actor who was in super convincing human makeup in the previous sagas. He also gets protective feelings by-proxy seeing Telemachus's situation since the prince reminds him of MK. Is surprised by how much he likes the musical!

Sandy feels betrayed. This isn't like Disney Hercules at all! He does really enjoy Polites message in "Open Arms" and the later moments when the hopeful soldier's outlook is proven correct. He's a little overwhelmed at points though - he get eerily quiet during Posideon's scenes. He sobs joyfully when Odysseus finally makes it home and reunites with his family! :')

Because of this really good animatic/almost child-like depiction of Aelous by gigi; I can def see "Keep Your Friends Close" being Nezha's fave. It reminds Nezha of when he was far more carefree + has a solid lesson on about trust/"forbidden fruit". He also enjoys the more march-like tune of "Survive". He does however, freeze when he listens to Posideon's songs "Ruthlessness" and "Get in the Water" - he has been on the bad end of a sea god before and is quietly shtting himself for Odysseus.

Red Son goes in feeling like he could have stayed at home listening to the musical on his phone while working on a car instead. He is however blown away by the heavy themes and performances, especially "Warrior of the Mind" and Telemachus's situation - a prince forced to grow up fatherless and protecting his mother from suitors due to his dad pissing off a higher power? Hello?? Accidentally shrieks "YES!!!" when Athena becomes Telemachus's mentor/friend after "Little Wolf".

Princess Iron Fan I could see loving any song including Penelope (she empathizes with the Queen's situation hard), but unexpectedly enjoys "Keep Your Friends Close" - she's a fellow Wind Goddess at her core. It also reminds her of her not-so-little-anymore nephew.

DBK on the flip side loves the heavier songs like "Polyphemus" and "Ruthlessness". This man is a Posedion apologist. He does feels bad for Odysseus by the end though - man just wants to get back to his wife and kid dammit!

Bonus: The Spider Gang are watching the bootleg and Spider Queen agrees with Circe's whole girlboss attitude especially "Puppeteer". Scorpion Queen is Calypso in "Not Sorry For Loving You".

This got a little away from me - hope you enjoy!

[devildom-moss]

Hello, could you write a scenario for Diavolo and a chubby f!mc who's really shy and self conscious, in which he helps her be more confident, specially in bed. Thank you and have a good day/night!

Thank you for the request. I'm sorry this took way longer than I hoped. But, it is relatively long. I got too into the plot, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I tried.

Diavolo giving chubby f!mc a confidence boost

(Diavolo x f!MC)

(NSFW) (NSFW tags: slightly sub!Diavolo, afab!MC, begging, praise, oral - receiving, multiple orgasm, face riding, overstimulation, mild foodplay why do I keep doing this to him??) (other stuff: plot heavy!, "my love" used on MC, negative body image and low self-esteem, food guilt mentions)

Word Count: +4,300

Diavolo had brought you to another fancy party. One of the nobles from out of town had invited him to a massive resort; they also provided a hotel room for each guest and their plus one – should they decide to bring someone. Diavolo was determined to whisk you away and ensure that you enjoyed your time with him. He even bought you an outfit prior to your trip. It was gorgeous (perhaps because Barbatos and Asmo had assisted him with procuring an outfit complete with accessories). Although the outfit was primarily black, there were hints of your current favorite (chromatic) color in some of the details. Diavolo had put so much thought into this.

So, you were disappointed in yourself when you changed and stared, dejected, into the mirror. Everything fit perfectly, but when you looked at yourself, it felt like maybe you didn’t fit them properly. It was too late to get another outfit, so you would have to stomach (poor wording – you didn’t really want to think about your stomach) walking into the party while feeling like this.

You let out a shaky breath and firmly placed a (figurative) mask on – this, too, fit you perfectly. So much so that Diavolo beamed cluelessly at you when you stepped out of the hotel room.

“You are stunning.” Diavolo grinned and pulled you against him by your hips. His hands were wandering lower than they should have in that hotel hallway, but Barbatos wasn’t there, and you indulged his eager hands while no one was around to see you two. It gave you a moment to stare at him in all his glory. He was so handsome, and his suit accentuated his broad chest and shoulders. You couldn’t admit it to his face, but the thought of getting him out of that suit slipped into your mind and eased some of the anxiety you were feeling.

When Diavolo finally let you out of his grasp, you told him, “You look even more stunning.”

“Impossible!” Diavolo protested. Still, he was happy you liked how he looked. He locked the door behind you and carried his grin all the way downstairs to the venue.

You noticed that Diavolo was turning heads with his presence – which wasn’t surprising. How sad and insignificant you must seem standing next to him. Eventually, he found the host of the party and greeted them. A small circle of nobles – the kind whose centuries of age came out in their mannerisms and ideology – who practically screamed “bitter old man” – surrounded you both.

One of them, who was particularly distasteful already, added to his poor first impression when he whistled at one of the incubus girls at the party. He leaned into Diavolo and said, “What a body on that one. She’s almost as sexy as Maddi. Speaking of Maddi, wasn’t she chasing after you for decades? You get attention from the most gorgeous witches and demons. What’s your secret?”

He had neglected to add humans into the category of gorgeous people Diavolo attracted. Even coming from a disgusting worm of a demon like this guy, it kind of hurt.

“I don’t know if I would say all that, but I definitely attracted a beautiful lover.” Diavolo smiled at you and held your gaze. “I don’t know how I’m this lucky.”

“Certainly.” The worm-demon waved off Diavolo’s affection for you with a single word spewed from his easy-to-mistake-for-the-ass-end-of-the-body mouth. Quite frankly, Diavolo couldn’t stand the guy, either, so he was eager to get you away from there.

Diavolo pulled you deeper into the party. You had only made it into what could be considered the foyer before you had stopped. The main course was in the following room. Well, actually, this party had skipped the main course and gone straight to dessert.

A sweet smell hit your nose seconds before you walked into the room. It wasn’t a cohesive sweetness, but a mixture of them colliding chaotically. Massive tables were lined with a variety of cakes in slices and small shapes – some more ornate than others. The waiters were wandering the room and tables, offering numerous, gorgeous-looking drinks. Beelzebub would love this – although he would ultimately ruin the party with his bottomless appetite. Asmo would be Devilgramming everything. Luke, Simeon, and Barbatos would probably enjoy this, too – although this was hardly a good environment for Luke. Still, this wasn’t what you were expecting.

“What kind of party is this?” you asked Diavolo.

“One of the executives for Madam Scream’s is celebrating a prosperous first half of the fiscal year. They’re showcasing some of the most popular flavors this year. They’re even offering a first look at next season’s new and limited-edition cake options. It was no easy feat to acquire some of the seasonal ingredients in preparation for tonight’s events. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks, but I wanted to surprise you.”

You could tell from the outpour of information that Diavolo was excited about this. After all, Madam Scream’s success owed a good deal to Diavolo’s hard work to improve the Devildom (and also Beel’s stomach). It was impossible not to stare at him affectionately as he spoke.

“I was told by the host that they’ll be offering indignation cinnamon pudding cake. Apparently, you have pudding cake in the human world. It’s pudding and a cake in one dessert. Isn’t that delightful? We have to try some.”

