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killerlookz · 2 days

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Olive Green Couch | Spencer Reid

description: when your best friend drags you to a party to meet a boy she's been fawning over, you find yourself completely bored and unimpressed- good thing you've stumbled upon a strikingly handsome (yet awkward) young graduate student named Spencer who seems equally as unhappy to be there to share your misery with.

pairing: grad school! spencer reid x f! reader

content: uhh mostly fluff, drinking, reader is described as wearing a mini skirt and wearing high heels.

word count: 4,242

If I have to hear one more Weezer song I'm going to be sick. You think as the slow drums of Undone pour out over an all too expensive speaker system for a frat house.

The MIT frats were nothing like you experienced before, they were- for lack of a better term- a complete and utter sausage party. You can't remember the last time you'd seen this many men in a single room. If you weren't so bored maybe you would appreciate this as a reprieve from the usual maintaining "ratio" of the state school frat parties you'd been to. But even now you'd prefer that if it meant you wouldn't have to deal with another sloppily drunk man explaining the plot of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to you. Rich, pretentious, too smart for his own good MIT frat guy or dude-bro, alpha male, business major state school frat guy- it didn't matter; they were the same side of the same misogynistic coin.

You look down at the shot-glass sized solo cup in your hand, staring at the clear liquid inside. Maybe just one more shot and you'd finally start to enjoy the state you were in. You hoped maybe six shots would be the perfect number of drunk to enjoy yourself. You screw your eyes shut and throw back your head as you lift the cup to your mouth. The cheap vodka burns the second it touches your tongue, and you wince as you feel it travel down your throat and to your stomach. Your body shivers involuntarily as the warmth in your belly grows.

You face forward again, looking across the living room for your best friend- the one who dragged you here in the first place. You had suggested bar hopping or trying to get into a club, you didn't buy her a fake ID for no reason. But she insisted on coming here instead. Here- to this sweaty house filled with... well... dorks. She came here looking for some guy- Michael... Matthew... Miles.... shit, you couldn't remember. It didn't matter, you were here now, and she had ditched you to fend for yourself.

You take a step forward and all the alcohol you had drank prior seems to hit you a once, "Woah" You can't help but say out-loud as you catch your balance and wait for the room to stop spinning.

You take a few more wobbly steps forward before acclimating to your new, tipsy state. You make your way through the dimly lit house, trying to find your friend amongst the crowd and rowdy conversations. Observing the bodies that populated the house you suddenly felt insecure, and insanely overdressed- why was everyone wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Maybe a mini skirt was the wrong choice for tonight.

You make your way to a back room of the house, occupied by maybe only 10 people by your inebriated brain's estimate. There's an ugly looking olive green couch in the middle of the room- it' had obviously been through a lot but and you hated to imagine what had happened on that couch over the years, but right now it looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. You walk over and plop yourself over onto the couch, the cushions having a lot less give than you expected.

The beginning riff of Someday by The Strokes plays just outside of the room, and you groan- turning to the guy who you had just realized was sitting next to you.

"Do you know who's Dj-ing this fucking thing- can you tell them to play some Britney or something?" The words fall off your tongue, sloppily.

The boy sitting next to you turns to look at you, a confused look drawn upon his face, "Huh- me?"

Shit. He's kind of cute- In a dorky sort of way. His brown hair is perfectly unkempt, and small curls form at the back of his neck. His jawline is sharp, and his hollow cheeks accentuate his prominent cheek bones. His eyes are dark, and he looks a like he hasn't slept in years- you figured with the workload MIT students probably have- it would make sense if he actually hadn't slept since getting there. Truth be told, all things combined he looked a little sickly- he was obviously lanky maybe scrawny was a better word- his button up shirt seemed a little ill-fitted for his body, and his tie poorly tied. Still- you couldn't help but notice he was hot. The first hot guy you'd seen all night.

"Yes, you, pretty boy." You smirk.

His face reads as even more confused upon your clarification.

"Oh um," He looks down at the half-drunken beer that sits between his legs, shakes his head before looking back up at you, "I-uh I don't know the DJ, and I- um, also don't know who Britney is." He responds, a small nervous tremble in his voice.

"Spears?" You let out a small laugh, "You know like- Hit Me Baby One More Time." You half sing.

"Oh-" He looks off to the side, "No" he faces you again.

"Go figure," You scoff, still, keeping a smile on your face. "Say- are you in this frat?"

He shakes his head, "Oh- no, I'm a grad student."

"A grad student?" You respond, your eyes widen in shock no shot the man you were looking at right now was any older than you. "How old are you?"

"21" He responds, almost nonchalantly- like it wasn't some insane feat. "Well," He clarifies, "I'm actually in my third graduate program, I already have a PhD in mathematics and chemistry, from Cal Tech. I'm working on my engineering one now."

"Jesus," You smile, "So what, you're like some sort of genius, huh?"

"Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified- but I do have an IQ of 187, and an eidetic memory, and can read twenty thousand words per-minute."

You stare at him in awe for a moment, "So, a you are a genius?"

He gives you a small smile in response, "Yeah- I guess." He nods.

You're suddenly intrigued, only twenty-one years old and already a doctor twice over.

"So what brings you here Doctor...uh..."

"Reid," He nods and presses his lips into a line. "Oh! But, don't call me doctor you can call me Spencer."

"Well then, what brings you here, Spencer?" You correct yourself with a smile.

"My friend- uh he wanted me to come with him, he's meeting some girl here and he didn't want to go alone. I kind of got dragged along."

"Well," You grin, "It must be fate that we're here together on this ugly green couch, because if you could believe it- I'm here for the exact same reason except my friend- she's uh, meeting a guy here."

Spencer takes a small sip of the beer he had been holding, wincing as the liquid touched his lips. You figured he probably wasn't much of a drinker, he probably had things much more important on his plate than getting drunk and partying.

"Not much of a partier?" You ask to confirm your suspicions.

"Mhh," Spencer hums, mouth still full of beer, he shuts his eyes tight as he swallows thickly. "No." He shakes his head violently. "What gave it away?"

"Oh!" You bite your lip... "Nothing!" You say, innocently, voice steeped in sarcasm.

"It's okay," He laughs, "I know I look like a dork."

His laugh is infectious, and you can't help but smile in response. And Damn- he's really cute.

"Oh! Don't say that," You swat your hand at him, "I'm sure you get tons of ladies."

Spencer tilts his head to one side, in obvious disbelief of what you just said,

"I don't really appreciate the sarcasm," He says, his eyes narrowing at you.

"Sarcasm?" You pout, "No- I mean it Spencer, what you're like a genius. And I mean- you're not bad to look at," You bite your lip, "Not at all."

Spencer shook his head, "I was a child prodigy in a Las Vegas public school, and until now, I've always been way younger than everyone in college- my experience with girls is practically in the negatives."

"Oooh!" You smirk, "Vegas," You raise an eyebrow.

"Mhm," He takes another sip of his beer, his face more relaxed this time.

"You think I'd make a good showgirl?" You wink

"Oh- um," Spencer is suddenly blinking rapidly as his head scans you up and down. You can't help but feel a little bad at the way you have him flustered,

"I'm kidding! You don't have to answer that." You reassure. "Negative experience with girls, hm?"

"Yeah- I-uh, I haven't even had my first kiss yet." He says, looking down at his lap, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"No?" You say, still shocked, even given his prior explanations of his experiences with women, "Well..." You start, pausing for a moment, "If you ever want that to change let me know." Maybe that last part was meant to be a joke, but truth is you kind of really hoped he said yes, right there, right now.

"What?" He looks back up at you, eyebrows furrowed, "No- I don't need a pity kiss. I don't even know who you are."

"It is not a pity kiss, and I'm y/n, I go to UMASS, the Boston campus- like 15 minutes away. I'm 20, and uhhh... Well, the rest you can find out later." You wink, "Now you know me!" You smile, perking up from your spot on the couch.

"Well- uh. Nice to meet you y/n" He gives you an awkward tight lipped smile. "Are you- um- enjoying your night."

"God no," You scoff. "Does that make two of us?"

Spencer nods, side moving his eyes to look around the room. It had gotten significantly more crowded since you'd came in here, you hadn't noticed, you'd been too focused on getting to know Spencer that you kind of forgot you were at a party to begin with. It didn't seem to matter now anyway, you were intrigued beyond belief and wanted to know more about Dr. Reid.

"So, why'd you leave Caltech? The weather is certainly a lot nicer than it is here," Your body physically recoils at the thought of having to go back outside to the brisk New England fall after the party was over.

Spencer shrugged, "You can only get so many degrees at one place before you need a change of scenery. I've been at CalTech since I was like- fourteen."

"Fourteen?" Your eyes widen, thinking about what you were like at fourteen. You certainly weren't CalTech material, that's for sure. "When did you graduate high school?"

"1993," He smiles and nods, "Twelve years old"

Spencer had a charming humility about him, he was the smartest person you'd ever met but he spoke in a way that made it feel like it was every day that someone could graduate high school at 12 and have two PhDs by 21.

"What do you plan on doing after college with that pretty head of yours?" You ask, your slightly intoxicated brain unable to stop you from instinctively reaching out and fluffing his hair. Spencer's eyes flick up towards your hand and he gives you an awkward smile paired with a small laugh.

"Well- I uhh... I've been in contact with this guy- well from the FBI, the BAU... Behavioral Analysis Unit. We came into contact after my second dissertation, he was shocked at how young I was, having done so much- he suggested I come to the academy when I was done with this one." Spencer explained, he talked in a way that made him seem unsure of himself, like he, himself didn't fully understand how it happened.

"God," You muse, "The fucking FBI? Could you get any cooler?"

"You know," Spencer remarks, "I think that's the first time anyone has ever used to word "cool" to describe me." The tone in his voice is light, it's clear he's happy about that fact, but you can't help but feel your heart break at the statement.

"Cool even sounds like a little bit of an understatement to me. But you know... I think I'm a little too intoxicated right now to think of a synonym, so cool it is!"

"Do you have any plans for after college?" Spencer asks, nervously running a finger around the rim of the glass in his lap.

"Nothing as cool as the FBI," You shrug, "Actually, nothing concrete, really. Has me feeling a little inadequate in a room full of geniuses."

