#my art class thinks I’m satanic now
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ineffable shitty foil figures
#art class is. something.#one of my classmate said “that looks like a demon”#I very quickly shut him up with “it IS.”#my art class thinks I’m satanic now#I don’t mind that#aziracrow#good omens#ineffable husbands
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All right. WHERE are my petemacau girlies. Where is my vegaspetemacau fic where macau says “hia if you don’t marry p’pete I will.” Where is Macau saying “I will be p’pete’s second husband.” And Vegas saying “hey. Hey where the fuck am i in this situation.” Pete saying “we’re not even married. Wait. Are we?” And Macau saying “don’t even worry about it. Btw what do you think about a spring wedding?”
WHERE is the obnoxious Macau going “and my brother in law said this and then my brother in law did that and did I mention that my brother in law—“ Macau having the BIGGEST crush on p’pete and chay being like “wow you are more embarrassing than me about p’kim. Did you write fanfiction about marrying p’pete yet. Do you need me to beta it. Can you finish betaing my last chapter please. I’m so close to being sold to p’kim in it.”
Where!! is the childhood au where histrionic teenage Vegas constantly wants to throttle mini Macau bc hey did you know! Macau is going to marry p’pete when he’s older :) and teenage Vegas is like HES MY BOYFRIEND GET YOUR OWN (and then he cries on his rooftop and skips rocks on the pond while listening to emo music. And Pete CANNOT believe this but he is actually out loud saying the words “no Vegas of course I’m not going to marry Macau” before they even say ily to each other.) Macau gives Pete drawings and poems and flowers ripped from the gardens BECAUSE P’PETE DESERVES THEM HIA and now Pete has to pawn entire bouquets off on his grandma bc Vegas can’t stop himself from competing with his little brother.
Where is my martial arts au where Pete is Macau’s teacher and Vegas picks Macau up after class. And there is FLIRTING happening right in front of Macau’s salad!! And he has to beg “p’pete PLEASE don’t sleep with my brother everyone who does DISAPPEARS after!” And Pete is like. How do I explain a one night stand when I am just a simple martial arts teacher. And also I’m definitely going to sleep with his brother.
Every time Macau says hi or bye “I love you p’pete!” Immediately follows bc it makes Vegas SEETHE. and when Vegas calls Pete his wife Macau just judges him and is like “hia please it’s the twenty first century. What if p’pete doesn’t like that. You should say husband instead.” Pete leaves the room immediately bc Vegas calling him “my wife” is literally the the most tame thing he likes Vegas to call him.
Shit disturber Macau who’s like “hia you’re so old I think p’pete needs to trade you in for a younger model.” Macau who sits in between Vegas and Pete on the couch at any chance he gets. Macau who negotiates and somehow wins a date night every two weeks with Pete where Vegas isn’t allowed to come with them on the basis that ITS FAMILY BONDING TIME HIA. And Vegas puts up with it bc sometimes he needs to do creepy satanic rituals in some fucking peace and quiet for once.
Macau who doesn’t even realize he likes Pete!he just thinks Pete is the coolest fucking person ever! What the actual fuck is he doing with Vegas! (But he’s not going to say that out loud bc what if p’pete REALIZES and LEAVES and that means he’s not just leaving Vegas but Macau too!!!) Macau who dates a boy and is DISTRAUGHT when they break up and chay is like bro thank god he was way too much like p’pete I thought you were over that crush? And Macau is like WHAT CRUSH.
Anyway. I just think Macau having a crush on pete or pretending to in order to cause Vegas grief is great.
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TIKTOK SENTENCE STARTERS PART 7
some of these are quotes from tiktok creators, and some are from various other forms of media that were popular audios/trends on tiktok
❛ I’ve slept with like 1/3rd of them. Some would call me a groupie. I would also call me a groupie. ❜
❛ What do you think about Celine Dion? Are you just done with her? ❜
❛ We can as a family just scroll through Grindr. ❜
❛ Oh no, someone’s driving by. Get small. ❜
❛ Is my butt juicy yet? I’m really looking for some instant gratification. ❜
❛ I can’t even control my emotions, how am I supposed to control a machine? ❜
❛ Who airdropped Markiplier!Jesus at the Shrek rave?! ❜
❛ The best way to get back at someone who wronged you is to live a happy life. But chemically I can’t do that. So I’m gonna fuck his dad. ❜
❛ I send my best emails unmedicated. ❜
❛ The mothman stole my catalytic converter in Point Pleasent, West Virginia. ❜
❛ Bigfoot ate all the bottles out of my recycling bin and called my mom a slut. ❜
❛ The chupacabra keeps stealing packages off my front porch and sending my wife suggestive text messages. ❜
❛ I don’t trust your physical therapist because she also said you move your hands like this and you get rid of ghosts.
❛ I see Gods law not as a restriction but as a challenge. Now give me the ranch! ❜
❛ Satan will have to dig deeper just to hold me! ❜
❛ We may be low income but we’re not low in c*m. ❜
❛ He says he only hangs out with you because there are more spiders in your house than average. ❜
❛ I am the silliest of enemies to have. I will make powerpoints disparaging your character, and I will keep this bit going for a minimum of five years. ❜
❛ I will not be silenced by the mailman. ❜
❛ If God didn’t want me to commit fatherless behavior he should have given my mother better taste in men. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do. ❜
❛ Bro, they bell peppered downtown. Bro. They bell peppered it. How could you bell pepper my downtown? Bro, they bell peppered me. Dude, I got bell peppered. ❜
❛ When you’re sitting there mixing ice cream into ramen you can’t help but think “what if this is a prank? what if they put that there just to see if they can get me to eat it?” ❜
❛ Here’s the thing: future me? Rich. I believe in her. That bitch is wealthy. Current me? Broke, but I’ve got free time and I’m healthy-ish. So I’m booking trips to faraway places on that bitches credit card, and I am / will be my own sugar mama. ❜
❛ It seems like nobody wants to dabble in the dark arts anymore. It’s all candle spells and rosemary. ❜
❛ The other day I tripped over a lemon hex and dislocated one of my chakras. Thank god for those Reiki healing classes I took at the YMCA. ❜
❛I just don’t understand this younger generation of witches anymore. I mean, if you’re not in a cemetery after midnight summoning the spirits of your dead ancestors to seek vengeance on your landlord for raising the rent, then what are you doing? ❜
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Soulmate Barbatos+drawing 🥺
Barbatos - Drawing
Barbatos x GN! reader
Prompt: Whatever you draw on your skin shows up on the other's.
AN: The thought of little drawings on Barbs hands is so cute, I approve. Here you go, hope you enjoy Anon! :)
Warnings: None
You stared out the window as you tuned out the lecture that was in session. Applied potions wasn’t your best class, so even if you paid attention you’d still be in the dark about what was going on. Perhaps you could get Satan to tutor you in exchange for a day at the cat cafe…
Your eyes sweep over to the professor- who’s scribbling along the board not unlike that of a human realm doctor and talking animatedly about another experiment…or equation... You’re not sure.