You nodded. He looked so happy that you couldn’t focus on anything else – not even how you looked.

Diavolo led you to a secluded table off to the corner and encouraged you to sit while he went on a mission to retrieve the cake. Luckily, the awkwardness of sitting alone in a corner in an outfit you weren’t entirely comfortable in was interrupted by a familiar, grating chuckle.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite human.”

“Mephisto – my favorite,” you paused and stood to your feet, “I didn’t think this through.”

Mephisto took your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles playfully. “I suppose you can’t call me your favorite demon while you’re dating the magnificent Lord Diavolo himself.”

“I don’t think you’d let me say that even as a joke,” you teased. Mephisto was one of those people who – once you got to know him – found a way to distract you from whatever you were worrying about. Perhaps because he wasn’t one to sit in silence for long. He always had some conversation starter tucked away in his back pocket.

“I’m a journalist. I can’t just let you lie to my face without fact-checking you.”

“So professional.” You rolled your eyes and pulled out a chair for him, leaving one empty seat for Diavolo between the two of you.

Diavolo returned, and his arms were loaded with different cakes. Mephisto’s eyes widened. “You’re going all in today, my Lord.”

“Absolutely. I’m not passing up an opportunity to try a bunch of cake with my gorgeous lover.” Diavolo placed the cakes on the table with a surprising lack of trouble before he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Have you tried any of the cake yet, Mephisto?”

“Yes, my Lord. The best so far was a Demonus cheesecake. It was coated in a chocolate Demonus glaze – absolutely divine. You could tell they weren’t using the cheap stuff, either.”

“I don’t think I grabbed that one yet. I’ll have to try it, but first,” Diavolo paused to place a forkful of the pudding cake he was so excited about in front of your face, “say ‘ah’ please, my love.”

You complied. Sweetness hit your tongue, and with it, a sharp sting of shame. It was so easy to indulge Diavolo that you were letting him feed you cake in public – right in front of Mephisto, no less. And there was so much cake there. You covered your mouth as you chewed. It felt as if multiple demon nobles were staring at you.

“How is it?” Diavolo asked.

“It’s good,” you answered unenthusiastically.

Diavolo shrugged it off as a personal preference and took a bite for himself. “Good? This is amazing! I must ask Barbatos to try to recreate this back at the castle.”

“Go ahead and eat the rest, then.”

“Are you sure?”

“You looked so happy after that first bite; of course, I’m sure.” Diavolo didn’t hesitate to take another bite. And another.

“MC,” Mephisto chimed in, sliding a light blue cake towards you as Diavolo enjoyed his pudding cake. “Try this one: blue hell rose milk tea tiramisu. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“No, thank you.” You sensed even more judgmental eyes on you.

Diavolo pulled a glossy apple-shaped cake towards him and cut into it with a fork, revealing layers of spiced cake, caramelized apples, and mousse with vanilla bean specks. He brought the cake up to your lips as he had before. This time, you denied him.

“I’m not a fan of apples,” you lied.

Diavolo looked dejected and put the fork down. He grabbed another piece of cake and used the spare fork to bring this one to your lips. “What about this one? It’s black salted caramel cake topped with rainbow toffee bits. Isn’t that whimsical?”

You could hardly hear him through the feeling of demons staring at you. Something just snapped.

“I don’t want the damn cake!” you raised your voice and shot out of your seat. Mephisto and Diavolo stared at you, shocked and concerned. Embarrassed, you apologized and rushed out of the party and back to your and Diavolo’s shared room.

Diavolo stood up to go after you.

“Are you sure you want to leave, too? Maybe you should give her a chance to calm down before you intrude,” Mephisto offered his unsolicited advice.

“I have to go.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I have to. She didn’t get the key from me.” Diavolo held out the room key for Mephisto to see and walked away. Before he left the venue, he quickly grabbed a slice of the cheesecake Mephisto had recommended. He spoke to himself: “I’m just going to bring this with me.”

Besides, he was the prince of the Devildom. Even if he wasn’t supposed to take the cake upstairs, who was going to stop him?

Diavolo found you sitting in front of the room with your head buried in your arms. He kneeled down next to you.

“Hey, my love,” he called out before he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, so worried that he’d frighten you if he just touched you without you knowing he was there.

“Can you please just open the door?” you asked without lifting your head. This was so embarrassing.

He unlocked the door, but you didn’t move. You didn’t want to look at him; you must seem so ridiculous. You imagined the confusion and pity in his eyes as he was staring down at you. Maybe he was regretting even bringing you along. He could have gone with anyone else and enjoyed his time and his cake without you being self-conscious and ruining his night.

“You can go back to the party.” Maybe Diavolo could salvage a bit of his night if he left you to sulk and feel bad about yourself from the comfort of your hotel room.

“I did all the mingling I needed to do. I’d like to stay – if you’ll let me.” When you looked up, Diavolo was offering you his free hand. You took his hand, and that was all he needed.

Once the door was shut, Diavolo sat down on the bed, placing his cheesecake on the coffee table nearby. He pat the spot next to him. “MC, what happened? Do you suddenly hate cake?”

“I didn’t want to eat the cake. I know some of those nobles were looking at me. If I ate the cake, they were going to think, ‘oh of course. That’s how she got like that. No wonder she doesn’t have a nice body like that incubus or like Maddi.’ It’s humiliating. And this outfit doesn’t help. I feel so exposed.”

Diavolo’s heart broke. You could see it in his eyes. His face was stern as he told you, “Your body is divine.”

“You have to think that. You already like me.”

“Does my opinion not matter?” He sounded so hurt.

“It does, but it’s not enough to feel confident when I step into a room. And it’s not enough to change my opinion.”

“You know, most demons won’t compliment you because no one would dare admit how gorgeous you are in front of me. Believe me, I’m not the only one who lusts after your body.”

Diavolo kissed your hand – his eyes burning. He kissed up your arm. “Mephisto relayed some of their comments in the past – he actually recorded them because he was too ashamed to repeat them. Would you like to know what they’ve said?”

Diavolo’s hot breath hit your neck, and you shivered. You didn’t believe that any random demon – especially not the types Mephisto typically associated with – would look at you like that. Part of you was curious, but Diavolo refused to wait for your curiosity to get the better of you. He straddled your lap, and leaned over you so he could whisper in your ear.

“‘I would let her crush me with those thighs just to get between them for a minute.’” Diavolo repeated the words of another demon so seductively. He continued with a mischievous smirk, “‘she could try to asphyxiate me with my tail, and I’d still try to smash.’ Even more depraved: ‘I would let her break off my horns and fuck me with them just to eat her out.’”

You shook your head. “Perverts.”

“They are demons after all.” Diavolo pulled back and stared down at you. “I know it won’t fix everything, but let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”

“I don’t know. I have a lot I need to work on before I feel confident.”

“Please?” Diavolo begged. “Please. I want you so bad that I’m having trouble controlling myself.”

The realization hit. The dirty thoughts he had just repeated weren’t unlike the thoughts running through his own head. He started kissing your neck. With a low growl, his hot breath grazed your skin before he slowly sank to his knees and stared up at you, eyes pleading.