"Oh trust me," Spencer scans his head around the room, "Not all of these guys are geniuses."

"Well- they're complete nerds at the very least." You giggle.

"I think I qualify as a nerd too." Spencer smiles back.

"Oh you definitely do," You say, scooting closer to him, taking the beer glass out of his hand, "But you haven't tried to talk down to me about some movie everyone's seen, or some album everyone's heard like I'm some dumb idiot bimbo yet." You huff, finishing what was left of the liquid in the glass with a single gulp. You slam the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, "And even if I was a dumb idiot bimbo- what makes them think I'd care about whatever they'd have to say about OK Computer. We've all listened to Karma Police, big deal!" You realize you're getting a little heated over this and cut yourself off, "Anyways," You smile, "What I mean is you don't seem like some self important loser."

"Oh," Spencer furrows his eyebrows, "Thank...you?"

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Y-Yeah, Yeah we can go." Spencer nods.

You stand up from the couch, wobbling a little bit as your legs lift you up. The room, is blurry, for a moment all you can see are vague blobs of color instead of people. You shut your eyes tight, blinking them open to fix your blurry vision. You glance over toward Spencer, who's grabbing a tan suit jacket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He slinks the jacket on over his thin frame.

"You alright?" He asks, concern in his eyes. He must have been able to read the drunk all over your face.

"Y-Yeah I'm fine, lets go," You nod, reassuringly. You could handle your liquor, besides you hadn't drank that much tonight.

The two of you head for the door, wherever it is. Spencer was leading the way, and you hoped he had a better sense of direction than you did. The music is suddenly a lot louder as you exit the room you were in, and you suddenly feel a lot drunker. The sudden change in feeling causes you to stumble a little, bumping Spencer in the back. High heels and alcohol were never a good mix.

"Oh- hey," Spencer stops suddenly, turning around to smile at you, "Are you sure you're alright?"

You look around the room, at the hoard of people, the room thick with a combination of weed and cigarette smoke. You've never felt so lost in your life when did it get so crowded in here? The obnoxious yelling of frat guys mixed with the music turned to a volume you were sure would get the cops to show up is absolutely ear-splitting.

"Can you hold my hand?" You ask Spencer, needing his guidance more than you realized.

"Uh, yeah, yeah." He nods. You reach your hand out for Spencer to grab, and it takes him a few times to correctly slot his fingers between yours. You smile a little, watching him try to figure out the perfect hand-holding position. He couldn't be more pathetic if he tried- it was kind of adorable.

Spencer's hand is warm, a little sweaty against your palm. But his grip is tight and reassuring as the two of you walk the rest of the way out of the house.

As soon as the front door opens a brisk wind hits you, nipping at your exposed flesh. Goosebumps already dot up and down your skin, the only warmth you feel is Spencer's hand wrapped around yours, and you knew that warm sensation would end as soon as his hand got cold too.

With a little hesitance, you step outside to brave the cold. Your heels click as you carefully make your way down the concrete steps in front of the house. You stare down at your feat as you make each movement, fearing accidentally rolling your ankle or falling. You'd probably take end up Spencer down with you.

"Hmm," Spencer hums, noticing your trepidation, "Here," Spencer untwines his hand from yours and places an arm around your back, reaching to your other side, but barely touches your other arm, just holds firm enough for you not to fall.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, thankful for Spencer's help,

"You don't have to hold me so far away you know, you can pull me a little closer." You turn your head to look at him, "I mean it is kind of chilly out."

"Oh-uh," Spencer's arm pulls to hold you just a little bit closer, "Better?" His grip is still pretty weak around you, and you sigh.

"You know, Spence, I'm still pretty cold." You frown, staring down the suit jacket he was wearing.

"Do you want to go back inside? I didn't even have a full beer the entire time I was there- I can go get my car real quick and drive you home if you want. It's only a block or so away." Spencer responds, his voice quick, and nervous- it was obvious he was eager to solve the problem of you being so cold.

"No," You laugh, shaking your head, "I'm cold is kind of girl-code for, you should give me your jacket."

"Oh!" Spencer laughs, "Oh- I'm sorry, yeah- here, here have it." Spencer speaks earnestly as he slips the jacket off of his shoulders. He shivers as the loss of the fabric leaves him in only a thin button up and you can't help but feel a little bad for asking him to give it to you. But he hands you the jacket with a smile on his face, which lingers even after you put it on. It provides a marginal amount more of warmth than what you felt prior.

"Better?" Spencer asks.

"Mhm," You nod, "Thank you."

Spencer only gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod in response.

"So," Spencer starts as the two of you begin walking, his hand slipping into yours almost instinctually, it catches you a little off guard, and you feel your cheeks run hot at the gesture. "Where are you headed?"

"Oh- uh, back to Boston I guess," You squint your eyes, thinking, "I usually take the bus, the stop is up that way." You point up ahead in front of you.

"Let me go with you," Spencer says quickly, "I mean- not to your place, but let me ride the bus with you, I don't want you going by yourself."

"Why not? I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." You retort, trying to hide the fact that secretly, butterflies are growing in your stomach at his eagerness to take care of you.

"I just want to make sure you get home okay." His hand grips yours tighter.

"Okay," A small smile draws at your lips, you don't want to fight him on it anymore, truth was you'd love nothing more than to spend a little bit more time with him, even if it was a short bus ride.

The streets of the city are utterly dead, not a sound to be heard except the whistling of the wind and collision of your high heels and the pavement. You wonder what time it even is, how long had you even spent at that stupid party?

The bus is just as empty as the rest of the city. When it arrives, nobody but you and Spencer are on, the two of you sitting patiently under the bright fluorescent lights for the bus to move. The lights are straining on your eyes, and the horrendously carpet-patterned seats might hurt your eyes even worse.

"What stop do you get off at?" Spencer asks, being the one sitting the closest to the button to let the driver know when it's your stop.

"University Drive."

The lights dim as the bus driver pulls away from the stop you'd been picked up at, and you're able to relax your eyes once more. You let your eyes relax until all of a sudden they're closed and then-

"Hey," You feel your head being jerked, "We're here."

"Hmm?" You grumble, slowly opening your eyes.

Your stomach drops, and you're absolutely mortified to see your head is rested on Spencer's shoulder. You whip your head off from where it laid and quickly stand up from the seat.

The bus ride was fifteen minutes, you couldn't believe you fell asleep. Much less fell asleep on some guy you barely knew. You're a mess of worry as you exit the bus, thinking about how awkward you probably made Spencer feel. You're so caught up in your thoughts you barely notice how cold it is as you step outside.

"Hey, look, I'm right over there." You say, pointing to the large dorm building behind you.

"I'll walk you to the door." He smiles, and your panic immediately slides away.

You walk with your head down, looking intently at the sidewalk under you as you head forward to your building, trying your best to keep in a straight line. You had to admit, you were pretty upset your time with Spencer would be ending in just a few short minutes from now. You tried to scheme up a plan to get Spencer to stay longer, but no ideas would stick to your brain. You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest as you approach the front door.

You whip around to look at Spencer who's trailing just a few inches behind you.

"Well," You sigh, "I guess this is it." You pull your mouth to one side in a small pout.

"Yeah- I-uh, I guess so," He shrugs, "I had a nice time tonight, thanks for, making my first party experience a lot better than i was expecting." Spencer's hands are shoved into his pocket, and he rocks back and forth while he talks, unsure of himself as his eyes dart all around you.

"Of course," You grin, letting your hands drop down at your sides, "Say," You cut yourself off, and shove your hands into the pocket of Spencer's coat, fishing, until you find what you were hoping for. You pull out a pen from one of the coat pockets, and grab Spencer's hand. "I want to see you again before you become some big tough FBI agent." You smile, scrawling the digits of your phone number on the back of his hand. "Call me sometime?" You hold his hand up for an extra moment, before letting it drop back down.

"Mmmhm, yeah," Spencer bobs his head up and down vigorously.

"Okay, good. Goodnight Spencer," You smile, giving him a small wave.

"Goodnight y/n" He smiles back, as the two of you turn around to go your separate ways.

You notice as you turn back around that you're still wearing Spencer's jacket, part of you has the urge to call out to him to give it back, the other part of you wants to keep it- if he wants to get it back, he'll have to come see you again.

"Wait! Y/n!" You hear Spencer from just behind you. You frown a little, thinking your plan to keep Spencer's jacket had been foiled and he was calling to get it back from you.

"Yeah?" You whip your head back around.

"Did you mean it when you said to let you know if I wanted to have my first kiss- and that you'd change that I've never um-"

"Uhh..huh," You responded, a little to eager as an uncontrollable smile began to tug at the ends of your lips, "Are you asking me to kiss you Spencer?"

"Maybe," His voice breaks, unable to look you directly in the eyes.

You raise one eyebrow, "Maybe?"

"Ahem. Uh- I mean- yes."

Before you know it, you're tugging at his tie, pulling him close to you. Your lips are on his, just a peck at first, Spencer is hesitant. He is unsure of what to do with any part of his body, his lips move carefully, his hands unsure of just where they should be, they rest on your hips- before they move right under your shoulders. You make the decision to tilt your head and deepen the kiss. Spencer's lips are soft with inexperience, he has absolutely no clue what he's doing, yet you can't get enough.

The two of you pull away slowly, neither one of you wanting to give up the kiss- but you eventually have to surrender to the night and to the cold. You place one final peck on Spencer's lips.

"Now you have to call me." You giggle, unable to hide your excitement.

"Yeah-yeah," Spencer nods, eyes wide, his lips are shiny and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. "Absolutely."

"Goodnight Spencer." You say once more, before turning around to head inside.