Sighing internally, you look to the blank notebook in front of you and begin to draw cross-hatches in the top corner of the page.
Your little distraction lasted about a minute before the corner was filled and no more lines could fit in either direction. Pursing your lips, your eyes drift over to your sedentary hand, and with a shrug you drag the pen across your skin.
Your space is limited, so you opt for minimal drawings. Along the top of your pointer finger you draw circles, your middle- squares, your ring- hearts, and your pinky- diamonds. You finish the outline of a cat’s head when you hear someone clear their throat beside you.
Looking up you meet the irritated eyes of your professor. He glances at your inked hand in disapproval.
“If you’re going to waste time, you’re not going to do it in my class. Take your things and promptly go to Lord Diavolo’s office.” After reprimanding you, he walked back to the chalkboard resuming his lesson.
You roll your eyes as you pack up your things and leave the classroom to make your way through the hallways. Navigating to the familiar door, you knock a few times before hearing a muffled, ‘come in.’ Upon entering, you’re not only met with Diavolo but Barbatos as well.
Diavolo happily greets you as you take a seat in front of his grand desk.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but shouldn’t you be in class right now?” He asks.
“Yeah, I got kicked out for not paying attention…” You dare to look at both men as you admit your fault.
Diavolo hums in understanding. “I see. What were you doing instead?”
Embarrassed, you show him the hand you doodled on. The young prince begins to laugh excitedly as the demon butler softly gasps.
“What wonderful art! It looks just like the art that’s on your hand, Barbatos.”
You furrow your brows as your eyes snap to Barbatos for an explanation. He sighs as he slides his glove off, displaying the geometrics running along his fingers and the unfinished cat on the back of his hand.
“I noticed the curious drawings as I was removing my cotton gloves in favor of using rubber gloves to wash the young lord’s favorite tea mug.”
“But… how did my drawings get on you?” You asked bewildered.
“Ah!” An idea struck Diavolo, picking up one of his pens he continued. “Barbatos, why don’t you draw something on your hand and we’ll see if it shows up on theirs.” With the pen held out to him, Barbatos took hold of it.
“It certainly couldn’t hurt to try.” He surmised.
Clicking the pen, he brought the end of it to the hand that was littered in doodles. Marking his skin with the ink, he finished the blank cat outline silently.
Meanwhile, you watched the back of your hand as three little whiskers appeared on either side of the cat’s face. Two small dots for the eyes and a nose and mouth formed soon after.
The pen clicked once more, indicating the end of Diavolo’s little experiment as Barbatos handed him his pen back.
“Well?” Diavolo asked eagerly. As demon prince, this was the most thrilling thing he’d witnessed in the last millenia.
Showing both men the now completed cat doodle, Diavolo clapped his hands joyously at the turn of events as Barbatos continued to eye your hand.
“So, what do you think this means?” You asked. Your question wasn’t directed specifically, just someone please explain what is going on…
“Perhaps you both are connected to each other somehow.” Diavolo proposed, pausing for dramatic effect as a childlike grin plastered itself on his face. “Perhaps, you two are… soulmates?”
You glanced at Barbatos, who hadn’t taken his focus off you since you showed your hand.
“I know! Why don’t both of you go to the library and look into this strange phenomenon together?” The young prince rose from his chair with a smirk.
He walked over to your seat pulling you up, and guided both you and his trusted butler to the door. Barbatos promptly opened it, gesturing for you to exit first. Thanking him, you walk out of the office with Barbatos following directly after.
He then turned to Diavolo who stood in the doorway with his own smug smirk. “As you wish, my lord. Though I expect all your work to be finished when I return.”
Diavolo made a pained expression as he grumbled and closed the door without saying anything more. You giggled at the prince’s antics as Barbatos suggests you two get going.
The walk to the library by his side is pleasant. Light, easy conversation taking up any space that settles between you and soft smiles directed your way- you think that you’d be more than pleased to find that your soul is connected to his.
#valentine's soulmate event#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me fluff#obey me barbatos#obey me barbatos x reader#obey me x reader#obey me barbatos x mc#obey me x mc#obey me reader insert#obey me imagines#obey me fanfic#jo writes#blood moon mail
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Sticky Notes
Classes at RAD are for the most part interesting, especially for exchange students from the human realm. But the basics like human history, geography and English classes are deadly boring for MC. They were already in university before the exchange program and now they have to relive the hell that was high school subjects?! There was a reason why they had decided to go to the art academy. Not that they would get much out of the study except for a fancy paper and unemployment, but it was better than rotting away behind the desk with lots of text on paper.
Today they were just wasting their time in English class again. It didn’t help that the teacher was known to speak with a monotonous voice so the entire class was bored out of their minds. The only fun part was that the teacher didn’t really care about the use of a D.D.D. But they had to be on silent mode.
To MC’s delight they had found a lost stack of sticky notes in their bag so they decided to doodle a bit to pass time. They doodled classmates, random objects, little anatomy studies from their phone, sometimes animals or a stupid human inside joke only Solomon understood. At the end of the class, their entire table would be covered in sticky notes with all kinds of doodles and since it was their assigned seat, they could just leave it at as it is.
So imagine MC’s surprise when they found their seat completely clean. Not a single sticky note in sight. There was nothing harmful about that, but they wondered who took them. Did the teacher remove them? But the teacher denied having touched any doodles, he thought it added a nice atmosphere to the classroom so he left it alone. All seven brothers shook their heads when asked if they took any sticky notes. Class was starting so MC didn’t have time to ask others. That didn’t stop them from making more though, Solomon enforced the behavior by searching for memes and making MC change the people into the brothers. It was a miracle the two still had oxygen by the time the class ended, they were trying really hard not to laugh too much. Again they left the doodles on their table and went to the cafeteria with Purgatory Hall crew. During lunch, the demon Prince came by as well looking quite…giddy…? It was a strange look on him and no one could really guess nor did they dare to ask. Perhaps Barbatos allowed something be wanted to do? Hopefully it’s nothing…strange…
After lunch they return for classes, looking up some more reference material but they are met by a surprise.
They walk into the classroom and the moment they look at their seats, everything is squeaky clean! All the notes are gone.
“Shit…”
“Shit…”
“What’s shit?” Satan has joined them and he is a little confused why they’re staring at their tables. Isn’t it suppose to be clean and in order?
“Ah…it’s uh…we drew some memes and…”
“We left it on MC’s table, but they disappeared somehow…?”
“Hmm…suspicious. It wasn’t any of us, that’s for sure, otherwise Lucifer would have gotten your asses already.”
“The only ones who have access to the closed classrooms are the teachers, but none of them claim to have taken any.” MC adds and the three simply stare at the tables, before the teacher tells them to go to their own seats.
However, MC struggles to follow the class as they keep getting distracted by their own thoughts. Why would anyone take some silly doodles?
After two hours the bell finally rings and it marks the end of their day. MC is still in their own world and Solomon has to snap his fingers in front of their nose to wake them up.