“Please, let me make you feel good.” The need in Diavolo’s eyes made the breath catch in your throat. You wanted him almost as much as he craved you – and the firm rubbing of his hands up and down your thighs wasn’t making you any less desperate for him.

“Can we dim the lights at least?” He could at least do you the favor of giving you something to hide behind.

“Please don’t make me. I want to see every inch of you clearly while I do this.” The affection in his voice was thick and heavy. You couldn’t deny him, even if you were nervous. Diavolo kissed up your clothed thighs. Even through the fabric, you could feel the warmth of his breath. Both of his hands squeezed the tops of your thighs. “Can I? Please?”

“Yes,” you agreed, swallowing any hesitation for him.

Diavolo rose and made quick work of stripping you down to your underwear (which had, fortunately for him, been picked out by Asmo). You looked so sexy. Diavolo took a minute to admire you. It made you feel anxious – as if he was appraising you. However, considering how much the sight of you turned him on, this was less appraisal and more awe. A content sigh left his lips before he leaned in, his body pressed against your chest. He quickly unhooked your bra, sliding one strap off your shoulder with his hand and pulling the other one down with his teeth.

Your shyness resurfaced, and you held the bra to your body, creating a larger space between you and Diavolo. He pouted and gently touched your forearm.

“Please don’t hide. I want to see all of your body.”

“Even if they aren’t –”

Diavolo didn’t even let you finish your sentence before his hands were on either side of your face and his lips were on yours. Despite his desperation, Diavolo made an effort to make the kiss gentle and slow. When he pulled away, you were so pacified that he got in the next words. “My love, they’re tits – your tits. I’m going to love them regardless. So, please show me.”

You hesitated, and Diavolo sighed. He removed his jacket and tie, tossing them on the floor, before he started to unbutton his shirt. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

“That’s hardly fair.” You held the fabric closer to your body. Diavolo was gorgeous and built.

“That’s true. You’re so much sexier when you’re shirtless than I am, but if showing you my body distracts you enough to let me see all of you, then I’m happy to feel like your eye candy for a bit. Besides, if you let me continue, I should probably be shirtless anyway. I want to make a mess of you.”

Maybe seeing how muscular Diavolo was didn’t help your self-esteem right now, but between his eagerness and that sexy offer, your horniness was winning. You put your arms down. Diavolo grinned.

“Thank you.” Diavolo repeated his gratitude between kisses down your sternum. He removed the bra completely and tossed it aside. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

Diavolo nuzzled against you briefly before his tongue found one of your nipples. He swirled his tongue around you and sucked gently, savoring every reaction. You were so pretty like this that he could hardly wait to skip to dessert. The shiver up your spine felt contradictory to the heat of his mouth on you. Your hands snaked into his hair, scratching his scalp gently and earning a sweet moan against your skin. Diavolo swirled his tongue around you gently once more before he slowly pulled away. Teasingly, he blew on your saliva coated nipple. The gasp he pulled out of you was intoxicating.

He continued to kiss down your body as he slid back on his knees. As his hands busied themselves by massaging your thighs, Diavolo gently bit some of the fat on your stomach.

“Don’t,” you whined. The pleasure he was giving you still fought with your insecurity. “It’s embarrassing.”

Diavolo stared up at you in confusion, “why?”

“I have rolls, and you biting them only makes me more aware of them.”

“Most people have rolls. I have rolls, too. See, when I lean into you,” Diavolo made a point to get so close between your legs that his lips were practically touching the fabric of your panties as he spoke, “I have them too.”

You could only see them slightly from that angle – not to mention how hard it was to even think straight with his hot breath so close to you.

“I love your body – so much. Can’t you let your adoring boyfriend kiss and bite your stomach a little bit? It’s so cute and soft.” Those sad, pleading eyes had returned.

Damn this man. He could get away with anything. You nodded, and with a smile, Diavolo placed a kiss on your stomach. He then lowered himself back between your legs. As much as he wanted to dig in, he couldn’t resist marking up those thick thighs he adored so much. Occasionally, as he had done before, when Diavolo pulled away from your skin, he would blow on the residual saliva.

With your thighs marked to both of your satisfaction, Diavolo wanted to give you what he knew you were craving. He noticed the wet spot forming on the fabric. Although he wouldn’t admit it to avoid embarrassing you further, Diavolo could even smell your arousal – and it only made him want you more. He looked up at you with those puppy-dog eyes again and begged, “can I, please?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him.

“Tell me what you want from me. You can even be a little bossy about it.” Diavolo smiled shyly. He was so cute, you wanted to indulge him as much as you wanted him to indulge you.

“Eat me out, Diavolo,” you demanded, snaking your hand into his hair and gently tugging his head back so he was staring up at you. A small surge of power and confidence jolted through you.

Diavolo grinned and sighed contentedly. “You are so fucking hot.”

Diavolo used his teeth to drag your panties down to your knees before pulling them off with his hands. You could feel the urgency as they slid down your calves. Diavolo licked his lips – the only sign of admiration his desperate lust would afford him.

Wet noises filled the room as he alternated between gently licking your clit and lapping up your juices – occasionally twisting his tongue into you. He felt so good that you couldn’t resist grinding into him, which only made him chuckle – sending vibrations against you. He loved knowing that he was making you feel good. Diavolo flicked his tongue over you. Panting, eyes squeezed tight, and nearing your climax, your hands found Diavolo’s hair. You pulled him closer.

“You taste so good. Cum on my tongue, please,” Diavolo begged while licking you. “Use me.”

The waves of pleasure overcame you, and the way Diavolo’s eyes darted up to stare at you – clouded with lust and affection – pushed you over the edge. You fell back against the bed, biting your lip to muffle your moaning.

You expected Diavolo to stop, but he kept going with the same eagerness as before. It wasn’t long before you were writhing. Your back arched off the bed slightly as that attentive tongue of his pushed you into your second orgasm. This time, you couldn’t stifle your moans. Still, Diavolo didn’t stop. You whimpered and pulled on his hair – less gently this time.

“Wait,” you demanded. “It’s too much.”

A low growl emitted from Diavolo’s lips as he reluctantly pulled away. He could have stayed between your legs for hours. His disappointment was short-lived as he remembered something.

“Can you indulge me a bit more?” Diavolo rested his cheek against your thigh and stared up at you. “Pretty please?”

“How so?” You narrowed your eyes.

Diavolo stood up and grabbed the cake. Confused, you watched him lay down in bed on his back and set the plate of cake on his stomach. You weren’t getting it, and when you didn’t move from your spot at the edge of the bed, Diavolo sat up slightly on his elbows, still balancing the cake on his abdomen. He looked at you coyly before admitting, “I want you to sit on my face. Let me eat you out while you eat this cake, please?”

You were worried and hesitant, but he begged so well. No one else could make the prince of the Devildom beg like you.

“Mephisto said it was divine. Just enjoy your dessert while I enjoy mine.”

You really couldn’t deny him. And you weren’t as sensitive as you were a minute ago.

You got up and positioned yourself over Diavolo, nervously. He thanked you and pulled you closer by the thighs, bringing his lips right up to your pussy.