A/N: whew! when I tell you I spent all day writing this i mean all day! that's okay though... im obsessed with grad school! reid. anyways..... thinking about making a (potentially smutty) part two to this ;-)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x f! reader

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odyssiaca · 2 days

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odysseus is generally seen as 'morally ambiguous' due to his not always being seen as the best of people- but this is a very modern and feminist take, and whilst nothing is inherently wrong with the idea of feminist takes and retellings, it skews what we have and already know of the myths, and this can be seen most predominantly in the character of odysseus. odysseus is two things:

- not meant to a hero

- not meant to be good

he is written as a man faced with impossible odds, and who loses some- if not all- of his morality in doing so. BUT where does the idea of him being 'bad' come from? the penelopiad by margaret atwood, a woman known for being quite vitriolic towards men of any kind. in recent years, people have picked up on three major things from the odyssey:

- the hanging of the maids

- odysseus cheating on his wife

- odysseus going mad at the end

NOW, to break it into points:

the hanging of the maids is so often seen in a feminist light due to margaret atwood, where odysseus is painted as some cruel, vile, disgusting predator who loathes women. this isn't true to the odyssey AT ALL. in the odyssey it is explicitly stated by the nurse that raised telemachus: 'i shall single out those who betrayed you, my lord' and by one of the maids herself- melantho: 'if we sleep with the suitors, when they become king we will be in favour with him.' and THIS is why he killed the maids. not because he was insane, not because he was bad, but because they had betrayed not just him- but his wife. not all the maids were killed, only those who slept with the suitors. the argument most often used for this is that the women couldn't say no, but this goes against what the maids themselves say in the odyssey when they believe no one to be watching.

odysseus cheating on his wife HE DIDN'T. but he is a man, and as a man, he cannot be raped. he is a terrible man for sleeping with circe and calypso when he could have- as epic decides to say- say no. which is untrue!! these are goddesses. titanesses. circe is the daughter of helios, and calypso is daughter of atlas. they could overpower him simply by looking at him. circe turned his men to pigs, even with the moly she could have easily done the same- or worse- to him. the idea of him choosing to and being unfaithful stems from madeline miller's, Circe which whilst not inherently bad, goes out of its way to put all men in a terrible light, because the heroes deserves no rights in feminist retellings. odysseus wanted to say no, but could not as hermes explicitly told him he couldn't. on the flip side, calypso threatens, ensnares him and only releases him when told to by hermes and the council of the gods. in the odyssey it is literally stated: 'and odysseus stayed on the shores weeping for home before joining the nymph in her bed.' he did not WANT to sleep with calypso, but was left with no other choice but to do so. this is a recurring theme for calypso.

but he is blamed due to his gender, and the idea of 'feminism' and 'patriarchy'.

and now, the real reason for odysseus being seen badly:

the telegony the telegony is a myth written after the odyssey with telegonus- son of circe and odysseus- as the main character. in this he travels to find his father and meet him, but accidentally kills him on the shore. (peneleope marries telegonus, and circe marries telemachus) but this is where the idea of odysseus' insanity comes from. in the telegony, it is stated he went mad after the war, and couldn't survive without bloodshed, and so he went out seeking war, and women, and battle, and went mad in this.

the statement: 'generous to odysseus' is wholly unfair, because he is a man forced to lose everything, assaulted, violated, tortured and imprisoned with no hope of survival. he goes to war knowing he won't return for 20 years, won't see his wife, and won't watch his son grow. he is a man not a god, or a demigod. he's just some dude doing his best.

#greek mythology #tagamemnon #odysseus #the odyssey #the iliad #diomedes #homer #odypen #calypso #circe #mythos

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dee-morris · 2 days

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Some Random Thoughts on the Nature of Free Will

Thinking about that conversation from the book that got put into The Resurrectionists. Aziraphale is explaining how he and Crowley are good and wicked, respectively, but they have no choice while Elspeth does. Bc humans can't be truly good unless they have the choice to be wicked.

(This is where I usually end up arguing with someone on Twitter lol bc they think Aziraphale is being Mean to Crowley by calling him wicked. It's just a brand name darling, not a judgment call. He literally said in the same breath that he's not TRULY wicked bc he wasn't given a choice.)

So I'm sitting here thinking about free will and the choices the celestials are given, which are not many. And I wonder if one of the reasons they were drawn to the Arrangement was to give them each the choices that humans were born with. One can't be truly good without the opportunity to do wrong, so perhaps being able to work both sides of the equation helped them develop into truly moral beings and not just extensions of their offices. We see in Uz how they're able to work together and bounce off each other to save Job's family, even though the Arrangement didn't properly exist yet.

I've also seen lots of takes and metas that indicate that people view Heaven and Hell as a class system: Heaven is the upper-class privileged majority, while Hell is oppressed, kicked out, downtrodden. I think people forget that the primary difference between the two is aesthetic. Hell has all the same powers as Heaven, and they both intend to burn humanity to the ground in order to prove their gang is best.

No, if we're going to talk about who's got privilege, it's definitely humanity over heaven or hell. We have free will and imagination, which are more miraculous than anything. Sure they've got all these powers and can work miracles and so on, but where's that gotten them? We can actually change things. All they can do is try and influence us to change things, and their success rate isn't high. Two of the most powerful beings in the universe couldn't convince an eleven year old boy to blow things up. That's. Pathetic, actually.

Which brings me back around to the ineffables. Because they actually DO have free will, but I don't think they're used to realizing that they do, which might be why they act a little bone headed sometimes. The show implies and the book comes right out and says that they picked it up from being around humans. And like I said earlier, I think the Arrangement played a big part. They were actually able to choose to do good or evil, a luxury that normally only humans can enjoy.

And the best part of this, for me anyway, is knowing that everything that they are to each other is a conscious choice. Aziraphale didn't want to be a fighter, so he gave his sword away and made the conscious choice to be soft and silly and get into scrapes. And Crowley chooses to come to his rescue because he likes it, not because he is obligated. It's a way for him to choose to do good without getting in trouble. They are each other's outlet to explore humanity in a way that would be impossible if they were on their own.

Aziraphale speaks French badly and flutters his eyelashes and plans elaborate Balls because he loves doing human things and he wants to do them with Crowley. Crowley drives a sleek classic sex machine with bullet hole stickers on the windows and goes on capers and performs daring moves because he loves doing things the human way and he wants to do them with Aziraphale. The way they interact and work together because they WANT to, and not because it's their Great Bloody Destiny or whatever, is so fucking beautiful to me.

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale my beloved #good omens meta #crowley good omens #free will #heaven and hell

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yanderes-galore · 2 days

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i love the way you write yandere mettaton and yandere mettaton fans have been starved for new writings (maybe idk) may i request yandere-daze prompts 8, 11, and maybe 2? i feel like it makes sense idk potential plot: after showing you off to the world as mettaton usually does, a fan gets a lil too close for comfort (could be a friend or a random monster/human) and mettaton has no choice BUT to take action, and poor darling takes it harshly, before eventually getting dragged off somewhere else where mettaton an darling can have a moment of peace. ofc, not without a fight. ya you can use the plot if you want or go nuts, i'll be happy either way /pos

I can try, sure :) Hope I get the vibe of clingy Mettaton right.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Mettaton Prompts 8, 11, 2

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

"You think I’m a monster? You’re the one that made me like this!”

“Please pay attention to me!”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Isolation, Controlling behavior, Implied abuse of power, Heavily manipulative behavior, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship implied.

Ever since monsters returned to the surface, Mettaton has been putting on shows for monsters and humans alike. Of course, he hasn't done it alone. He has you, his beloved co-star, right by his side on every performance.

Many knew you two as a duo, be it on talk shows or concerts. You two were closely linked and had fans of all sorts. There was just one rule when it came to you.

Don't touch.

Mettaton took such a rule seriously. Others could look, talk, and admire you. However... only Mettaton could hold you. This was a rule Mettaton often enforced during shows.

You can look... but you can't touch.

Mettaton adored you during the performances you both shared. He's easily jealous, sure, but in the end he knows you belong to him. At least... he thought that.

Mettaton's eye nearly twitched when he saw you speaking with a fan. His glowing eyes stare as you smile and laugh with them. He tells himself you're just being polite.

Anything for the fans, right?

Perhaps you know them! Yes, they must just be a friend.... He can allow friends, can't he? Why is he still so irritated?

Then he sees you hug them....

No. Touching.

"Sorry, Darlings!" The robot coos, stepping over to you and scooping you against his waist. "Me and my little co-star have to go! It was wonderful to see you!"

It's then Mettaton escorts you away from the large crowd. He keeps you close to him, metallic hands gripping you tightly. You struggle to keep up with him, the star not answering until he pulls you into the dressing room.

"Darling..." Mettaton coos, glowing eyes glaring down at you. "What was THAT?"

"I was greeting someone I knew? They were congratulating me for becoming famous!" You shoot back, Mettaton grimacing in response.

"Whatever happened to our rule? No one touches you but me! No exceptions." Mettaton huffs, the sound coming out like air from a vent. "After all, then everyone would ask to touch you... and I hate sharing."

"You're getting angry over nothing." You try to reason, but Mettaton refuses to listen.

"Nothing? Then surely it shouldn't be hard to cut that person off, no?" Mettaton seethes. "Surely you can do that for me?"

"You don't get to control me because we work with each other." You frown, Mettaton's eyes twitching in irritation. "They're a friend!"

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Darling!” Mettaton sighs, strolling over to you. "Cut them off... or I'll do it for you."

"What is wrong with you!?" You fight back. "I thought you were just protective... but this is something else entirely."

"What's wrong, Darling?" Mettaton hums, seeing you back away from him. "Scared of me?"

You wouldn't want to admit it, but in this moment you agree. You are scared of him. You're scared of him because he's not usually this... Jealous? Possessive?

"You think I’m a monster?" Mettaton chuckles, eyes never leaving yours as he corners you near a wall. His gaze turns a dull pink before he leans closer. "You’re the one that made me like this!”

Mettaton watches you as you shudder. You stare up at him with fear in your eyes. The sight makes Mettaton hesitate... but he can't deny the fact he feels excited.

"Now, don't look away from me..." Mettaton whispers, watching you try to avoid eye contact once he leans in. "You know I want your attention more than anything else, right?"

Mettaton frowns when he watches you shake. His metal fingers caress your face softly. It's an attempt to comfort you... yet also to steal back your attention.

"Aww, baby, I'm sorry..." Mettaton hums, "You just make me so jealous sometimes... Please pay attention to me, Darling!”

You try your best to reason, but it seems you can't with the delusional robot. Before anything else happens, thankfully, you're interrupted. The door knocks and Mettaton shoots up in shock.