“You’re still thinking about who took them?”
“Yeah, it’s all just really strange to me.”
“How about this. We make some new doodles tomorrow and leave them on the desk. I’ll place an all-seeing-eye in my PE bag and leave it in the classroom. If the culprit comes back for more, we can catch them.”
“They’re silly little sticky notes, I’m just overthinking it.”
“Did I hear you say catching a culprit?” Satan butts in, being curious as always with his big love for mystery novels. His room is full of them and MC has had the pleasure of borrowing them a few times. Satan’s room is basically MC’s personal library. But the price for delay or loss is way greater than RAD’s…Asmodeus is the only one who lived to tell the tale. It still haunts him to this day and he has sworn to never borrow a book from Satan ever again.
“Yeah, why?” MC asks as they raise an eyebrow.
“I want to join.”
“It’s really not that dramatic though.”
“I don’t care, if it happens to be Lucifer, I’ll have some blackmail material and otherwise I have something interesting for the day.”
The next day, the three of them mumble amongst themselves for a bit, before leaving to “get lunch”. They pretend the leave their side of the building and Solomon looks around as he quickly puts an invisibility spell on them. They sneak back to their classroom’s corridor and hide in their lockers, waiting for someone to enter the space.
It feels like hours have passed when they finally hear heavy voices and footsteps approaching their lockers. Unlike Solomon and MC, Satan has heightened senses as a demon, thus he can make out the culprits by scent and aura.
“Your majesty, I still can’t help but wonder why you insist on taking all those silly drawings. Is there something special about them?”
Diavolo?!
“The special thing about them is that they are made by MC. I think they’re absolutely adorable, though some of them are quite odd, I enjoy looking at them. Perhaps if I use them as research material, I might be able to understand human culture better.”
MC feels a little funny and looks down at their green pactmark on their hip to see it faintly glowing. Satan’s pactmark, he is experiencing conflicting emotions. They quickly grab their D.D.D. to text him, asking if everything’s alright.
“I’m fine…it’s just so weird to me how obsessed he seems with humans…particularly you…but you’re mine already…”
So it seems he is worried, a little possessive but also a bit amused. It could also be that his wrath is acting up faintly.
“I agree that it’s strange, but you don’t have to worry. I’m sure his curiosity is the reason for all this, not me as a person. He might be the Demon Prince of Devildom, but you’re my Demon Prince.”
“I swear on Mammon’s creditcard, if it weren’t for this damn locker and those people inside the classroom, I would’ve kissed you.”
“Looks like we’ve got plans once we’re home ;)”
“Wrong fucking chat you nasty rabbits.” Solomon interrupts them and MC can feel themselves blush out of embarrassment. It’s a good thing they’re in separate lockers.
After a little while the door opens again and they catch a glimpse of a bundle of sticky notes in a box, along with the previous lost ones. There’s a ton of them. Has he been collecting each and every one MC’s been leaving around for the past few weeks or something?
When the professor has left, the three bust out of their lockers to confront the Demon Prince who’s ears and cheeks have gone red. Barbatos seems unfazed, he probably saw all of this coming some time ago.
“So you’re the one who’s been taking MC’s sticky notes, your majesty?” Solomon crosses his arms in amusement as he questions the throne’s heir.
“I don’t quite understand why you have to be sneaky about it when you could’ve asked MC or Solomon directly.”
“Was that why you were looking so happy lately?” Satan asks forcing the prince to give in.
“When I first saw them I thought they were cute and wanted to study one from up-close. And I guess from there my curiosity took over so I kept coming back to see if you made more…”
“Curious about humans as ever I see…I’ll let you off the hook this time since they’re just silly little drawings, but if I ever catch you taking something more personal without permission, you can forget about any favors.” MC squints their eyes at Diavolo who nods in agreement, relieved that they aren’t mad at him.
“Great, problem solved. Can we go home now?”
“It’s lunch break Satan…”
“Argh! I just wanna go home...” Satan signs as he leans his forehead against MC’s shoulder.
“Let me talk to the headmaster. The least I could do is gives you early dismissal from class for causing trouble.”
“Would you really?!”
“Leave it to me, you three can pack your stuff and go home.” Diavolo nods at Satan, who seems as happy as one can be and the blond rushes trough the classroom to pack his and MC’s bag, before dragging his S/O out of the building like a kid going to the amusement park.
“Satan slow down!” MC giggles, but gets swept up in his arms as he runs home with them.
“No time to lose before the others are home! Don’t forget what you told me over text.” He says with a mischievous grin.
Rip levi’s ears I guess if u know what I mean 😏
#obey me headcanons#obey me#obey me satan#satan x reader#obey me diavolo#obey me solomon#solomon x reader
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First off I wanna preface this by saying I haven’t been in the CP2077 fandom for very long and I’ve been following you for even less time but I absolutely adore your ocs, and seeing them cross my dash makes me smile every time I also love reading the tidbits of lore around them..I truly love them and everything you do and I cannot wait to see more 🖤 -ps do you think you could maybe do a up close of gabby’s tattoos? I’m real curious about them
Welcome to the fandom and thanks so much for your kind words! It means a lot to me!!!! 💜💜💜💜💜
And sure! I can do that, but keep in mind that I can't focus on modding more than like, an hour, so all their tattoos are rushed! Well, Gabby only has one technically, the other marks on their body are either supposed to be a birthmark or scars (I'll get around to make them into real scars eventually but... y'know...)
And hope you don't mind me rambling a little either! So here's a Keep Reading!
Oops, had to make Gabby bald for that one hehe 🤭
I'm gonna preface this by saying I can't draw, all these were taken from free vector sites. These are four different filigree images I put together, plus the sign of Venus (♀).
The thorns filigrees are a reference to Jesus' crown. Gabby got their tattoo after being fired from Militech for blowing their cover as a double agent and left for dead by Arasaka assassins. It's a symbol of their rebirth, but also a symbol they rejected their father's power (he's a descendant of the founder of Militech) to join the "mortals", the lower class.
The two other filigrees I used are inspired by rococco art, which is known to be a pastel and irregular artstyle with too many details. It suits Gabby's personnality.
The sign of Venus is both a nod at their gender (they partially identify as a woman) and their essence as a cambion (half-succubus). Lucifer is the former name of the planet Venus. Their stage name is Venere di Luce, Venus of Light.
Gabby has other markings on their body. Two scars and a birthmark.
Gabby's birthmark is a reference to the number of the Beast. I was inspired by The Omen. So, in some occult beliefs, the term "Antichrist" refers to all children born from a demon and a human, not just Satan. It's just another sign that Gabby isn't fully human.
Their scars are both branding marks made from hot iron and Holy Water. The one on their neck isn't as visible usually, I used Photoshop tools to make it clearer. It's the symbol for the Death's-Head Moth, a XBD "studio" who hired Gabby after they were fired from Militech since they cannot die, making them the "perfect doll" for them to play with.