“I want to make you feel good, so don’t you dare hover.” For once, Diavolo was making demands of his own instead of begging you. But with how good his mouth felt, you couldn’t fault him for being pushy.

Somehow, the fork had stayed on the plate with the cake even with Diavolo’s movements. You took a small bite, savoring the taste. This time, when the sweetness hit your tongue, there was no guilt or shame to accompany it. It was all pleasure. Mephisto was right; the cake was delicious. But if he wanted divine, he should try it while getting eaten out. You rolled your hips against Diavolo’s face, and you could feel him smile against you. Gently, Diavolo drew a heart on the side of your thigh, his nail dragging slowly along your skin.

He was being so good to you that you wanted to reward him somehow. You swiped two fingers along the top of the cheesecake, coating your hands in the silky chocolate Demonus glaze. You drew a heart on Diavolo’s abs and leaned over to lick it off him, earning a deep moan that shook you to your core.

You managed another two bites before Diavolo pushed you over the edge again. Your legs were trembling, and you could hardly sit up anymore. Yet again, Diavolo didn’t stop. You were starting to feel overstimulated again.

“Diavolo,” you cautioned him breathlessly.

“Please, just one more?” Diavolo’s sweet pleas reverberated against you.

It felt too good. You couldn’t even lift the fork to your lips to try to eat, so you pushed the cake aside on the bed. As he inched you closer and closer, all you could do was lean over with your chest flush against him. You were so close to the massive bulge in his pants. Maybe you couldn’t even sit up, but you could reward some of Diavolo’s hard work. You rubbed his crotch, feeling how hard he was just from eating you out. His grip on your thighs tightened enthusiastically.

Your moaning hit a fever pitch as Diavolo made you cum once more. With any luck, your neighbors were still down at the party. Left a panting, twitching mess, you barely had the energy to move. While you tried to regain some strength, Diavolo gently licked you clean – sending aftershocks of pleasure up your already spent body. By the time he finished, you could hardly roll over and collapse on the bed next to him.

Pleased with his work, Diavolo chuckled and crawled over you. He kissed you so you could taste yourself on his lips. The taste of the cake was still in your mouth. When Diavolo pulled back he smiled at you. “Somehow, I still prefer your cake to anything else I’ve eaten all night.”

You were too exhausted to roll your eyes. Diavolo laid next to you and held your hand, rubbing circles over your knuckles.

“You are so beautiful.” He caressed your face.

At least for right now, you believed him.

[cleolinda]

Creepypasta: The Dionaea House (2004-2006)

I wanted to post a few of my favorite creepypasta/Weird Internet Fiction stories this month, so of course one of the first I looked up was "The Dionaea House." Dated somewhere back around 2004-2006, it's one of the earliest entries in the genre; I’m not sure how many people know about it now, but Back in the Day, it was one of the creepypasta classics. Then, while researching all this, I discovered to my utter astonishment that it was written by Eric Heisserer—who wrote the Oscar-nominated screenplay for Arrival and is currently best known here, I'd bet, as the show runner of Netflix’s Shadow and Bone.

Years ago, the story was at dionaea-house.com (now offline), and it was the kind of thing you'd stumble across somehow—maybe on a friend's recommendation, maybe from a forum discussion—and then lose yourself in for a whole afternoon. It starts out as the story of a fictionalized Eric posting the emails of an old buddy, Mark, who's trying to figure out why their friend Drew... snapped. And "Eric" is posting these emails because Mark now has disappeared. And before too long... someone else has to pick up the story. Because it turns out that, at the heart of the mystery, there is a house, and going to that house is a mistake. I would describe it a little like House of Leaves, except also smelling like cake, and projecting out to multiple locations rather than pulling you into one infinite labyrinth. Also, a shit ton easier to read.

Relatively speaking, at least. "The Dionaea House" started out as “emails” posted on a blog at that original URL [unofficial mirror], then spun out into a Blogspot, an AIM chat, two separate Livejournals, and multiple commenters interacting on them. Some of them seem to be strangers walking in off the street, as it were, but the trick is, we don’t know which commenters are part of the story, which gives the “flesh puppet” comments, for example, a weird jolt of realism:

(I would like to think “TELL THE HOUSE TO FUCK OFF” is one of the in-story commenters, honestly; I like to think this is who I’d be in a horror story.)

So while "The Dionaea House" doesn't have the single-minded realism of "Ted the Caver," the blog-and-comment format—a found document subgenre for the 21st century—also allows for multiple perspectives. (I’ve lost count of the number of protagonists the house consumes, but it’s at least three, maybe four.) Tumblr is currently in year two of the Dracula Daily read-along, and I’ve always argued that Dracula was a techno-thriller for the nineteenth century: correspondence, newspaper articles, diaries, and even audio journaling on a phonograph. Emails, blogs, chats, phone messages, comments, and an article about the murder-suicide that starts the story—“The Dionaea House” is pretty much in the same multi-perspective, multimedia genre. Unlike Stoker’s bound novel, however, “The Dionaea House” wanders the physical space of the internet, and it trusts that either you'll see that the story has a new branch, or you won't, and that's okay.

In fact, I'm not sure if Eric Heisserer didn't know how to bring the story to a conclusion, or he got busy and couldn't keep going—or maybe there is an ending and I just never found it. (The Loreen Mathers blog doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me and seems like one giant loose end, although the mention of engineer-occultist Jack Parsons adds a new dimension at the last minute.) But as with "Ted the Caver," the lack of a concrete ending makes sense for a shaggy dog story like this, as frustrating as it might be. Maybe Loreen got got, just like everyone else! Isn’t “disappearing before explaining what the hell she’s talking about” exactly what that would look like? We don’t know! If there's a scary house and you manage to burn it down to the ground in a complex denouement, that's a story. If there's a scary house out there, somewhere, and we'll never know how it came to be or what happened to the people who tried to take it on—that's a creepypasta. That’s a legend.

[cookies-and-mirrors]

Prison of Stone and Flesh

Chapter Seventeen

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier and @faceless-mirror.

Dividers by @samspenandsword @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Authors Note: Chapters are getting bigger.. with so much more to ENJOYYYY!

Pairings: Multi-Pairings, Everybody x Everybody.

Triggerlist: transphobia, homophobia, abuse, SA, dubcon, religious trauma, past suicide attempts, mental health issues, grief, death, violence, (To be added to)

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they all navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

MASTERLIST HERE

Taglist: @miamore0570 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @phxntxsmicgoricxl

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny

@latenightmusiclover @dontdiganothergravetoday

(please comment/like/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Chapter Seventeen

By the time Ryan and Justin returned, Ricky had just closed the bar, making them their drinks. He led the way upstairs. Ricky, noticing Ryan’s discomfort, offered to allow him to play video games. The one he offered first was Bayonetta. While Justin ate and drank his drink, Ricky had talked Ryan through how to use the controller, letting him start a new game. Ryan had seemed shocked seeing the enemies of the games… Angels. 

Ryan had just stared at the screen for a moment, after hearing Ricky’s voice, and that moment, his memories. It felt like it would be cathartic. It also felt dangerous, like if an angel found out, he would be asked for his death sentence. He swallowed heavily at the thought, before side glancing at Ricky, wondering why he even had this game. 