"Y-You two okay in t-there?" Alphys calls through the door. You sigh in relief as Mettaton looks upset he was interrupted. With an irritated noise, Mettaton answers.

"Of course, dear! We'll be out now~!" Mettaton answers in a cheery tone, dragging you once again to follow him outside.

You're lucky you were interrupted when you were...

Who knows what he had planned if Alphys wasn't worried.

#yandere undertale #yandere mettaton #yandere mettaton ex

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stagefoureddiediaz · 3 days

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if the song buddie sing at karaoke is you're my best friend from queen i will kiss the writers in the mouth because these morons would think it's about just being best friends when it actuality it's a love letter john deacon dedicated to his wife, his best friend, the love of his life.

Hey nonnie’s three!!

I love that song , it’s a fabulous song and it really is a great buddie song.

That being said - in my opinion it’s not the one the show would choose to go with for this, for a number of reasons. I genuinely don’t think they’d go that obvious in relation to buddie for this moment - because that’s what they’d be saying g with this song choice and I personally think it’s going to be more of a song hinting at figuring out your queer rather than in love with you best friend - we’ve not got to that point yet.

Secondly I don’t think the tempo of your my best friend fits with the vibe they seem to be going for with this bachelor party - it’s too slow and on one level for karaoke when they’ve gone all out on drunkenness and lights etc.

And thirdly - it’s a really hard song to sing - it’s in a slightly weird key which makes it difficult to sing, plus the lack of modulation in it also makes it harder to perform (unless you’re Freddie mercury who could do incredible things with his voice) And based on Oliver’s comments about it being a song within his range, I don’t feel like ymbf can be the right song

So yeah, while it’s the perfect buddie song I just don’t feel like it’s the right song for this moment. But if I’m wrong please feel free to come back and say I told you so after 7x06 has aired 😎💜💜💜

#kym answers things #three Nonnie asks #911 spoilers #buddie karaoke #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #buddie

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kateis-cakeis · 1 day

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You know, something something Arthur desperately wanted to see the good in magic at any opportunity he was given.

When Gwen was first accused, when he first met Morgause, when he wanted to save Uther using magic, when he saved the woman from being burnt in that small village, when he was given a choice by the Disir, when he was determined to save Gwen from Morgana's dark magic...

(Honourable mentions include when he saved Mordred and argued with Uther about the Druids being peaceful (they are magic adjacent after all) - and well, given the second honourable mention being his remorse for the raid on the Druid camp when he was young, it's understandable that it comes from some sort of trauma. And of course, the result of that remorse was the promise that he would do everything to prevent it ever happening again, and that he would treat the Druids with respect. Hell, even with Kara he was respectful, even though she committed actual literal treason in the form of an attempted assassination of Camelot's king)

Of course, at every opportunity, Arthur's view that there is good in magic, that not all sorcerers are evil, that perhaps his father was wrong, or that his father had lied, ends up being proven wrong, at least in his eyes.

Time and time again Arthur is shown to consider magic as a more neutral force, like almost as if he's desperate for it to be true. It isn't even necessarily his fault that the opinions about magic and sorcerers that Uther taught him becomes reinforced once again.

The fact that he can even think critically about magic at all is a miracle alone. Like this man who has only ever known sorcerers to use magic for evil purposes, to destroy Camelot, attempt to assassinate him, attempt to assassinate his father, to harm those he cares about - and yet he still he still falls back on, what if magic can be good, what if we're wrong, what if, what if, what if--

And it's only when magic itself reveals himself to Arthur that he can finally see that yes, magic can be good.

Because if Merlin is good, if Merlin is the same person even with magic, then magic is neutral, and sorcerers aren't inherently evil.

Arthur was always going to accept magic, that's the thing, that's hardcoded into his character, he just needed the right push, and that push was always going to be Merlin.

Because as Arthur dies in Merlin's arms, blanketed by magic itself, he accepts that even with all of Merlin's magic, his life cannot be saved, magic cannot save him.

But he accepts it, and accepts Merlin, and he dies having brought about all that Merlin ever dreamt of, truly dreamt of, that Arthur would see him for him, and accept him and his magic. And more than that, what Arthur truly ends up doing is embracing it.

Arthur for whatever reason, perhaps because he was born of magic, perhaps because his soulmate is magic itself, perhaps because he has a heart of gold, wanted to see the good in magic at any given opportunity that presented itself, even though with all that Uther taught him, he never should have seen it that way.

It's just, it's so fascinating, and it's so heartbreaking that when he finally knew, he died. But he'll return, and I'm sure then he can build something better with Merlin, really bring magic back to a time that needs it :)

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #i tried so hard to make this into a short post #but essay mode activated and i tried to stop it i swear :P #i try not to make every post about Arthur a straight up character study but i fail every time #just be glad this post is this short #i had to stop myself about halfway through from going to far into analysis mode #anyway i was thinking about writing this while trying to sleep last night #and i just had to get it down i love Arthur so much and i feel like he deserves more credit for thinking so critically despite there being #no evidence or reason for him to ever do that with magic #i love him the man fascinates me #and I really just wanna wrap him in a blanket - especially as like idk once he returns and finally gets to process all that he did #believing in his father's lies

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maggeemoo · 2 days

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Tarnished Mirror; Ch. 1

-[CW: Brief mentions of Suicide]-

“I was expecting you’d be here soon enough.” Neo stood still as she stared up at the Blacksmith, starting to rethink her quick decision to jump into the colorful leaves of the Tree. “Hm? Oh, I see. You don’t quite know what to do here, do you?” Neo shook her head, a tiny bit of tension draining from her as the Blacksmith’s voice began to calm her. Her thoughts raced with the last few things she saw outside. The others saving her by using the smoke of the leaves, the cat screaming as she snuffed its life, the others nothing more than thankful that Ruby was still herself. Just thinking about Ruby was met with a pang of guilt, with how she forced her to practically commit suicide, and when her desire was filled, nothing but emptiness was what she felt. “You seem… sorry. You only wanted vengeance–no, closure–and you got it. There have been others that came here for the same reasons. But that doesn’t matter anymore. Now you have a choice to make, a choice that is yours and yours alone.”

As the Blacksmith spoke, a wide array of weapons rose from the ground. Some familiar and some not, some too heavy to even think about and some so light they could float. But there were two weapons whose weight and quality couldn’t be described: one, a parasol with an impossibly sharp blade inside.

The other, a pair of weapons. A sharp shield with scooped indents on either side, and a weapon capable of swapping between a Javelin, Sword, and Rifle. Though Neo’s eyes briefly lingered on the all-too-familiar parasol, the other pair grabbed her gaze as the Blacksmith continued.

“Your choice is who you want to be. No matter what that choice is, as soon as you make it you will be the person who wielded that weapon. It seems you’ve already left yourself behind once, but you are still you. Should you choose, that will no longer be the case.”

Neo couldn’t help but approach the case with the paired weapons inside, still glancing back at the parasol. With every glance, though, it felt heavier. She had held that same weapon for so long and she knew that it was her perfect weapon, so why did it feel so wrong now? Why did these bronze weapons seem so much more fitting?

“Those weapons are as good a choice as any. Do know that every weapon has its weight, that every person who wields a weapon has burdens. While picking up their weapon may release you of your troubles, you will be shouldering theirs.”

Pressing her hand to the case of the weapons, Neo felt an inherent rightness. Like a river finally reaching an ocean, an immaculate completeness. She could feel tears start to well up as the Blacksmith somehow perfectly put her messy thoughts into words.

“You’ve taken so much, so you think it’s time you gave back instead? If that is your choice, then very well.”

Neo closed her eyes as she noticed all the other weapons sinking away, giving a final glance to the parasol before feeling her new weapons in her hands. She feels her body suddenly change, and the last thing she sees is a gateway into a jungle in the Ever After as her memories slowly fade. As she steps through, the Blacksmith speaks again. “Just as I have done for the others, you will be brought to when you are needed most. Though it is not my part to influence your fate, I wish you the best of luck, Pyrrha Nikos.”

================================================

Just as the Gateway closes, Pyrrha realizes she has no idea where she is. She thinks out loud, and though her voice comes easily it feels odd in her mouth. Every word feels strange to say, like it was the first time she was speaking at all.

“Where am I? Wasn’t I just… What’s happening?”

Pyrrha tries and tries to remember anything, but all she sees in her memory is the impact of the Wyvern Grimm against the tower where she was fighting. Everything feels fuzzy like she was looking through stained glass and hearing with ear muffs on.

“I must’ve gotten injured… But nothing hurts at all. Maybe a dream thanks to hitting my head? No, everything feels too… real, too coherent…”

All Pyrrha can think to do is look around. Trees all around, a thick canopy shading her from too much light, and herself with her weapons. She starts to pat all over her body in search of any injuries or abnormalities and finds nothing. Nothing save for a lock of her hair, a chocolate brown instead of the usual red. She pulls and brushes at the brown, assuming that it’s dirt or mud stuck into her, but nothing comes out. As her motions get more manic her thoughts do as well, her mind drifting to her friends.

“Calm down, calm down. Something happened, I just have to figure out what exactly. The last thing I remember is getting knocked back by that impact, so I must’ve hit my head hard enough to lose whatever happened next. I can’t be far from Beacon, if I get somewhere high up I could look around and find my way.”

Now with a concrete goal, Pyrrha let go of her hair and glanced around. Upon spotting the Tree through a gap in the canopy, she quickly heads straight towards it. But then she realizes that the vine she just passed looks familiar, and that vine too. And didn’t she just walk past that rock? Something is wrong. So Pyrrha sat still for a moment, confused. To test her growing suspicions, she tore a vine from a nearby tree and wrapped it around the branch of one ahead of her. She tied it snugly and then kept moving forward. As she emerged from the thick bushes she saw that same tied vine. Pyrrha balanced her spear on her forearm and used her semblance to magnetize it, now seeing that the direction she was trying to go was north.

“North isn’t an option, okay. How about south- okay, I guess that’s north too.” Pyrrha says as she turns around, seeing that her spear-turned-compass thinks that north is all around her.