It was applied to them shortly after they started hanging more and more with Maelstrom. Gabby had agreed for the scene, since they thought the mark would fade away pretty quickly. They didn't know the DHM's leader knew about their demonic nature. It's just there now. Forever. It'll always hurt a little bit.
The second branding scar is a symbol of Maelstrom. Gabby eventually broke their contract from the Death's-Head Moth to work with Maelstrom instead. They didn't want an initiation cause they like their face a little too much for that, so they chose a different approach to make themself an official associate of the gang.
They were publically branded by Royce, and yes, it was extremely painful. The scar looks right on some angles only. I'll make them into real scars eventually!
Also, I'm using your nice ask to say that I've changed Gabby's eyes to give them a more unnatural look! They're literally the goat now 🤭
#thank you thank you thank you#and sorry for all the rambling it needed to get out 🤣#welcome again!!!!#cyberpunk 2077#oc: gabby luccessi
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Can I get a test match up for your event? This is what o sent on a while ago for an obey me match up (I think it was for 500 or before when I sent this) anyway, thanks and congrats!
-🦈
Transmasc he/they, 4’10(lol), INTJ-I have Adhd and lots of anxiety(always nervous and stressed about something)
I like art and theater (acting and musicals) I also like playing the Irish tin whistle and electric bass. I also like reading (books and comics)
I like to think and I’m told I’m funny, I like making people laugh and be happy(though sometimes my jokes can be like, horrifically dark-it’s coping but I always feel bad when I make someone uncomfy :( ), I’m caring, I’ll be there for anyone and take care of people no matter what (not the best at taking care of myself though rip)
I’m kinda 50%, sometimes I’m chaotic and I’m up to do whatever and dangerous junk without thinking-other 50% I just wanna nap and cuddle with someone.
Btw I don’t really know the new characters/datables so prefer not to be matched with them, sorry
Event Closed
(sup SHARKY!!! Hope you enjoy this 😊)
I match you with Belphegor.
Imma be honest. It's the dark humor. If anyone uses dark jokes to deflect inner turmoil, it's him. I mean, just compare the way he is before and after he was locked in the attic. Point being, you're never going too far with him. If he goes too far though, smack him. Actually, maybe don't, he might like that.
He does his best to stay awake for you, but sometimes he can't help it. So he likes that you're a reader, because it's something you can do while he lays on your lap. You can both sit quietly together, and he doesn't miss too much if he falls asleep. Although, he does get dissapointed missing your expressions if you're reading something particularly interesting. But it's fine. He can see them when you rehash the book for him later.
Got anxiety? Babes, he can help. Sort of. His abilities are typically used to put people to sleep. And if anxiety is keeping you from sleeping, it's all the more excuse for him to use you as his body pillow. But he slowly learns to syphon his abilities so that if the negative energy is starting to rise, he can lull you down enough that you can feel at ease. He's so proud of his new skill, mostly because it means he isn't useless to one of the two most important people in his life (it's the trauma talking)
Glad you like cuddles. Your new position as boyfriend to the Avatar of Sloth is dependent on cuddles. Get ready for your new life skipping classes to nap in the attic, skipping council meetings to snuggle, and disappearing from the HoL to sleep under the stars. He's warm and snuggly, more soft than any teddy bear you've ever cuddled.
Idk how tall the brothers are, but I hc that they are all nearly freakishly tall. His sadistic ass mercilessly teases you for being 4'10" constantly. But if you find a spell that could make you taller, suddenly he's whining and pouting. He likes his tiny boyfriend! You're snuggle sized! Don't stop being his tiny cuddle buddy!
You're lucky you're chaotic. Because once you started dating Belphie, your involvement in the Anti Lucifer League had only grown. Your fingerprints were on all sorts of crimes. Good thing you liked that life.
"So, obviously we are still banned from the kitchen after the incident," Balphie said, pointing to the whiteboard that was detailing his idea for the future prank.
"Right," you and Satan both nodded.
"So, we need a prank that will require less stove top and more finesse! Now, Satan, you will aquire as many bottles of dish soap as possible from your connections."
"On it."
"And as for you, my little shark," he said, giving you a soft smile, before taking your hands in his, "I need you to cause some chaos. While Satan and I spread the dish soap on all the floors in the house, you'll pester Levi enough that he summons Lotan."
"And filling the house with water, along the house full with bubbles! Belphie that's genius," you said, nuzzling your nose against his.
"I do what I can," he grinned, pride radiating off him. "Now if everyone understands the plan, let us begin!"
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Questions To Ask A Wild Rampaging Alexa...
Ripped from the website Ponly
What books can you recommend?
So many. My favorites are the Satanic Bible by Anton Szandor Lavey, The Great and Secret Show by Clive Barker, and numerous other occult and metaphysical books... my interests are all over the place!
What was the last joke that made you laugh?
I tend to laugh at everything, especially TikTok videos and memes. I can't even remember.
How would you characterize your best friend?
Selfless and brave.
Do you have a character you often compare yourself to?
No. I'm too weird to even attempt that!
Do you spend weekends with your family?
I try, but most of the time, I can't. I make up for this during the week as much as possible. Of course, my 'family' pretty much amounts to my baby squirrel and my big brother, so...
Who is your favorite foreign singer?
Shakira!
What was the last fear you were able to overcome?
It took me a while to think of an answer to this. Not because I don't have any fears, of course, but because most of the things I would consider 'fears' were conquered a looong time ago. I think the last fear I conquered would have to be social media. For most of my life, I didn't partake in it; I didn't see the need. That and all the horror stories I kept hearing acted as a serious deterrent. Now? I practically live on Twitter.
What is the weirdest game you have ever played?
Harvester. I loved, hated, and was creeped out by it - all at the same time.
What is the most mind-blowing piece of art you have ever seen?
I'm amazed by most forms of art, especially those done with obvious passion. I'm a huge fan of passion; it makes for fantastic creative works.
What is your favorite computer game?
Skyrim! Though The Witcher 3 is rapidly moving up on my list of favorites.
What things would you like to change in the world?
1. Racism. It baffles me how something as simple as skin pigment can make people feel at odds with one another. We seem to be the only creatures on the planet that does this... why?
2. Sexism. The idea that just because I'm female, I am somehow less than or weaker. Physically, yes, I understand, but there are far more important things than physical strength. In today's society, physical strength is low on the totem poll.
3. Religious entitlement. Just because someone has a different religion than you doesn't mean they are any better or worse. They are simply different. That would be like hating someone because they eat American cheese and you don't. Food tastes are different depending on the person... so is religion.
What dish would you never be able to refuse?
Eggs Benedict. They are the bane of my existence (health-wise).
What type of stereotypes are you most sick of?
That women are or should be subservient to men. That we like to be catcalled and anointed with endearing names like 'honey' or 'dear' by absolute strangers. That we want to be hit on or touched by people we don't even know. That we want unsolicited pictures of dicks.
Is there something you are afraid of asking in public?