Soon after, Ricky and Justin slipped off into Ricky’s room, leaving the gargoyle to play the game, which he seemed to have so much excitement over once he got settled. Meanwhile, in Vinny’s room, Christopher and Vinny were fast asleep together after Christopher had cried himself out.

The next morning, however, Ryan had quite the task in attempting to convince Christopher to return to the rectory come dawn. The elder gargoyle was insistent on staying just five more minutes longer, multiple times, always just five more minutes, while doing nothing but watch the little mortal buzz around the café, making her coffees. In the end… Ryan took in a deep breath, glanced at Justin, with one nod, the youngest of the gargoyles, heaved their commander over his shoulder, and then just carted him back up the stairs of the Church.

Ryan, however, turned back to Vinny, he apologized for depriving her of her companion for the morning, and he’d return him to her tonight. He hoped she had a lovely day, and turned to head upstairs.

She had watched them go, smiling softly, before returning to decorating before the big day. They were closed today before Halloween for the Masquerade they planned and sold tickets for, which was quickly approaching. By the time evening came, she had various costumes waiting for them to choose from laid out in the kitchen waiting. She offered to cut Chris’s hair, and he had readily accepted in front of Justin and Ryan, earning their own offerings from Ricky.

Walking up, to find the Church was being slowly transformed, was a stark reminder of the time of year it was, and it was a time of year none of them were very partial too. The harvest festivals never used to be what this time of year brought now, and Christopher loathed the modern era's life now. Now, when the gargoyles woke to the news the bar intended to have a masque, Ryan assumed that Christopher was going to have an aneurysm. But no, he’d taken one look at Vinny’s excited face when she offered to cut his hair and agreed.

Christopher’s hair, thanks to the added growth from his stone rejuvenation healing sessions, had already grown well past his shoulders again. It always happened with the more extreme injuries.

She gave him a death hawk. Justin ended up with neon green hair. Ryan, Ryan absolutely refused to admit to Ricky that the cut he’d given him was actually decent, that he rather loved it. He’d run his fingers through it, stared in the mirror before looking at the man, and grunted a fine before walking away. 

Ryan went right back to killing Angels on the video game the night before Halloween. He needed it.

By the time Halloween Dusk fell, Vinny was going to the store to grab a last few touches of food. Most of the food had been catered except desserts, but Vinny had insisted on a chocolate fountain and fondue bar. Naturally, she was going to go, in her fluffy costume, to the grocery store a few blocks away to pick up the fruit order along with cookies and pretzels. She was just getting ready to head out, looking up as the Rectory door opened and she waved.

Christopher knew that Vinny was running an errand early tonight, so when they woke from their stone, he wasted no time changing into the costume he’d chosen for the night. Of course, he’d decided on the one that matched Vinny’s very gorgeous dress, he knew that dress, so how could he resist the princelike suit to match. Vinny had convinced him to watch that movie, and while he had thought it was rather ridiculous in places, all the modern visual movies were, seeing how much she loved it, he, was thrilled to see her in her dress.

Once he was ready to go, he left the rectory, and left Justin and Ryan to continue changing. Smiling brightly as he saw Vinny, she looked so exquisite in that billowy poofy dress.

She wrapped her arms around him, before holding his hand. “Come on- we gotta go get the final things-” she said, reaching for him with a wide grin, taking his hand. Her eyes fluttered as she grinned, holding his hand, leading him towards the door and down the street.

Her arm held his to her chest, almost skipping along. Her skirt just lightly dragged over the sidewalk. “I love Halloween. It's always so exciting- this is my first year really celebrating in a while… last year we were too distracted by Ricky's grandparents’ health issues… not that I blame them. But… It definitely wasn't easy to do more than pass out candy. Year before that, the house got egged because we didn't have candy that year-”

Nodding quickly, Christopher was so happy, despite everything. For him Halloween was not a time of year to be celebrated, for many reasons, he neither wanted nor could explain to with Vinny. How did you talk about demons, werewolves, vampires, and all manner of monsters, without sounding like a loon? Still, “I’m sorry you’ve had to miss out on what you enjoy, at least you get to tonight.” He would be sure to stay at the Church tonight, make sure the party was safe, he wasn’t going to risk any dark creatures sneaking in under the guise of those masks. The Church, as blessed holy ground, was exceptionally vulnerable on a night such as tonight, and it was their position to protect it. While it was their job to protect their whole town, there were only three of them left, and with the party as a whole, the Church would be their focus.

“So it’s safe to safe, plenty of candy will be purchased?” Sure, the party was supposed to be for the adults, and it was well into the late hours of the night, but could you ever tell really with misfit mortals on all hallows eve?

“Most definitely!” She cheered, “Rick had been so heartbroken-” she whispered softly. “Can't have it go bad.” She insisted, with an odd determination. The mortal was so confident everything would be perfect. As they walked she waved to children with soft eyes, “I want to have a baby… but I can't… but if I accidentally knock Ricky up… I… I would be okay, but I've never asked him.”

She sighed, “Anyway-” she sighed softly and skipped ahead some twirling for him. “It's impossible to think about… let's focus on tonight.”

It was horrible, thinking about everything Ricky had been though, and something as small as ruined Halloween still enough to break his heart. Christopher was happy to try and make tonight easier for him, even if it was just to make sure they had plenty of candy. Of course, then, then Vinny was mentioning a baby, a baby, and Christopher’s throat when completely dry as his stomach tied in knots. Not only remembering his babies. He couldn’t lie, he’d had children before those Chenza had carried, he’d been bred before, many times, but those babies he was going to have with his mate? The thought of… the thought of giving Vinny babies… Wait… accidentally knocking… Ricky… Christopher had to take in a sharp breath to stop himself from, from… Saying something very stupid.

Vinny knew him as male. She… she knew him as mortal, as human… she knew him with the narrow gender binary of the human focus, and everything inside of him wanted to scream. He could give her the baby… babies she craved. Offer to let her breed him if she so desperately craved it… and he yearned for it, but the words were stifled in his throat. His knew he couldn’t, he shouldn’t, it wasn’t right, even if she knew.

She skipped ahead a bit further, running to help a kid pick up some spilled candy before sending them back to their parents. The street had mostly fallen still, and she looked up with wide eyes to Chris, unaware of the danger that lurked just beyond. A low growl of a hellhound before it leapt for her, leaving her with a stunned scream, turning around to see the blazing eyes so dark they burned with hate and rage.

Justin and Ryan had, well, their costumes didn’t feel like technical costumes exactly. According to Vinny, from what they’d picked, they were more like what she’d called, ren faire attire, and so Ricky had assured them, he’d supply them with the perfect masks for them tonight once they were ready. All Justin knew was it was leather, and strappy, and it felt like a modern, fancy version of what they usually wore to fight in, and so much cooler. He could actually wear his swords tonight, sheathed in their belt of course, safety first, but he felt so good about his costume, it was fantastic. That was until Ryan was reminding him, again, about how he needed to talk to Ricky about talking to Christopher about what had happened. 

Why did he need to talk to Ricky? Besides, yes, Christopher was acting a little funny, but he seemed happy with Vinny, right? Sure, he almost hadn’t come back up the last two dawns, which, was bad, but… okay, okay, he sighed, fine, he’d go talk to Ricky… So he started to head down to find Ricky.