Now just using the faraway Tree as a landmark, she turns and finds that her path isn’t infinitely looping anymore. As to why, she doesn’t know, but thankfully she finds a site of interest soon after to distract her. A small clearing with one strange tree in the center. She reaches for the strange, clock-like fruits but notices on the opposite side of the tree lies one of the fruits on the ground, clearly dented and smashed. From the damage to the fruit, it looks like it was frantically smashed in, and clearly, this was quite a long time ago as its metal parts are rusted so badly that just picking it up nearly breaks it in half.

“I couldn’t even hope to guess what this thing does if it was working, but I don’t think I want to find out. Someone must have found out and broken it, and it looks like it took a few hits to do it.”

Pyrrha glances around after she sets the strange fruit down, not seeing much. She does spot a lightly trodden path though, and as she nears the end, she finds a small camp that looks recently visited, but currently unoccupied. She keeps a good eye out, but goes ahead and scouts the small camp.

“Small tent, campfire, and… Perfect, a map of the area. Apologies to whoever is living here, but I’ll be sure to thank you later.” Pyrrha thought out loud as she also found a small pouch with some jerky in it, quickly stashing it away for when she inevitably got hungry. As she looked around for anything else of use, she saw a small note written in scrawling, frantic writing that has a sort of… familiar twinge to it. DON’T FORGET:

-Clock fruits: Harvest by cutting the vine instead of plucking, Jinxy wanted one in exchange for another year or two. Done, but go barter since Jinxy lied and only gave a month

-Check the Monster’s Grave, make sure he didn’t come back again

-Wait, make sure none of the Monster’s victims fall for the clock fruits like he did

-If the Monster comes back then don’t fight, reminding him of what he did to Penny works faster

“...Penny? What the… This has to be a different Penny, right…?” Is all that Pyrrha can say, her thoughts again being said aloud. She looks over the note again and on the back sees more manic words, but written in handwriting that she finally recognizes. The Monster isn’t back he just never left I am the Monster please please please Penny I’m sorry please someone anyone help me kill me

Despite the agitated writing, Pyrrha recognizes the handwriting nearly instantly, the shorter note on the back being clearer than the scrawled front. “Jaune…?”

================================================

(That's the end of Chapter One, everything past this is just me the author rambling~ And here's a link to Chapter Two!)

Hello everyone! I doubt that anyone really knows me, I don't post much but I wrote this quite a while ago and recently touched it up a little and finished what I think is a good "Chapter" of sorts! I think it could be shorter or longer, but after months of on-and-off writing I finally got to a point where I think it works well enough on its own, which is something I strive for with writing since there are a lot of times I condemn a WIP to the shadow realm known as "Write later."

Anyways I'd just like to thank one person in particular, @pilot-boi for at least somewhat entertaining an idea I had a few months back. Had it not been for you saying that you like the idea even a little, this short work may have never existed and would have never been posted, so thank you so so so so so much. I've written a lot of things that just kinda came out of nowhere that not a lot of people have found interesting so I never bothered to post them anywhere, but the tiny bit of encouragement that you gave me was a spark. I can only hope that spark stays lit long enough for me to write this AU out fully, and maybe for me to give the series an ending that I think it needs.

Thanks everyone for reading, and have a wonderful day/morning/night~ Toodles!

#mirror man au #tarnished spartan #Tarnished Mirror AU #rwby au #rwby #writing #fiction #fanfic #save rwby

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starlight-bread-blog · 2 days

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My Interpetation of The Southern Raiders: Part 2 – Zuko

Warning: The views expressed in this analysis will be somewhat uncritical of Zuko. If you aren't likely to agree, you aren't going to enjoy this post. This is your chance to leave. I probably won't have a debate for personal reasons.

——————

This is the second part out of a three part series trying to answer every question posed by the discourse on The Southern Raiders. If I take some things for granted, it's because I discussed them in part 1, in which I delve into A\ang's role in the episode. Today, I'll set my sights on Zuko.

——————

1. Was Zuko a negative influence on Katara?

No, he did not. When Zuko merely presents the possibility of tracking her mother’s killer, it cuts through her reply right to her already leaving. In literature, what isn’t in the text holds no relevance and is to be disregarded as mere speculation. We don’t see Zuko convincing her, therefore he had no influence on her, and that she made the choices she did because she wanted to.

All Zuko did later on was defend a decision Katara already made on her own. And in both the first and second disagreements with Aang she had the last word. Ergo she was making her own choice.

Additionally, before they enter the room of who they think was her mother’s killer, Zuko asks her if she’s ready. And when she finally spares Yon Rha, he supports her decision. If he were to influence her, he wouldn’t have done either of these things. He only wanted to help Katara heal and never brought up anything that wasn’t already there.

——————

2. Was Zuko being too harsh on Aang?

(1) That's cute, but this isn't air temple preschool. It's the real world.

(2) [Forgiveness]'s the same as doing nothing!

(3) Okay, we'll be sure to do that, guru goody-goody.

He was definitely disrespectful towards Aang's culture, although his disrespectful remarks are a response to Aang’s own disrespect, imposing his beliefs onto Katara. And he didn’t say that until after Aang compared Katara to Jet. It was still wrong to come after the Air Nomad teachings, but they’re not as insulting as people paint them to be.

And it’s not like he didn’t take them back by the end of the episode. Zuko had good intentions, made a mistake and learned from it. That’s how characters grow, through mistakes. (More on that later).

——————

3. What motivated Zuko to find Yon Rah?

He wanted to earn Katara’s trust. The show makes it explicitly clear.

Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you?

And so later:

Zuko: Katara mentioned it before when we were imprisoned together in Ba Sing Se, and again just now when she was yelling at me. I think somehow she's connected her anger at that to her anger at me.

I’ve seen many describe this motive as selfish or manipulative, but I have to disagree. He has no reason to do anything to earn Katara’s trust. He saved her life on that very day, is fully accepted into the GAang, and in this episode he found out that some of her anger at him is rooted in projection. But he still goes out of his way to do the impossible, to give Katara the closure she needs in order to put faith in him.

——————

4. Why did Zuko think revenge\murder would help Katara?

Katara is a kind soul and murder wouldn’t have helped her heal, but Zuko had good reasons to think it would have. He didn’t know Katara’s soul, she didn’t even consider him a colleague, at that point she hated him. However, he did see Sokka killing Combustion Man in The Western Air Temple. So he has no way of knowing whether revenge would help, but he’s under the impression that murder isn’t a big taboo at least for some of the GAang.

Moreover, he knows that the person who took his mother away from him will receive justice, and that it helps him sleep at night. Katara doesn’t have that, Yon Rha retired in peace. So he offers her the justice he knows helps him.

But the main reason why he thinks revenge would help Katara, is that she told him it will. Zuko plays a largely passive role in the episode, simply assisting Katara in whatever way he can.He’s only fulfilling Katara’s wishes, and she told him that her wish is to seek justice on “the monster”.

——————

5. Did the trip have an effect on Zuko?

It did. By the end of the episode, Zuko delivers the following line:

This is an important part of his arc of unlearning the Fire Nation’s black and white philosophy that values aggression above all else. He comes around to Air Nomad pacifism and non violent solutions from seeing them work first hand. And as the good (redeemed) person that he is, he admits he was wrong and changes his views. He grew as a character to become a better version of himself.

——————

In conclusion, despite the somewhat questionable nature of Zuko's actions in "The Southern Raiders", his underlying good intentions shine through. His role was not a devil on Katara’s shoulder, but a natural force backing up whatever decision she makes. And this allows him to emerge with a valuable lesson learned.

#can't believe i wrote this so fast #wow #zutara #zuko x katara #anti kataang #katara x zuko #zukoxkatara #kataraxzuko #pro zutara #pro zuko #zuko #anti anti zutara #zutara analysis #zutara evidence #zutara forever #zutara meta #zutara nation #zutara should have been canon #zutara was robbed

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shakingparadigm · 3 days

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idk if your still busy so obviously finish what your doing before doing anything else but do you know how hyuna's prosthetic latches together?? I think theres like a knee-latch on her prosthetic that's a bit father down than her other leg but theres so much going of its hard to tell whats going in that area

Honestly I'm not sure how the mechanics of it would work, especially since there's got to be some weird alien technology or structure at play there. It's pretty different from what a prosthetic leg is like in real life, so it's tricky to make assumptions based on that, too.

There's some stuff I noticed about Hyuna's leg across the various official arts, though. Mostly the fact that it's inconsistent, and I kind of see a reason for it. Please forgive me as I go on a bit of a ramble.

In her original performance outfit the prosthetic is structured almost like it's just a normal leg molded out of metal. It's a lot more solid and is dark in color, almost black. It also seems as if it goes up to just her knee? Maybe it still goes up to her thigh and she just ripped her pants until the knee for better/unobstructed joint movement. It joins at the ball of her knee and seems to be composed of quite a few different parts, somewhat complicated.

In All-In, Hyuna's prosthetic is still mostly of average leg shape. The most notable difference is that the leg includes hollow spaces, most likely thinner parts assembled together as opposed to one solid leg. It's also a different, lighter color. We can infer from this image that her leg is until her upper thigh.

And then we have the latest one. Hyuna's leg in All-In seems to be until her upper thigh, but this image makes it seem as if it goes much higher than that (although it's most likely an artistic choice. maybe I shouldn't look into it too much. I've learned my lesson 😭). But it's interesting how this leg is the most unique, solid and without hollow spaces, but considerably thinner, more simple.

There's also the fact that you mentioned, the latch being farther down in comparison to her actual knee. It's different from her previous prosthetic legs which seem to join at the knee exactly and are much more similar to that of normal leg anatomy. For this prosthetic, her leg doesn't actually latch at the knee, it latches just a bit below it. The prosthetic knee may look a little lower, but it's just the way she's angled, left leg facing left and right leg facing forward.

Maybe I'm overexplaining something that's already obvious/basic knowledge, my bad. Also I'm no scientist, so I could be wrong.

Anyway, the fact that Hyuna's leg changes quite a bit is interesting. It could be a design shift from the earlier production of ALNST to the finalized version, but I personally like to think that Hyuna's leg changes because she replaces it sometimes. Her lifestyle calls for a lot of action, and while her body can heal itself overtime, her prosthetic leg is prone to wearing and breaking apart.