I hate asking people for anything, even small, simple things. My big brother scolds me for this all the time. He says I have too much pride; I say I'm fiercely independent. That 'pride' has made me strong, self-sufficient, and smarter than your average. However, I do see his point: I can sometimes get overzealous...
If you could start this day anew, what would you do?
Find ways to get even more accomplished than I did. I'm huge on efficiency.
Between DC and Marvel, what would you choose?
Marvel. I don't think I've ever read a DC comic, while at one point I was actually collecting Marvel!
What is/was your favorite class at school?
Athletics. I've always been naturally athletic, so this was my favorite class. Academically, it would have to be English. Especially when we studied classical literature, like myths and pantheons. I fell in love with writing because of those.
What do you think happiness consists of?
True Friendship.
When you feel there is someone annoying at a party, how do you react?
I actively avoid/ignore them.
Have you ever had an urge to leave your city and live somewhere in the countryside surrounded by rivers and magnificent mountains?
Oh, hell no. I am way too bougie to make it in the country! I love my conveniences; there is no way I could live without them. I mean, I COULD, but I definitely wouldn't like it!
Do you have an animal you adore?
Dragons. I've always had a deep fascination with them, even when I was a little girl. If you're talking about real animals, it would have to be dogs. I love them so much. I like cats too, but I adore dogs way more.
Hearing a well-respected person criticizing your loved one, what would you do?
Light. Them. Up!
What is your happiest childhood memory?
I have so many that it would be difficult to emphasize just one. Most include my big brother; very few have anything to do with my 'parents.'
What is the thing you are most grateful for?
Life.
Would you never try rather than die trying?
I try to never say never, but skydiving is high on the list. And Bungie jumping.
Have you ever had any experiences to meet your favorite artist?
I don't have a favorite artist. More on that in a bit.
Can you cut relationships with people pulling you down?
Yes. I have a history of it. In fact, I've become good at it!
What is your dream job?
Being a writer.
What makes you feel proud of yourself?
Completing a story and then receiving feedback on said story. I put a lot of work into my works, so when it's all finally finished and in the hands of my readers - and they take time out of their lives to give me their opinions on it - bliss. I mean, they could be doing anything else, but they used their precious time to read one of my works. Fucking mind blowing!
What inspires you the most?
My baby squirrel. This little wench has not only beat cancer and was a trooper throughout the entire thing but also quit smoking and drinking cold turkey. I am honestly in awe of her, and she inspires the shit out of me when I'm undertaking, well, anything.
Do you think money can buy happiness?
Actually, yes. I know conventional wisdom says 'no,' but I believe it can.
What is your favorite flower?
Actually, I'm not too fond of flowers. Venus fly traps, maybe? Black Dahlias? Black roses?
What are three words that make you smile?
I love you. I could insert some weird or funny answers, but honestly, those three words mean a lot to me. They always put a smile on my face (not when said by strangers, though. That's creepy).
Can you name a place where you have never been to but wish to go?
Japan! (That one was so easy 😄)
What human qualities do you cherish?
Loyalty and honesty.
What language do you want to learn?
Japanese!
Who is the person you admire?
I admire several people, but I'm going to assume you mean "the most." That would be my big brother.
What is your favorite midnight cocktail?
I don't drink alcohol, and even when I did, I never drank cocktails. So I have no idea.
What is the best advice you have ever received?
This is easy: "Don't gamble anything you can't afford to lose."
Who is your favorite artist?
I don't have favorite artists of any genre of work; I have favorite works. And they are legion. I've always wondered about people that are fans of other people, stating that everything they make is golden. That isn't possible, nor is it true. Yes, you can have artists that resonate with you more often than not and be fond of those artists, but I don't. Not truly.
How do you deal with criticism?
It honestly depends on the person and reason. I firmly believe in the Rorschach (ink blot) test, which states that people project themselves onto you. Their observations, tone, and worldview are truly representative of the way they think and how they see themselves. People will snitch themselves off pretty quickly if you allow them to speak long enough.
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I started reading Black Metal Rainbows which is a compilation of essays and art exploring the inherent queerness of the Black Metal genre as well as its controversial history. I cannot say I’m a huge fan of the genre, but I am fascinated by it in a sociocultural sense. Growing up, I heard all the gruesome stories about Norwegian Black Metal bands murdering their own band mates and delighting in church burnings. Of course, this strengthened the Satanic Panic at the time that continues on today. However, this book argues that Black Metal doesn’t just belong to misanthropic middle class teenage white boys and that it would be absurd for a subversive genre to not include those who are marginalized.
Additionally, Black Metal doesn’t have to be about hate or the power fantasies involved in glorifying murder. Rather, it is about exploring negativity as a whole amongst other things that do not have to be built upon destruction. It also discusses how right wing fascists have flocked to the genre because they view it as “counter-culture” and they want to portray themselves as “counter-culture” to appeal to conservatives who, well, can’t accept that their aesthetic isn’t cool or interesting. I think about this in light of Kanye West’s descent into right wing extremism and his recent donning of a Burzum sweater. Instead of denying this aspect of Black Metal history, they argue, we need to expand on Black Metal’s inclusiveness and tell Nazis to fuck off.
I listened to very few Black Metal bands growing up. I think the only band I really listened to within the genre was Cradle of Filth. I heard a little bit of Dimmu Borgir as well. One of my major gripes with the genre and with many different sub genres of metal is the commitment to sounding like shit. Metal elitists will bag on any metal band with clean vocals and melody, claiming that the cacophonous bullshit they like to listen to is inherently better. You can’t tell them that the music they like is bullshit, though, because then they’ll act like “you just don’t get it” and maybe in this case I don’t, but whenever a Black Metal band does make music that is well constructed, elitists will attempt to eject it from the genre like making noise that sounds good is a crime.
I think the reason why so many metal bands from the era sounded like a chaotic amalgam of noise is simple: A lot of pioneers within the genre were young men and teenage boys who couldn’t play for shit. For the more successful bands, this became polished over time. I can’t tell you how many times in the Katatonia documentary that either Jonas or Anders claims that one or the other sounded horrible while they were renting out spaces to play, and I think even Tobias Forge wrote about them negatively in a zine he made back in the 90s. Not that Katatonia is Black Metal, because it’s not, but the bands trajectory kind of proves my point about the metal scene at the time compared to now - teenagers saturating the market in garbage until they fizzle out or emerge making diamonds.
Anyways, I’ll periodically post my thoughts on this book as I read it.
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Marriage. 61
Chapter 61: Year of hell
I can’t believe my luck, well, I feel unlucky. She’s in my homeroom class. I’m going to die! The moment the teach mention my excellent high scores, on the entrance exam, the class had a roar of “boos’ and “nerd boy.” Great, just great. Haven’t started talking to anyone and I already have a nickname. I rather be home. At least there I can study in my underwear, and snack whenever I want to.
When the teacher tells me to find a seat, a blonde girl calls my attention. She saying how there’s an empty seat next to her, so why not take it. When I reach the seat is when I see her eyes are watching me. I feel nervous. Maybe I shouldn’t sit over here. I’m seconds from looking for another seat, when the blonde girl gets my attention again. Well, it’s too late.