Ricky was finishing final preparations. He was dressed up in a white suit, white mechanical wings over his shoulders. He looked… divine in the most literal sense. Haunting and tempting as he finished adding the chocolate to the fountain, directing the hired bartenders to their bars, happy that he had taught them the cocktails the day before.

His long hair draped over between his wings almost to just below his ribs and he turned to look at the rectory door…

Justin barely made it to the top of the stairs when he was looking down to the bar level, seeing the chocolate fountain that Vinny had told him about, he’d been excited to see… And then Ricky… Ricky was hard to miss… oh he was impossible to miss. Justin’s eyes went wide when he saw him… oh… oh shit. He froze before stepping back from the stairs and retreating back down the hall all the way back into the rectory and closing the door behind him. “I fucked an angel.”

Ryan sighed, almost as if he expected this. He did not even look up from where he was oiling his war hammer and making sure there was not even the tiniest bit of rust in any of the angel runes etched into it. “Negative. You’ve fucked a Nephilim. Completely different species.” They were born for one. Little bit of human mixed in and all that jazz, actually made a massive difference too. “Now go make him fix Christopher, you know how angel blood affects him still.”

The younger gargoyle just stared at Ryan for a long moment, his face aghast that he even thought he could go down there and get Ricky to do this, without, without… “How am I supposed to explain, without, without..” Ryan sighed, a put upon sound.. “Tell him, idiot, tell him everything..”

“Well, why don’t you do it?” The exclamation came right back at the older gargoyle, Justin just couldn’t handle what was happening here, what this implied. “Because, Justin, I’m not his mate. I’m not the one he’s in love with. Yes, he might trust me, but you’re the one that's already marked all over his skin, you’re already his BabyBoy.. So march your ass down there, and tell him the truth about who you are. Not only because we both know Christopher is fully aware of everything Ricky has made him do, whether he’s enjoyed it or not, it’s going to piss him off… But it’s also going to affect Ricky to realize this has happened. Go.”

Justin swallowed, Ryan wasn’t wrong. Taking a breath, he steeled himself before he slipped out of the rectory again, this time, fully walked down the stairs towards the bar.

Ricky had walked towards the stairs, lips parted some seeing Justin his eyes lit up glowing silver with his joy. “Babyboy-” he whispered, opening his arms to him eagerly, missing him already from the hours he was absent. Noting his discomfort, though, he stopped, frowning some. “What's the matter?”

Oh, his eyes, Justin had always been mesmerised by Ricky’s eyes, but he’d never even thought, and now, it was so obvious. How many beings had eyes that glowed silver? He smiled a little, he was happy to see Ricky, he was, he just… He… “I…” Swallowing, “There is something I need to talk to you about.” 

Ricky swallowed. The only time someone said those words to Ricky…. It was bad news. Scenarios rolled through his mind and his eyes teared up. “Are…you going to break up with me?”

Justin knew how this sounded, he knew how ominous needing to talk sounded, smiling a little that Ricky was so worried, that he actually wanted him. “No, you couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to, Daddy.” Well, that was a lie, and Justin swallowed as it slipped out. Still Justin was fierce in the fact in he would never want to leave, but, if Ricky wanted to, he could do a lot of things now, especially with his abilities. 

“We should go somewhere else, though.” Glancing to the hired bartenders for the night, “It’s best we talk alone.”

“O… okay.” He said following after him with wide eyes, grabbing his hand, “you're worrying me…” he whispered softly, petting his hand softly, thinking as best he could, shivering. 

Justin guided him through the Church, he could take him upstairs, but he didn’t, he took him towards the back and to one of the store rooms where he knew it would be quiet. Tilting his head slightly, he heard no one close by, good, he’d be able to heard if anyone got close enough to overhear. Pulling over some crates of wine, carefully to not break anything, but a little more smoothly than he might another night, he was trying to seem mortal like, “Here, let’s sit.” Never letting go of Ricky’s hand as they settled… “So, there is what, I think, is a fantastic part, possibly scary part, and a, well, I never want to see you again Justin, you are insane part… Which do you want first?”

“I… Justin… I don't know.” He whispered, sitting and turning to look directly at him. His eyes were framed in black and gold. A vision in his own way. “Baby…” he whispered. “Please just tell me-”

He was freaking out, Justin decided to start with the fantastic part, what he thought of as the fantastic part, the part even Ryan had seen… And Justin reached for Ricky’s face and cupped his cheeks in his massive hands. “I love you.” Next came for the insane part. “Now, now comes the insane part, gargoyles, Ricky, they are real, I… I am real.” Swallowing, “I am Loyalty… Ryan is, is Trust, and Christopher-”

Ricky stared at him. He was Loyalty. The one he loved was Loyalty. “Loyalty…” he whispered, stunned as he stared up at him, “… I want to see. I need to…” he whispered softly, focused on that fact. He needed to know. He had to. “… Please.”

It was begging almost, the way Ricky’s voice broke with the final uttered word. Please. Desperate for the proof for one reason, he had to know. He had to have that proof.

Right, of course, there was no way that Ricky wasn’t going to not want proof of some kind, and in here, well. Standing up from the crate, transforming on the crate would just destroy the wine, he’d be too heavy, be worse than the beds. “While we turn to full stone during the day, we can also shift into living stone armour with our beast forms or just the beast, but, I figure you need the whole look, so, here goes, I’ll ah, try not to break anything down here…” Swallowing slightly, he stepped as far from the walls, shelves, boxes, before his wings came out and his body started to shift. Growing larger, and changing from flesh and blood into his stone living armour of his winged humanoid beast before he moved onto all fours in front of Ricky.

His jaw went slack, and he stood walking to him reaching out to touch him, fingers tracing memorized details, the nick here… the chip there. His hands reached up, cupping his face, looking into his eyes with nothing but wonder, adoration, familiarity and love. His hands glided upwards tracing his horns slowly, such a light touch… “Loyalty… you… heard me…?” he asked, mouth dry now as it dawned on him… all the confessions… all the moments of doing homework at his feet… Asking him history questions. 

“And… you still wanted me.”

When Ricky touched him, that he wasn’t pulling away, that he was still touching him even if he didn’t think he was nothing but a statue. After a moment, he let the stone skin melt away, and before the man, was just the beast, very much living, he wasn’t just some ornamental decoration that most mortals assumed him to be his entire life. He still wanted him… that had been a difficult process for him, after watching Ricky grow up, after seeing this man be a boy… From a child… it was different knowing he was a mortal… and now, now he wondered if Ricky even was mortal. Of course, when he did think about Ricky worried about Justin wanting him, and he reacted without thinking, his tongue lagging out and licking up Ricky’s cheek, long and slow.

He blushed and knelt, wrapping his arms around his neck, kissing his face softly, stroking his face. “Justin- Babyboy-” he whispered, feeling him more eagerly now his skin smooth and silky soft with a layer of hard... some points covered in slick fur, and he moved, kissing his face again. “Next time… can we do something like this…?” he asked, “With you like this-” he asked, shivering at the thought in excitement.