This is how I see it (just a theory/maybe headcanon):

The leg she has in her performance outfit is one supplied to her by the aliens, which is why it looks much more sturdy, more like a true human leg. They're very advanced, so they'd know exactly how to make one that best suits her. Once Hyuna escapes to the rebellion, she doesn't have access to that kind of material anymore, nor does she know how replicate it. So instead she gets creative, taking scraps of metal and joining them together to make another leg, which is why it looks considerably lighter and less complicated. Whenever her leg breaks, she (or someone from the rebellion) creates a new leg from the material they can find, which is why her legs become progressively more simple and less conventionally "leg-like" . It's no problem to her though, and she's very proud of it.

#sorry it took me a while to get to this! I've been busy #also if there's any inaccuracies with how prosthetics work/wrong terms used for prosthetics pls let me know! i dont intend any disrespect!#alnst #alien stage #alien stage hyuna #alnst hyuna #asks

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sunsburns · 2 hours

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kiss of life (iii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

masterlist

summary: you have never doubted aphrodite when it comes to soulmates, she's the goddess of love, she knows what she's doing and you're getting pretty sick of people telling you she's made a mistake with your soulmate, specifically. you refuse to believe that she could be wrong, but luke castellan is making it really hard for you to have hope.

—or: you and luke are off on your quest you're totally not having second thoughts about choosing him, he's your soulmate after all... right?

word count: 3.2k

warnings: filler chapter (sorry gang), reader's pov, reader is lowkey unreliable and is hiding something, pre-tlt, luke's character is kinda inconsistent but whatever, angsty fight with luke and reader, low-key happy ending

a/n: everyone might've moved on but i'm still here 😔… gang i think i’m coming back to my active era (no one cheered) anyways there’s so much i wanna write for this series so enjoy this little filler!

You'd always been a fan of bad ideas, but choosing Luke Castellan as your companion for the duration of your quest had to be your worst one yet. You felt a pang of doubt, questioning your choice, especially after witnessing the outcome of his quest—a failure that seemed impossible to shake off from the whispers of other campers. A failure your siblings wouldn't let you forget.

"I was there when he came back. I know what happened," you muttered, frustration creeping into your voice as you stuffed clothes into your bag.

Your siblings meant the world to you. You cherished the bond you shared—the familial camaraderie that bound your cabin together. As the eldest, you revelled in guiding and nurturing them, relishing the role of guardian and friend within your cabin's close-knit circle. Yet, like any family, they can sometimes be suffocatingly overbearing.

Alexis, your brother, ever ready to smack a reality check, had been the first to warn you against choosing Luke Castellan, and now he spearheaded a group of your siblings, all urging you to reconsider with reason.

"But that's just it. You don't know. Not really. None of us do." Alexis told you, reclining against the shared vanity in your cabin. The absence of the younger kids, off with Chiron for a lesson on constellations, offered you some peace of mind, sparing them from witnessing the escalating intervention.

As Silena sifted through the clothes strewn across your bed, her soft humming filled the room, a stark contrast to the weighty silence that hung over the conversation. "No one but Chiron and Mr. D knows what happened on that quest. He refuses to talk about it." she mused.

"There's not a lot of glory in that." Alexis shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"He's been so weird and different since he returned," Silena added, "I remember he used to smile. It was such an attractive smile. And he used to talk... He barely ever talks anymore."

Alexis snorted, "That's called depression, Silena."

"It's just so sad." She frowned and sat on your bed, her gaze distant, "Pretty people don't deserve to be depressed."

"Amen to that."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at their melodramatic exchange, a fleeting smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you focused on folding another pair of pants.

"He still talks." You said.

"But it's not the same," Alexis countered, his expression grave. Deep down, you knew he was right.

"And the way he's treated you," Silena scoffed, "constantly icing you out..."

"Avoiding you for months..." Alexis added, stepping closer to you with a solemn expression. "Refusing to even talk to you."

When he tried to put his hand on your shoulder, you couldn't help but shrug it off, not wanting his sympathy.

Their reminders, well-intentioned though they may be, served only to deepen the wound already festering within you. Like a knife twisted in your back, the memories of Luke's avoidance and unanswered questions pierced your thoughts with relentless precision. You vividly recalled the disappointment etched across his face in the infirmary, a silent testament to his dismay upon discovering your role in his fate. The weight of his unspoken words hung heavily in the air, a haunting reminder of the rift that had formed between you before it even started.

Your siblings were very careful with their next words: "Do you think that maybe... just this once... Aphrodite got it wrong?"

With a heavy heart, you stormed out of the cabin, your mind reeling with conflicting emotions. You swore up and down to Alexis and Silena that you were fine, that you only needed air. The need for clarity drove you to seek solace in the quiet embrace of nature, the gentle flicker of a breeze offering a touch of comfort amidst the turmoil raging within.

Throughout your life, your unwavering loyalty to your mother, Aphrodite, and the Gods has been a source of solace and guidance. You found comfort in the subtle manifestations of them, from the celestial dance of stars to the gentle caress of sunlight filtering through the trees. Even in the casual interactions of everyday life, you sought traces of your mother's hand guiding your path.

As you gazed into the dancing flames, the remnants of fruit smouldering in their fiery embrace in a tin can, you found yourself caught between hope and despair during your offering for your mother. Silena's words echoed in your mind, a harsh truth you were reluctant to confront. Maybe you didn't have a soulmate. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe you're unlovable.

Yet, amidst the cloud of doubt, a flicker of defiance ignited within you. The mere thought that Aphrodite could be mistaken in matters of love seemed impossible to you. You had witnessed firsthand the intricate tapestry of fate woven by her hand, guiding souls to their destined counterparts with unfailing precision.

The yearning for that connection, that soul-deep bond, burned within you like a beacon in the darkness of uncertainty. It was a desire as old as time itself, the longing to find solace and belonging in the embrace of another.

As the flames dwindled to embers, their dying glow casting flickering shadows upon the ground, your prayers went unanswered.

The weight of your impending quest pressed upon you like a heavy cloak. Questions tumbled over one another in a relentless cascade, each one a dagger aimed at the heart of your resolve. Where would you need to go? Would you need to defend yourself? Would monsters come after you? Should you choose someone else? Could it be that Luke was nothing to you but a mistaken thread tethered into your life?

Your shoes stepped over twigs and dry leaves on the ground until you stepped out of the forest. Passing by the armoury, you forced a smile upon your lips. You forced yourself to be excited for your first quest rather than dread it. It was a rare privilege bestowed upon a child of Aphrodite, you should honour it.

As you approached the heart of camp again, the familiar clang of sword meeting dummy rumbled through the night air. The rhythmic sound, though commonplace in the realm of demigod training, carried an ominous weight under the cover of darkness. You would have assumed that all campers were asleep.

Luke Castellan, a boy who had become synonymous with the darker days since his return from his quest, stood amidst the training grounds, his silhouette illuminated by the pale moonlight. The sight of him, bathed in the ghostly shine, was haunting. With each precise strike of his sword, a muted testament to the rage that plagued his restless spirit, he seemed to exude an aura of both determination and despair.

No wonder you were so exhausted.

You dared not meet his gaze, instead keeping your head bowed as you navigated the familiar path through the training grounds. Every fibre of your being screamed for you to move faster, yet the pull of his presence was undeniable. Despite your best efforts to remain unseen, Luke's voice cut through the night, calling out your name with a sense of urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

Shit.

With a sinking heart, you felt his hand land on your shoulder, stopping your escape. You couldn't avoid him now. Turning to face him, you were met with a sight that mirrored the restlessness within your own soul. His features, etched with lines of weariness and frustration, betrayed the weight of the burdens he carried.

You were distracted by the way he was looking at you. Brows furrowed, his lips turned and pulled into that permanent frown that had you wondering if he had ever smiled since he came back. Yet, despite the weight of his solemn expression, there was a flicker of something in his eyes – a glint of warmth, of familiarity, that almost stirred a faint glimmer of hope within you.

Almost.

"You're making a mistake." He insisted. "You need to choose someone else for your quest."

You tried not to seem too disappointed. "I can't pick anyone else." You protested, and he raised his brows at you, doubtful. "The Oracle told me to choose you."

"She told you to-?" A scoff escaped him, "The Oracle doesn't tell you who to choose. She doesn't say anything about who you should bring-"

"Luke-"

"The Oracle tells you what your quest is, then a weird riddle about something that will happen on your quest that will put you on edge the entire time."

Luke had stepped closer to you as he spoke as if his words would've sunk into your head clearer if you could hear them better. He spoke to you a lot that way, hoping you'd cling to every word he had to say; good and bad. Mostly bad.

The Oracle's cryptic words lingered in your mind. She had not revealed much about your quest, offering no subtle hints or insights into Eros' whereabouts to make your life easier. Instead, her assurance that success hinged on bringing Luke Castellan along had left you grappling with uncertainty. "He has all the answers you seek," she had urged, her words echoing with a weight that you struggled to comprehend.

"It has to be you."

"What else did she say?"

You hesitated. "That's it," you replied, your words falling short.

"That's it?" He didn't believe you.

"Just a few hints of where Eros might be, I guess." The lie slipped from your lips effortlessly.

He caught it quickly but never urged you to admit it. Luke remained silent, his expression unreadable as he mulled over your words.

You sort of wished he fought you over it.

You wished he'd do anything with you. At least try to.

"If you don't want to come with me, that's fine," you conceded, "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, with or without you."

"Really? You'll just leave?"

The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable. Yet, despite the resentment that coloured his words, there was a flicker of something in his eyes – a glimmer of regret, perhaps, or maybe resignation. It only annoyed you further.

Luke Castellan was possibly the most confusing person you've ever met. He didn't want to join you on your quest, but you couldn't leave without him either? What's his fucking deal?

He intrigued and frustrated you, like some curse had been placed upon you, and you wanted to understand every part of him while he wanted nothing to do with you. Perhaps Aphrodite was being cruel when she chose him as your soulmate, but you weren't any better when you put him in the position of joining you on your quest.