Once I take the seat, I feel my fate is done for. The blonde introduce herself as Erasa, the blonde guy as Sharpner, and the one with the pretty eyes is Videl. Why do I keep referring her to pretty eyes? What is wrong with me? Then Erasa tells me that Videl is Mr. Satan’s daughter. Oh, just perfect! She just had to be the daughter to that weird guy, who claimed to beat cell. Oh, no harm in lying about that. It made things peaceful for me and mom, and everyone else. But I am impressed that she’s his daughter. Not impressed that the guy could have kids. I’m just impressed that her father is famous.
The rest of the day went by pretty ok. Except for when I kept feeling her eyes on me. I was just trying to write down as much as notes as possible. During lunch, when I saw what they had for lunch, in the lunchroom, I was debating on rushing home for lunch and then rush back for next class. Nope mister. I’m going to truly be suffering today. I’m just grateful that this school gives free lunch. But note to stuff, bring my own lunch from now on. The food seems like one of Bulma’s kitchen experiments gone wrong. At least I could eat her food. Guess, I’ll wait till I get home. Hope my stomach can stay quiet till then.
…
I’m so happy my Gohan started school. But Goten looks so sad without his big brother around. Maybe I could take him to Bulma’s. That usually cheers him up. That idea was turned down the moment it left my mouth. He instead stood in his room, playing with his toys. Maybe he’ll cheer up if I make his favorite lunch.
…
This is so not fun. Gohan started school, and I’m going to be home without him. Mom asked if I wanted to see Trunks, but it’s not the same. Besides, on Monday he’s always training with his dad. I’m going to my room, and pretend that this is all a dream. Big brother will be in home, and play with me. And we’ll play that ninja tag, and hide and seek with mom. Maybe I could catch some bugs, and show Gohan. He likes it when I show him when I find something new. Even mom likes that. Mom did get worried when I brought home a tiger, and asked if we could keep it as a pet. Gohan thought it was funny, but mom yelled at me and the tiger. The tiger was very scared of mom. That was funny.
…
This day just won’t end. Thankfully my afternoon classes she wasn’t in them, but the teachers kept picking me to solve problems for the class. So many dirty looks, I was starting to think I was public enemy number 1. That thought was funny. “Mr. Gohan, is there something you like to share with the class?”
“No madame.” Great, just great.
Homeroom again, and I was tempted to find a different seat than this morning. But Erasa stopped me in my tracks, and called me over. During homeroom I found out a little bit more about my classmates. Like how Sharpner was in a sports club, and Erasa is part of the spirit committee. And the Videl was part of the Martial Arts club. So, she’s a fighter. Interesting. Wait, why do I find that interesting?
After school, while everyone went to their clubs, I took a stroll to the edge of town, before flying off. Today was a long day. As I flew home, I wonder what mom cooked. I might even ask for couple more helping, to make up for not eating lunch. And if not, I could always fish if I’m still hungry. Mom hates it when I do that sometimes, but I just can’t help it. Sometimes I would be extremely hungry, that not even her cooking fills me up. Sometimes I wonder if that was how it like when mom and dad first got married. It probably took mom forever to figure out how much will actually fill dad. That’s a funny thought.
When I land home, I’m ambushed by my kid brother. I’m so weak from hunger, I can’t even fight back. Today I lucked out, mom did make all my favorites, but it wasn’t enough. Luckily mom didn’t mind making more. She even commented how I’m almost eating as much as dad. The smile she had made me feel slightly sad. We haven’t spoken about dad in a while. Almost like we avoid the subject all together.
After dinner, I went to start on my homework. It wasn’t so bad. While doing homework, I found myself wondering what type of fun stuff will happen at school. Even though, today was my first day, tv shows and books always made high school seem like some type of adventure. I hope it’s true.
…
As I was training, the guys seem to be making a lot of giggling noise. So, I stopped what I was doing, and went to go see what they were doing. When I reached them, they were all holding some type of book. I looked over to one of them more closely, and then I realize what they’re reading. And with that, I walked away. My curiosity was fulfilled and now I regret it.
Why did it have to be that? I tried getting back to my training, till Olibu walked over. He gets on the ground, and joins me in doing pushups. At first, we’re silent, till he ask about my wife. “What exactly is there to say? She’s absolutely perfect to me.” He goes about asking about if she’s hot, and how she looks. I was starting to get annoyed with these questions. “Why do you even want to know? It’s none of your business to know how my wife looks.”
“It’s nothing bad Goku. I assure you. But the face of disgust, when you saw what the rest were looking at, had me curious. That’s all.”
His answer just made me angry. I sat up and looked at him. “Again, what is it to know how my wife looks? And why does it make you curious that I gave a disgust look?”
“If you gave such a face, than your wife must be one hell of a beauty. Let’s face, we were all married men before we died. And we all considered our wives beautiful. But even we get bored of the same thing. And those magazines sure have some beauties. So, how does a guy like you, be so loyal to one female, and not at least look—”
I had punched him across the field, and gave the other guys an angry glare. They quickly looked away, and I walked off. How dare he say such things? How dare he compare me to every other guy? I only have eyes for my Chichi. Of course, I’m loyal to her, the same way I know, she is loyal to me. Why do they keep insisting that either her or me should move on? We’re not like that! Chichi would always wait for me, and I will always for her!
Memories of that Li guy pops to mind. Chichi told me how he always tried to be with her. How a lot of men tried to have her hand in marriage. But she denied every one, because of our promise. Because of the promise we will be married. Even though it was a mistake on my end, she took it to heart. That alone proves her loyalty to me. She could have easily forgot our promise, like I have, and she could have married anyone else. She could have married anyone else, other than me. That thought alone had my blood boiling.
My Chichi could have been someone else’s, and I wouldn’t have known. If she never came to the tournament? What if when I went in search of her scent, and found out she was married? What if when I did and she told me about the forgotten promise? What would I have done? Would I have challenged her husband, for Chichi? I probably would, maybe even tried to kill him. I might not understand why I had those feelings, but sure as hell I would have done everything to have Chichi. For Chichi I would kill.
I tried getting into train. I needed to calm down. When I was finally calm, did King Kai came over to me. He was asking what happened, and I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. He did insist that I need to learn to better control my temper. That slowly I’m slowly behaving more uncontrollable sayian, than the good nature sayian he first met. “Then tell them to leave my personal life out of their mouths.” With that he gave me one more look, and walked away. And again, I felt my rage building. I tried focusing on training again.
…
The rest of the month went by pretty fast. I kept mostly to myself. During class I would get bored, but it was ok. I felt I was actually understanding the main concept of each class. I even started asking for extra credit assignments. Thankfully, the teachers agreed. During lunch, I spent that time on the roof. I rarely spoke with Erasa, Sharpner, and Videl. Maybe during homeroom, but most of the time I was focus on class.