Ricky hadn’t needed to kneel at all, even on all fours of his claws, Justin was far taller than average beasts, he was massive whether on all fours or standing on two feet. On two feet, he was as tall as Christopher even- Christopher… shit… that had Justin huffing slightly before he shifted back into his human, kneeling before Ricky, his costume, even his jacket completely intact. It took focus to be able to shift and control to shift with their clothes intact but as they could, if they didn’t, they destroyed them and shifting back they were left as naked as their beast forms. It would take a moment to realize that Justin had altered the back of his shirt, and jacket, just enough to allow use of his wings, he’d needed to in case something happened tonight. Halloween was dangerous enough, there was no way they would risk not fighting tonight if they needed to, and Justin didn’t want to ruin Vinny’s costume. 

“Oh, oh, I am aware, of how interested, you are, in that.” He was, he would never forget a certain scrubbing of his dick while he was in his stone form. “But there is more, now for the sorta, scary part… Christopher. When you tackled him the other night, the way you talked to him-” He didn’t quite know how to put this, “it was powerful, and I think, it had an effect on him, that we need to undo. He’s not acting like himself.” Pausing…

“Ricky, I don’t think you are entirely human.”

“What… What do you mean?” He asked, “of course I'm human…. w…” He stared up at him, clearly confused. “What are you talking about? What would I be…?”

This, this was another part of the scary part, not just because Justin knew Christopher would be aware of everything he was being forced to do against his will because of the way the angels made gargoyles. Also because of what Ricky was, and well…

“A Nephilim, from what you’ve said, I think it was your father, don’t worry about him, we’ll discuss him later.” They would, they needed to, every angel that knew about Ricky’s existence put him in danger and Justin was not going to allow him to be hurt, he wasn’t. “I know it seems strange, he… does not seem angelic… Not all of them are. The ones I have met, aren’t. Ricky, this, your power, you, you commanded Christopher, and he can’t fight it, it’s controlling him. Please, I’ll tell you everything after tonight, I’ll answer all of your questions, everything you could possibly want to know, but please help me with Christopher? He won’t hurt Vinny, he would never do that... willingly. You don’t need to command him for that.”

Ricky swallowed, throat suddenly bone dry. “Nephilim…?” he whispered stunned for a moment, “I… I shouldn’t… be alive.” he whispered as if something clicked in his head and he sank hands pressed to the floor, as the world spun around him.  “I…” he looked up hearing Justin as much as he could nodding dumbly, hands shaking violently. “I… will.”

Justin wished he knew how to comfort him better than this. He wished he knew how to, but to find out that he was a part of a species that, as far as Justin was told, was supposed to die at the hands of his father. That was technically never even supposed to be born? He knew it was a heavy truth to learn. When Ricky looked up to him though, and Ricky agreed, Justin cupped his cheeks just as he had when he told him he loved him, “I will never let anyone hurt you.” Not his father, not anyone.

As for Christopher, “And when Christopher gets back with Vinny, we’ll sort out what we need to do.”

He nodded slowly before collapsing into Justin, holding onto him for the sheer fact he knew Justin wouldn’t lie to him. Wouldn’t betray his trust- he knew. “H…hold me for a little bit… please…” he whispered, hiding his face in his neck and chest.

There was no hesitation as Justin pulled Ricky up and wrapped around him, the contrast in their size might be comical, but for Justin, it was just pure Ricky. Holding him to him, dipping his head to press a light kiss to his shoulder, holding him tight, as long as he needed him to. 

The stillness of the street set Christopher’s teeth on edge, that was never a good sign when they were on patrol. It felt worse now. You’d think quiet was good, that it was perfect, and it was, but stillness was something else. Stillness was supernatural, and it was the kind of feeling that set the hair on the back of your neck up, and tingles down your spine if you recognized it. Christopher was moving the moment the growl sounding, his body already shifting even before she screamed. His instincts snapping into place with an audible crack sounding through the air, bones shifted, muscles stretched, and the massive gargoyle slammed into the fire blazing hellhound slamming it into the side of the building. 

A dagger in one hand, clawed fingers of his other, Christopher swiped at the beast as it snapped at him like the oversized mutt that it was. When it finally gave in, Christopher was stepping back from the skirmish, all massive, eight foot tall, winged, massive beast of a creature, likely no better of a monster than the hellhound was to Vinny at that moment… With that clawed hands, feet, wings up over his back, the tattoos covering almost every inch of his skin… Most of him transformed and exposed in his living stone for battle… His voice rough, grating as he almost growled low at her himself with his words, but it was still his voice as he towered over her, all eight foot of him. Even more if you count the effect of his wings increasing his height presence even more.

“Now you know who I am.”

She was breathless as she looked up at him sitting on the sidewalk, wide green eyes trained on him. Listening to him, she was on her feet rushing to him and wrapped her body around his, afraid of him leaving her. Of him running away as she pressed her face into his chest. “Chris-” she whispered, “I don't care… I love you, not what you are.” She whispered looking up at him, still shaking like a leaf, holding to him for support.

In this form, she barely made him up to his chest, she, she loved him. He could hear her words so perfectly crystal clear, even as she was shaking, and he, it was almost hard for him to believe. This, beautiful creature, loving a monster, that didn’t deserve her, that practically used her because of the way she reminded him of his mate… and she loved him… Falling down to his knees before her, so he could face her properly, just for a moment, as himself… “I do not deserve you, BabyGirl.”

Her arms wrapped around him, holding onto him, “Chris- Chris- I just want you. I love you… I’ve been in love with you for weeks-” she whispered to him, “That’s not going to change because you’re a gargoyle- You’re my Chris.” she whispered holding onto him, face pressed to his neck softly, fingers gripping at him firmly.

“Chris.” Her Chris. Sighing softly. He could be Chris, couldn’t he? Chris, not always, Christopher. He could, let go, just a little bit more. “I, I can be Chris.”

She pressed closer looking up at him before pressing her lips to his, kissing along his face and fangs, all of him, loving him as she wrapped her arms around his neck firmly. She whispered softly as if asking if it was okay.

He was almost holding his breath when she was leaning into him, swallowing as her lips brushed against his, and then kissing against him, taking in a sharp breath the more she did. Until, then, he was kissing her back a little, groaning softly. The question, “C-careful of the teeth.” He didn’t want her hurting herself, he wouldn’t like that at all. He’d used them before to rip flesh from bone in a feral moment. When it came down to baser instinct, and he was out of weapons, if he was down to his fangs and claws, he did what he had to. Not to mention, when he was created, those were the weapons he was made with, nothing but his claws, and his fangs. Everything else, had come later. This, before her, was purely how he had begun. 

Her hands explored his body, careful and slowly making out with him as best she could, raking her nails through his fur around his shoulders, “Chris- I’m being careful… I promise.” she assured him, playing with his hair.