"I don't know you." You admitted the words hanging heavy in the air between you. "You've made a really good effort to make sure that I don't know anything about you. I did my part. I picked you. If you don't want to come, that's... fine."

It pained you to say it. You did not want to go alone, but you weren't going to force someone to accompany you who clearly didn't want to be there. However, the uncertainty of what lay beyond the safety of the camp walls loomed large in your mind. You haven't left the protection of the camp in years, you weren't sure of what was out there other than the stories the summer campers would tell you, of their close calls and near misses.

Luke Castellan was the perfect example of what leaving camp does to someone.

Despite the weight of your decision, you held your head high as you turned on your heels. You doubted Luke had anything more to say; he was a man of few words, after all.

You left him there, just as he left you by the docks for months. And then you lied to yourself, clung to the belief that your mother, Aphrodite, would safeguard your journey and that your brother, Eros, awaited your rescue.

And so, the next morning, after bidding your tearful goodbyes to your siblings and friends and earning a proud pat on the back from Chiron, you swallowed your pride and left.

The Oracle's words were etched into the very fabric of your being, a relentless mantra that monopolized your thoughts as you trudged toward the top of the hill and left the safety of campgrounds. Each step forward was a testament to your determination, each footfall a declaration of your unwavering commitment to the quest ahead.

As you climbed, you couldn't help but imagine the faces of campers upon your return. You pictured the awe in their eyes, the pride in their voices, and most of all, the look on Luke's face when he realized the extent of your lone success, his disbelief mingling with a begrudging respect.

"Hey-"

The sound of your name startled you out of your thoughts. You were trudging through the grass when you spotted a body sitting under a pine tree, shaded from the sun by its leaves.

Luke looked up at you, frowning, "Took you long enough."

His dishevelled dark curls fell over his eyes, a stark contrast against the vibrant greenery surrounding him. With a resigned sigh, he rose to his feet, his movements fluid yet tinged with an air of impatience Luke picked up a bag by his side, tossing it over his shoulder. It wasn't until he emerged from the tree's shade that you noticed the subtle changes in his attire. Gone was the signature orange camp shirt, replaced instead by a more subdued navy tee that hugged his frame. His old cargo pants remained the same, but different nonetheless.

Eyeing his bag, you could spot smaller daggers strapped to the sides, prepared for anything. It took you a few seconds to process why he was there. You squint at the sun as he steps out from under the tree. "You came."

He huffed, "Obviously."

You let out a breathless chuckle, maybe one of relief since honestly, despite everything you'd been trying to convince yourself of, you were terrified to leave on your own.

"Why?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty as you adjusted the straps of your own bag. The question hung in the air, unanswered. Of course. You almost rolled your eyes as Luke began to descend the other side of the hill. With a fleeting glance over his shoulder, he wordlessly beckoned you to join him by tilting his head to the side impatiently.

You grinned then, wide and bright. "I know I said I didn't care if you came or not, but I'm glad you're here."

He showed no sign of acknowledgment of your sentiment, his gaze fixed ahead as he continued to walk once you joined his side.

As the minutes stretched on in silence, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot, you found yourself lost in thought. It was only when the distant hum of passing cars reached your ears, their blurred forms darting through the forest's fringe, that you were jolted back to the present.

Drawing to a halt near the forest's edge, you felt the weight of uncertainty settle upon you. With a hesitant pause, you turned to face Luke, the question that had been gnawing at your mind poised on the tip of your tongue.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked.

"I just..." Your voice wavered, uncertainty lacing your words as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. You worried that if you said the wrong thing he'd leave you stranded right there and return to camp while the two of you were still walking distance from it. It annoyed you a little; how much you had to walk on eggshells with him.

You couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if you hadn't chosen him. You were being stupid when you picked him, you decided. You already regret it. Maybe Luke was right, the Oracle was just trying to get into your head.

"What made you change your mind? About coming on the quest?" you finally managed to voice, your eyes meeting his in search of answers.

He looked at you, brown eyes flitting over your expression, before licking his lips and simply stating: "If you break an arm, so do I."

That had been the closest Luke Castellan had ever been to admitting he had a soulmate.

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non-fantasy · 2 days

Note

!!!!! tell me!!

OKAY SO

i couldn't sleep until 1:30 am for unimportant reasons but . at 1:30 am, i was suddenly haunted by a question, right. there are these events in tokimeki memorial girls side 3 and 4 called ADV events, where you get to see a short story from the point of view of one of the main love interests. but like. why the hell was it called adv. is it an acronym for something? what does it mean

so at 1:30 in the morning, i went to look up what tokimeki memorial girls side adv means

i do not receive an answer from search engines

instead, somehow, google heard me ask "tokimeki memorial girls side adv meaning" and gave me THIS.

it's insane, right. it's really insane. this is a 27 page essay claiming that tokimeki memorial girls side (2002), beloved romance simulator, is responsible for teaching girls to view themselves in terms of real-life stats, that rejection from anime guys will give gamers self-esteem issues, and how to view yourself through the male gaze to win love.

i look at this 27 page paper and pass out for the next 5 hours, because it is 1:30 am.

BUT. when i wake up. i am READING. i liveblogged it all to my friend in discord dms (HI @nenestansunsthings) and here are. some INCREDIBLE highlights

"the game teaches you that men expect women to change their clothes from time to time"

the author has cited japanese 123 website, livejournal, and tumblr

"japanese players are more receptive to the series' lessons on femininity than overseas players because of the constant affirmations of the japanese cultural setting" the daily affirmations of being in japan

"players are encouraged to save before making choices and reload if they do not satisfy the object of their affections, teaching women to discard their desires and preferences to please men" HAVE YOU NOT PLAYED A VIDEO GAME BEFORE?!

the author can't make up their mind over whether the game has 7 or 9 love interests

they are basing their analysis on the first game specifically but they bring up the second and third game if it supports their point. but information from the second and third games is ignored if it undermines their point

example 1: they complain about rivals mode portraying women as jealous and willing to throw away their friendships for the sake of a man's love, ignoring that game 2 allows you to calmly talk things out with your friend and game 3 entirely does away with girls being rivals entirely, the game 3 girls are always on your side 100%

example 2: they bring up tumblr posts of fans talking about how they'd date the girls to point out how heteronormative the games are. they are talking about the first game. the tumblr posts are talking about a girl from the third game

weird racism

"this game MAY cause players to develop self-worth issues" "this game MIGHT cause players to see themselves in real-life stats" THESE WORDS ARE DOING A LOT OF HEAVY LIFTING.....

the author is WRONG???? ABOUT THE GAME MECHANICS????

they claim that a guy rejected their invitation for a date because they weren't smart enough but once they were smart enough they launched themselves into a monologue about how this is PROBABLY a guy wanting a girl who is smart enough not to embarrass him but not smart enough to surpass him

THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS. IT'S RNG. THERE'S NO MINIMUM STAT REQUIREMENT TO ASK SOMEONE OUT HE JUST FLIPPED A COIN AND SAID NO

out of the four love interests they mention by name in this, THREE OF THEM HAVE THEIR NAME SPELLED WRONG

look at this fucking bibliography

they have cited, in order.

a shitpost

someone's entire blog

and all of tumblr's search results for tokimeki memorial girls side 3.

which is not even the game they're talking about.

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ruhorih4ra · 16 hours

Text

Hi (⁠•⁠ө⁠•⁠)⁠♡

This chapter contains a little bit of smut but not really, I mean it's suggestive but nothing more than that.

I hope you remember chapter one because that's exactly where we are now hehe.

Get out of my way 🌈

“No, my Lord, you’re not.” Mephistopheles was quick to put distance in between, urging you to Diavolo’s side. You didn’t miss the subtle hint to watch the folder in your hands. “Hey, Mephisto wait!” You offered resistance to the demon’s strength to no avail, he pushed Lord Diavolo and you out of his office. That was so unusually bold that you couldn’t give faith to your own eyes, even the prince lost his stern expression.

Mephistopheles was flustered, he felt completely embarrassed without fully knowing why, you two weren’t doing anything wrong, in fact, you were just talking. Was it the possibility that Diavolo had heard his pathetic confession? It must be. He refused to believe that all this shame was because he had seen your soul, and for a moment he had wanted to keep it, not to own it but to protect it.

Did he push Lord Diavolo out of his office? The poor demon sank into his chair and covered his face with his hands. At least you had agreed to help him.

You never said you’d help him. Mephistopheles vile demon who took advantage of the special bonding moment you were having. Now, walking hand in hand with the next ruler of the Devildom, you wondered why demons had to be so bossy. “Lord Diavolo.”

“Call me Diavolo, please. I won’t acknowledge you otherwise.” The prince spoke, his voice hadn’t returned to his usual playful tone. “Where are we going?” The curious glances of the other students were nothing discreet and it was starting to get annoying but Diavolo couldn’t care less. “To my office, of course. You want to talk to me about that proposal, right? Mephisto told me you would meet me but I got impatient.”

As soon as you entered his office, he offered you a chair, the one in front of his desk. Just an hour ago you’d been sleeping and now you were facing a very passive-aggressive lord of the Devildom. You took a seat and discreetly tried to look inside the folder. “Very well, Mc. What is it that you desire?” That choice of words made you laugh, same laugh that died when you saw Diavolo’s seriousness. “I- uhm. I uh, I want something… something very fair and… necessary.” Diavolo’s hand approached you with an open palm. “Let me see it, please.”

You handed him the folder, hoping that whatever was inside was something reasonable. “Here, lord Diavolo.” A quick glance into the prince’s cold eyes made you swallow and correct yourself. “I mean my lor- No! My Diav- uh no, ah here, Diavolo.”

Diavolo had to suppress the laughter and warmth that arose inside of him. He didn’t want to act as if he was angry, but if he needs to use his status to have a chance for forgiveness, well, he will. He opened the folder and this time his emotions couldn’t be suppressed.

A face of pure surprise blossomed. “You want to nominate Mephisto to be president of the Newspaper Club again?” Lord Diavolo asked with a mix of amusement and disbelief, he wasn’t naive, he knew his friend was taking advantage of the poor human who was too kind to refuse. What he didn’t expect was for you to be completely unaware of the former president’s intentions.