Well, so I like to tell myself. In the two classes me and Videl shared I would sometime look her way. Not the actually seeing way, but the ki sensing way. Sometimes when I do that, I would feel her eyes on me, and so I would stop. When I did, she stopped staring at me. I found that weird, but left it alone.
Then came summer vacation. That was a complete blessing. Not only did I end the year with the highest score, even though I started late, I, in a way, made friends. Well, sort of friends. They were the only three that I talked to the most. So, I guess you can say we’re somewhat friends. Also, this guy Mark. Guess 10th grade went pretty well.
Summer was pretty fun, yet it felt short. I was finally allowed to sleep in again. I didn’t have to wear long sleeves anymore, too. I was even allowed to just be in my underwear, now that was awesome. Plus, a dip in the lake was like the highlight of my summer. Goten didn’t bug me as much, but I still annoyed me time to time. And we did have fun. Also, during the summer I grew even more, and I got a new haircut. So, the summer was pretty fun, in its own right.
…
Gohan sure acts weird when he gets home. After dinner my baby goes to his room to do all that homework. Why does the teachers give him so much? I asked him, and he tells me that he asked for it. Saying how he wanted to do as much extra credit as possible. My baby is incredible. Just like his father. Always liking a good challenge, and taking more than what is expected of them.
Summer is finally here, and Gohan is way too happy to be out of school. He does a lot, so I should let him enjoy his summer. I try not to ask for too much. Even though, I hate relying on dad like this, it at least helped me with the boys. And I’m so grateful that Bulma is helping pay for Gohan’s schooling, and is even helping with Goten’s. I really don’t know what I’ll do without her.
As I let Gohan enjoy his day, me and Goten heads to Bulma’s for a playdate. Krillin is even bring Marron along. This is so much fun. Watching our kids play together. I do wish Gohan had this growing up, but at least Goten has it. And Gohan is doing everything to make me proud. But I do hope he’s also doing it for himself. He deserves his own happiness, too. He’s still a kid after all.
…
Summer is finally here! Gohan is home the whole day! But mom doesn’t want me bugging him. But I can’t help it! I got my big brother back for two whole months! We played in the lake. We played endless ninja tag, and hide and seek. Mom even made all our favorite desserts. We was even allowed to drink soda, and eat junk food. The summer is fun when mom doesn’t try to make us eat healthy all the time. We even got to stay up to watch all the movies we wanted.
Trunks would visit sometimes, and bring his video games. And mom doesn’t complain if we stay past our bedtime playing. She only complains if we don’t keep my room clean. Me and Trunks would even do prank calls, since there was no bedtime. We even ate all the cookies, when mom wasn’t looking. Gohan would then try to catch us, for not leaving him any. And Gohan would get in trouble for shooting ki blast at us. Like mom says, he should know better since he’s older.
But the few times he ate the last of the mom’s pies, I would get so angry. I even threaten to destroy his summer assignments. And he would give me a nuggie, till mom comes save me. “But he started it!” Mom just tell him how I’m younger, and should be nicer. That’s right. Don’t eat the last slice next time.
But the times mom wasn’t another, me and Trunks had to play extra nice. That meant, if we broke something, we had to beg Gohan to not tell mom. We would do anything, and he would make us do his chores. One time he made me and Trunks bring him snacks while he was studying. And he got first dibs on what to watch on tv. It’s a good thing he liked cartoons. Unless, he was in the mood to watch the boring news. “Stop being a grownup, and put on the cartoons. The superhero one is going to start soon!” That one is our absolute favorite. We almost had every figure of our favorite characters.
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The Second Coming of Jesus Christ
Note: Colson Lin’s Twitter profile has exactly 181 followers, which will be relevant. He recently used a different profile he created for his project to follow himself. Before these tweets, he had 180 followers. Please remember that Colson Lin is a Yale Law graduate. All of the empirical claims he makes about his life story are true and verifiable by the media.
The opening of Colson Lin’s Twitter profile:
1.
The Second Coming of Jesus Christ is about to post Riddle 1 of 42.
It’s from God.
I know you don’t really want to die.
You just want the pain to be over.
I know you got tired of America.
I know it got hard to stay sober.
I’m going to blow your mind.
God is a woman.
Infinity?
2.
Hey, traphouse vandal:
Or like—
Try to help?
Jesus fucking Christ.
I won’t out you because I’m not a cult leader here to turn everyone against even a single one of you.
I’m literally here to help.
[Note: The above tweet was written at 4:44 AM.]
Oops?
Truth hurts.
—Lizzo
Nothing in the Universe is more Powerful than reality. Reality has a trick.
Reason.
Reasonable beings use intelligence to attach to reality.
Oh the cords get tangled for all sorts of bad reasons (Power!), but those bad reasons are smaller than Reality.
With time, Truth bites.
To be fair [to the traphouse vandal], I didn’t click [your profile].
After I clicked, I was hopeful again.
Hope I click for you too, buddy.
3.
I’m gonna laugh at the media if they try to bury the next few tweets in obscurity after I email them an outline of my philosophical postmodern-art project that challenges the status quo, by an LGBT child of working-class immigrants with a perfect SAT score and a Yale Law degree.
Don’t worry.
Y’all are off the hook for now.
I haven’t done it yet.
But pretty soon after I do?
I’m going to publicize the recipients in this thread.
Sorry for being a living, breathing 21st-century icon.
4.
I just realized.
Shared power means at least somebody should be verifying my work.
Given that I’ve apparently scared the fuck out of 99% of humanity so that nobody wants to engage with me…
Can the NSA just do it?
(Y’all establishment-media types—y’all trust them, right?)
💍
I am happy to communicate with any world leader through text or email.
Y’all know how to find me.
Hell, let’s hop on Zoom.
It’ll be a quick century.
Call me crazy.
But I’m smart enough to speak to you.
5.
@NSAGov
u up?
Here’s my phone number.
[Note: Colson Lin provides a phone number, but it is reacted from public view.]
Y’all can confirm every aspect of my life to check.
Don’t leak my phone number unless I do anything evil.
Y’all can go through all my texts and emails.
It really doesn’t feel fair to the rest of humanity, you know, for like one person to be this iconic.
And not famous.
lmao stoppp i’m literally just kidding y r u being so mean
I’m the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean?
When you gonna ditch that stupid ***** you got?
It’s me you should be seein’
Sorry y’all.
I censored the word Satan, because he’s my enemy.
6.
Here’s how this Twitter will proceed:
When I want something, I’ll ask for it.
Literally anyone with a Twitter account can tell me if I’ve made an unreasonable request.
DMs are now closed.
Our book of wisdom will be for future humans.
Don’t worry.
“I’m good with languages.”
Languages spoken or studied: English, Spanish (middle school and high school), French (college), Arabic (college), Chinese (you’re racist).
I’m only missing one to hit the UN six.
Haha.
Oh wait.
What are the chances… my brother Ilya is Russian.
Wise people who can touch powerful wisdom using wise storytelling can touch God.