Christopher, Chris, the feel of her hands running down over his skin, the soft light almost layer of fur in spots of his body cushioned where her nails ran over him. He let out a low groan of a growl as she did against her lips. The fact that she wasn’t remotely scared away from him like this, the creature, the beast, the thing that mortals had been calling grotesque for as long as he’d known… Not only did she not run, but Vinny came closer, she touched him, she kissed him… she wanted more. He wasn’t just a fantasy, a statue to her like this. He was a living breathing monster, beast before her. A creature that could rear up and destroy her with barely a swipe of his claws. A shudder ran through him, under her touch, he wanted more of her, so much more, just as he had dared for his claws to reach for her though, to risk it, there was a shrill sound. It took him a moment to remember what it was. 

His phone.

A half snarl escaped him as he pulled back from her and shifted back from her, the transition back was swift, his wings, swooping around his body to wrap around him. They almost seemed to replace the clothes to his upper body that had been absent with his beast form, his costume completely intact once more, as if it were never gone. Magic was fun that way. He needed his clothes, and his fingers for that matter, human once more, so he could take out his phone… “Ryan.” He answered the call to the other gargoyle, “Yea, we’re fine, just a bit of side step, just picking everything up, on our way, hmmm, really? Fine.” 

Closing the phone, “Apparently Ryan thinks there is something Ricky wants to talk to me about when we get back.” He didn’t like the sound of that. He had only just broken out of the damn angel control from the nephilim’s first command, if he thought he could put him under again. Who was he kidding, he wouldn’t even need to use the voice to tell him what to do. Not even Ryan knew of the complete control angels could have over the likes of Christopher, and he liked it that way. Once, he hadn’t been just angels, it was everyone, he hadn’t been able to say no, or deny what anyone wanted of him, he had been created to serve, and nothing else. Those born under him, generations of gargoyles after him, did not have this defect, only the angel's voice, their commands affected them. Thankfully over time, Christopher, and others created of his time learned to overcome this glitch, for all beings except one, angels themselves. Angels could still tell him what to do, no questions asked. All Ricky would have to do, is tell him to sit, and he would, he wouldn’t be able to help himself. These last few days, the haze, had been the command, but it wasn’t always needed. If Ricky figured that out, he was screwed. 

Smiling a little tightly to Vinny, “We should finish our errand, and get back before they miss us.”

She nodded slowly, “I don't know why he would want to talk to you- but yeah… I guess we should.” she sighed, getting off the ground and dusted off, holding his arm gently with a smile. The rest of the walk was uneventful, gathering the several platters of fruit, candy, and marshmallows. Vinny opted to take the bags, letting Chris juggle the platters for her. All eight of them.

Half way back, Vinny looked up at him with soft eyes, “Chris… I just want you to know… my full name since I know yours… My name is Vincenza Amelia Mauro.”

Carrying the trays, that might have been a challenge, it might have been, if he hadn’t been playing with sharp objects and learning how not to accidentally stab himself repeatedly for as long as he could remember. Juggling a few trays? Child's play. Chris was however curious as she looked at him like that though, pausing to adjust, and he was glad he did when he heard what she said to him.

Vincenza. Her name. 

“Ch-Chenza? Your name is Vincenza?” He felt like he was a bit dumbfounded, of all things, he’d thought he’d been shocked enough seeing her face in Vinny.

“Yeah.” She whispered, “given name was Vincenzo… but Vincenza always felt right.” She admitted, looking at him with a soft smile. “You okay? I know. It's a weird name-”

By the Angels, even her birthed name… “It’s not that weird, I knew someone else with that name once. She…” Looking over to her, as his heart clenched so painfully, but his eyes were bright as he looked at her. “I told you about her. My love, my mate. She went by Chenza, born Chenzo.”

She looked at him, blinking slowly, stunned for a moment, breathing hard for a moment in the corset, her hand reaching up to touch his arm so softly. “Chris...” she whispered, looking his face over tenderly and slowly. Rosey lips parted some as she listened to him so intently.

Then she was pulling him along into the church with an… odd expression on her face. Pain. Heartbreak and guilt.

She didn’t need to feel guilty, he was the one that deserved that, he was the one that was using her for his own comfort, his own grief. Chris could only pray that she would forgive him in time for the confession he’d just laid at her feet. Vinny was practically a carbon copy in so many ways of his deceased mate, and it killed him. If she never forgave him, he would deserve it. It was right though, almost like something of Chenza was left in the world, and thinking that made him happy, even if she chose not to stay with him beyond tonight.

As they came to the Church, thankfully the trays he held, mercifully staying intact as they made it inside, and he approached the bar, placing them down, for the hired workers for the night to collect them. “I guess I should find Ricky, find out what he wants.” He was not looking forward to that, angel powers or otherwise. He wondered if having a frank conversation with the young man would help, or if it would give him far too much power over him.

She grabbed him before he had the chance to step too far away, pulling him back to herself. Green eyes looked up into caramel and honey eyes, lips parted slightly as she smiled, “Sorry I was gone so long, darling.”

Chris went to go find the half-breed angel, steeling himself for what could be a horrible conversation, and one that Ricky would likely have no idea how much of a disaster it was. He couldn’t blame him, he would have no clue the effect he had on him, none of them did, the command power angels had over gargoyles was one thing but, him? To his knowledge he was the only original gargoyle left, what did it matter if he had no free will when they spoke to him. Then Vinny was reaching for him, and he was looking down at her, even in his human form he was more than a foot taller than her like this. 

Sorry she was, what? “Vinny, I-” Gone, where had she- he swallowed slowly looking into her eyes, those eyes, his voice so strangled and rough as he looked into her eyes… pain clawing into his chest as he felt like he was about to collapse… “Chenza?”

Her arms opened to him, pulling him in, “Yeah, baby. I'm here.” She whispered, pulling him into a kiss, passionate and desperate, as her fingers held on. “I’m home… I’m home now.”

Arms wrapped her tiny frame just short of crushing her to him, kissing her like he couldn’t breathe, backing off just for little bits so that he knew that she could actually breathe. The last thing he wanted was to risk losing her again. Holy- “Never, never losing you again, BabyGirl, never.”

“Oh, come on, I called you to try and avoid this, Justin! Where is Ricky? Christopher and Vinny are back, he’s ready for, whatever…” Ryan didn’t know how to undo a command, whenever he had been commanded, he just always had to wait for Jerahmiel to undo the command himself. Hopefully, this would work.

Vinny was still kissing Chris, keeping his attention on her while she flipped Ryan off blatantly, licking into his mouth, ignoring Ryan, before pulling back to look at the other gargoyle. “Ryan. Fuck off. Let me keep my mate to myself.” She growled protectively.

Ryan just stared at Vinny for a moment, her mate… And… he… Fuck… that… That… looking up at Christopher… How? How did he get his mate back? Even if for a little while… Sure, she was mortal… But he had her back. Just looking into his eyes and he saw Christopher was fine. It wasn’t the same dopey look… Well… it was… But this time it was one he recognized. The idiot in love. “Never mind Justin, he'll be fine, tell Ricky he's off the hook. Christopher broke through himself finally, it seems. With the help of his mate.” Never did Ryan think he could hate any of them before, but maybe he hated Christopher right then, just a little bit. Just a little… Getting Chenza back, when he, he… Fucking bastard.

Ricky had been just coming around the corner, seeing her flipping Ryan off, his jaw dropped. He had never known Vinny to be that spunky. He looked between Ryan and Vin with Chris. What the fuck was this.