“Fuck you Mephisto, you pedantic demon better watch out because I will hunt you down.” A series of similar threats swam in your mind. A remarkable contrast to the smile you showed on the outside. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”

“You don’t have to do this, Mc. Mephisto won’t harm you, I wouldn’t let him. You can always count on-” Diavolo had to stop mid-sentence, you were looking at him as if he had betrayed you, he hadn’t forgotten that first time your eyes called him a “liar” and now they were practically screaming at him to shut up. “First of all, Mephisto would never harm me and that’s not because of you but because he is an amazingly kind demon.” You remembered how he offered his help even though he didn’t know what was going on, how worried he was when you burned your hands, and how thoughtful he had been to ask Simeon for an ointment beforehand, sure, that could certainly be normal and decent behavior but what about those times you woke up on his sofa covered with a blanket while he worked. “Secondly, I’m doing this because I want to.” That was a lie, but now that Diavolo had somehow offended Mephisto, you were angry.

“Because I have been working with him and he has been nothing but efficient, kind and diligent.” You stood up, saying all the good qualities you had observed, using exaggerated theatrics. “Would it be so impossible? You always do what you want! Why can’t you just accept this?” Lord Diavolo could feel an unpleasant feeling in his stomach, the seed of jealousy blooming quickly under the light of your affection towards yet another demon that wasn’t him.

“He made those disrespectful stickers of Lucifer and I.” He tried to sound severe even though he couldn’t get mad at Mephisto for such a harmless prank. “You love them! You always use them!” you replied. Diavolo really like those stickers, he enjoys Lucifer’s reaction every time he uses them. His face must have betrayed him because the eyes of the human in front of him shone triumphantly.

He was losing his tough guy facade, once that you saw the first cracks it was over for him. “Please Diavolo, please! I won’t ask anything else!” You walked towards him but before you could move any further he was already standing, fixing his coat. “I should talk with Lucifer first.”

“I’m sure he won’t be angry if you take this decision on your own, Diavolo.” You took his arm with an innocent, pleading face that even the most naive demon could recognize. Diavolo recognized it for sure but found it too adorable to get mad. “Well, we may have different perceptions of our dear, prideful friend.” Diavolo smiled.

You looked at Diavolo, and a single question appeared in your mind “Why was he so impatient to see me?” There was a time when you thought that the prince holds you dear, but that was before Sc. Why did Mephisto think sending you was a good idea when Diavolo clearly only think of you as a responsibility. Maybe what he wanted was for you to persuade the brothers and show their support until neither Lucifer nor the prince could reject it.

That was the only explanation because how could the prince ever see you with different eyes? A ruler and his subject, the one subject he had to protect to ensure the future of his dream.

“Come on, Mc. Don’t put that face.” Diavolo cupped your face, his hand softly caressed your cheek. “Is this really so important to you?” The room was silent, nothing but the soft creaking of the fireplace. You nodded and started pouting unintentionally. “But if you don’t want to, I understand. I’ll tell Mephisto that you’ll reconsider it later.” You said, removing the demon’s hand from your face. “You should discuss this with him.”

“Of course, I understand.” Diavolo felt his heart clenching, you looked so devastated that he was making a real effort to maintain his negative. “Please, don’t leave yet, can I offer you one of Barbato’s desserts?”

“I must decline your invitation, it wouldn’t be considerate of me to keep Mephistopheles waiting.” You turned around, leaving the prince speechless with your sudden harsh tone. “Wait, Mc. If you’re busy now, would you accompany me tomorrow?” Diavolo’s facade was completely gone, his voice adopted a desperate tone.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have time.” You opened the door but it was immediately closed again by Diavolo’s hand. “Not even for the prince of the Devildom himself?” You heard him too close to your ear, but you didn’t turn around. “The prince of the Devildom should take care of his kingdom instead of wasting time drinking tea with me.”

A few moments of uncertainty passed before he murmured. “You are in the devildom, you’re part of it and it’s my responsibil-” you turned around and pushed him away. “Stop! Would you please stop calling me a responsibility? I don’t want to be one!” you pushed him away again, this time born out of anger. “Do I bother you!? You don’t need to call me, you don’t need to endure my talks. I’m certainly not asking for it! I can be the exchange student you want without these tedious meetings!” To Diavolo, you had always been a mystery, unpredictable above all the things he could use to describe you. This reaction of yours is unusual but he could see where your anger is coming from and he felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner.

“You know that is my role as the future king but I could never find you unpleasant, I would never consider you a nuisance.” His voice was tender. “Do you find me tedious, Mc?” he asked, closing the distance between the two again. “Because if you do, and don’t tell Barbatos I said this, I wouldn’t mind if you take me as a responsibility, as long as you take me.” The prince caged you against the door, his eyes never leaving yours. “Will you, Mc?”

Was it you or the room was hotter than before? And what was that? Was it music? A soft ballad played in the background. “Diavolo?” You stuttered, avoiding his eyes and finding that his office had suddenly become darker, slightly illuminated by a few candles. “Yes, Mc?” He was getting dangerously close, his sweet scent seemed to fill the room.

“Is this your doing?” The question never left your mouth because it wasn’t important, you had to get out of that place as soon as possible before things got out of control.

“Reject this document so I can leave.” You answered but your voice faltered, the closeness with the demon was inviting. Diavolo smiled, softly tracing circles on your neck with his fingertips. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice anymore. He took the folder and walked towards the desk. “Will you leave if I reject it?” He took off his coat and loosened his tie before searching for the seal. “I will.” You said. He found the wooden seal, it shone with the little flame of the nearest candle. You moved closer, immediately winning the attention of Diavolo, who seemed mesmerized. “But if you accept it, I could stay.”

Diavolo stopped with the seal millimeters away from the paper, how the tables have turned, now demons are tempted by humans. The music was low compared to the beating of your heart, in that dark office Diavolo’s eyes looked like another pair of candles and how alluring they were. Your heart skipped a beat when he sealed the paper, disappointment quickly covered you completely when you understood what that meant.

You turned around with more anger than disappointment ready to leave. However, he caught up with you instantly and you felt the pressure of his chest on your back and an arm holding your hips while he showed you the paper, speaking in your right ear. “I can excuse almost anything from you, Mc. I can accept your continuous rejection of my invitations. I can overlook your abuse of power and shameless bribery.” He laughed, his breath gave you goosebumps. “I can even ignore my own butler hiding things from me in favor of you.” You tensed, knowing what those words meant. “But to think you would run away from me to comfort another demon? I don’t know if I can allow that.” He held in his hand the proposition sealed with a big, colorful “APPROVED”.

“So, you’ll stay here, right?” He forced you to turn around, caging you against the wall and leaning closer until your forehead touched his. Who does he think he is? Being the prince of the devildom doesn’t give him the right to do as he pleases. Oh, he started kissing you. His eyes were closed and his hair was messy, but he looked charming. But let’s not forget that he called you a responsibility! One of his hands traveled to your back, making a path from the first to the last vertebra. Well, everyone makes mistakes. Besides, he IS the next ruler of the Devildom, he needs to be responsible, it’s just his work really. But he made Mephisto feel replaced and Mephisto is your friend! Diavolo lifted you with both arms, squeezing your thighs. He didn’t break the kiss, sighs slipping between kisses as he put you on his desk. Well, maybe Mephisto wasn’t that much of a friend. Let’s be real, you had been talking for what? A month? BUT! HE’S HELPING YOU!

Diavolo started kissing your neck, standing between your legs and keeping your hands glued to the wooden surface as he pressed your bodies together. Yes, Mephisto was helping you, but he also wanted something in exchange, and you had been working really hard, so a little treat won’t do you any harm. Yo can give in, just a little.

“You called me a liar.” Diavolo’s voice was desperate as he kissed every inch of your body. “Your eyes were so cold.” As desperate as he sounded, his words contained pain too, the kind of grief you can’t hide. You kissed him on the lips, one hand in his hair while the other clung to his back. “Mc, tell me that you didn’t mean it.”

*Munch munch* “I didn’t mea...” *Nom, nom, nom.* “Shhhh!! This is getting good, shut up!!”

“I didn’t mean…”

What?

You broke the kiss, trying to regain clarity, looking first at Diavolo, who looked at you with so much adoration that you almost got caught up again. Almost. “What did you say?”

“Tell me you didn’t mean it?” “No, not that, after that.” He shook his head and kissed your chin. “I didn’t say anything, dearest.” “AwWw! How romantic!” You moved so fast that Lord Diavolo found himself kissing empty space. “Mc?”

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room came from the Little D. of Gluttony, who was eating popcorn out of a carnival vase. “What’s wrong dear? Don’t keep the prince waiting!” Sticking out of the hat, two pointed horns shone with neon pink light that reminded you of Asmodeus. Slowly, you connected the dots until realization came like a bucket of cold water.

The Little. D of Lust appeared because you… “NO! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” you pushed Diavolo aside, he didn’t put up any resistance but his face changed from curious to worried in no time. “This is unfair! You shouldn’t be here!” you screamed to the Little D.’s

The Little D. of Lust snapped his fingers and the office turned back to normal. The light was on instead of the darkness and candles from before. The place smelled like books, paper and leather, nothing close to the perfume of flowers and music that filled the room just few moments ago. “What are you talking about, Mc?” Diavolo grabbed your arm, squeezing harder when you didn’t respond.

His eyes looked at the place where you had been screaming, even so, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Diavolo, stop!” Your hand pushed his face, breaking his concentration and also his grip. “This was a mistake.” You said before leaving.

And that’s the beginning of the end, that’s how everything happened and the reason why you are here now, sitting at a table surrounded by 6 little demons.

“Ah! How nostalgic, we were so little then!” The Little D. of Envy sighed, wiping a non-existent tear. “Yes, you were little.” You looked at Sc again, something about her seemed different, she looked nervous. “I’m tired, do you think I should take a little nap?” If anyone had listened to you, they would have said you sounded defeated. Shameless laughter of the demons around you reached your ears, one by one changed their forms to resemble the brothers. “Sure, human. We will take good care of you.” You just nodded, slowly laying your head on the table. “Close your eyes, Mc.” You heard Lucifer’s voice. “Of course.” You obeyed.

Next chapt? (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

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