By the way, for some reason unlikely coincidences seem to stack up around them.
I think those are called “miracles,” but can anyone google it and check?
Hey humanity.
That was my first question.
Don’t worry.
Because I’m a kooky guy, I’ll answer your questions with either tweets or little creative videos.
But if I answer you, I’ll have to delete 1 of my older tweets.
So ask wisely.
If a bot farm fucks this up for all of humanity, Satan wins.
(I’ll literally give up.)
Let me make an empirical prediction supported by logical reasoning:
The hardest time to take me seriously is when:
(1) I have no social power.
(2) The entire world isn’t talking about me.
(3) Your coworkers. Your mom. Your spouse. Everyone.
And yet so many right now still do.
I’m trying to prove here that God can come out of the elites.
God can come out of world leaders.
God can come out of federal workers.
God can come out of journalists.
God can come out of prisoners.
God can come out of international criminals.
I have hope, y’all.
Don’t kill it.
By the way, I will artificially up my follower count to 181 by making one of my other Twitter profiles for this project follow me when I’m not in the mood to talk, when I’m too busy hanging out with friends and living my actual life because—
lmao y’all
This Twitter is literally just a fun hobby for me.
I’m a writer.
This is the most provocative Twitter thread in human history.
Anyone inside humanity can verify it.
7.
If you believe I can channel God, then not a single person in the world can up my follower count.
If you do, I will wait for someone to unfollow me before I talk in public again.
I’m not the Anti-Christ.
I’m the Anti-Twitter.
(Which means I’m pretty sure I just became cool.)
You know—
180 people defended the Alamo. (“Is that true?”)
180 is a perfect LSAT score. (“Is that true?”)
Truth is like a circle of perfection.
Everything outside=Satanic
The first person to follow me and bring me to 181 followers will fuck up the Bible.
So don’t do it.
;)
In the spirit of the idea I just had tonight, I will announce a change of plans.
“A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” is a book that will now grow indefinitely.
But I will maintain the Twitter at meaningful numbers.
Which means…
You got it.
This Twitter self-deletes.
Does anyone know how to use Twitter search and take screenshots?
In the meantime, I have a riddle for humanity.
Do you have what it takes to survive?
Postmodernists vote “yes.”
Nihilists vote “no.”
Just kidding.
🤭 oig I'm like so funny
I’m never gonna reveal how to vote.
Yes
No
8. [Note: This is a lucky number in Chinese. Colson Lin was born in Shanghai, China. He is the illegitimate bastard child of China’s most iconoclastic philosopher whose writings had a significant influence on the Communist Party of China’s policy in the 1990s. The philosopher is married to a successful mainstream film director named Hu Mei.]
I’m, like, not a real person. I’m a fictional character on an HBO show called “A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” that tells the preposterous story of the bastard child of China and the favored son of America coming together to be the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. but—
So anyway—it’s May 26, 2023.
You know.
The day after Jesus 2.0 was born.
How’s everyone’s Boxing Day going?
Meritocrats?
Y’all doing well? (I heard “Yale Law” and “LSAT” trended on Twitter today; random…)
You know what came out on Boxing Day half a century ago?
Google it.
My name is Colson Lin and I got a 1600 on my SAT, bitch.
But I’m gonna inch my number of videos and images up to 1610 before bringing it back down to 1600.
Because I’m from Houston, y’all.
The moon was your first international dynamite.
Beyoncé was your second.
“I’m your 3.”
Hey guys.
If I is 1.
II is 2.
What does 111 stand for?
9.
Tomorrow night on “A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite”:
The Second Coming of Jesus Christ watches a Netflix show called “Beef.”
It was the first time he has seen so many Asian-Americans.
He has thoughts.
“They’re flatter, fewer-dimensional renditions of the people I’ve met and know. God’s coming out of all of them except the Satanic elite Wal-Mart lady (but I’m only on episode two). Wow. I bet when she and her Japanese husband are bored, they’d watch HBO’s A STICK OF DYNAMITE—”
Tomorrow.
Only on HBO:
“A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” found God by breaking the meta.
It’s the show that doesn’t make sense for anyone in Netflix’s “Beef” to have known or heard about.
Because it would break the meritocracy.
Introducing:
“The Lotteracy” by CL.
If you’re too impatient to see the HBO episode:
Read it in real fucking time.
Every Friday night.
Only on @dumatology.
A time-stable book about God, written on Twitter over the course of a summer (“The Summer of the Second Coming”) on Twitter, in 16 chapters.
Backwards.
💍
Spoiler alert:
God is trying to rise out of every tribe at the same time.
The results are Satanic.
Y’all need a leader.
;)
Do you want your leader to be Godly or Satanic?
Wait.
Does God exist?
Holy shit, you guys!
That tweet went up at exactly 2:12 AM on May 26, 2023.
Tell me something:
Am I just a really, really good storyteller?
Or can my brother Ilya see that I’m channeling all of this in real time, because K. from TH Rogers spontaneously texted me to recommend—
The Bible made God boring.
Postmodernity made God boring.
God is boring.
IQ Test:
Which of the above is true?
“A Stick of Dynamite in the American Elite” is bringing God back to postmodernity.
Yo elites—
Who among y’all ready to click on this video?
2023
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My first hyper fixation was Pokémon. Well, probably after animals in general. Anyways, some of you may know, my mom was very religious. She bought into the Satanic Panic of the 90s and made me throw away all my Pokémon stuff. I still really loved anime, and monster anime. I defaulted to Digimon, but it ended up becoming a huge part of my life because I socialized in the fandom online. I made fakemon before y’all had fakemon at Esse’s Digimon Adoption Agency. There were a ton of other websites like that. I also became pretty close with SarahJBAngel, and we used to text RP our Digimon OCs with others. One of my friends who I still talk too, to this day, I met on a Digimon-anime-autistic-fave message board. For some reason, out of her own ignorance, my mom bought into this criticism people kept giving her at church about me. People were not happy that I didn’t care about God enough and would constantly be drawing or talking about Digimon. “You’re just obsessed” (LMFAO) and y’all it got so bad I was humiliated in one of my classes because of this. For SOME REASON, I don’t think it was my school, but everyone had to abide by this rule my mom set for me. Probably as a punishment for something stupid, and because it wasn’t physical, she didn’t view it as cruel. Anyways, in 5th grade, we had an art project where we had to make puppets. I loved Guilmon at this time, and so I naturally made a cute little red dinosaur puppet. But I was told, “you are obsessed. You have to change your puppet. Your mom says you’re too obsessed” and this was a power battle I had with the adults in my life for a minute. Anyways, I cried miserably in class and changed it to a brown dog with ANIME EYES lol.
For some reason, Christian’s had it in their head at the time that anything from the east was bad because it referenced Buddhism or other concepts like evolution. Whatever. It’s racist and also insane. I battled a lot with people about anime, of all fucking things. It was the reason I started COMING online, because everyone in my church would put me down for my interests. And oooh, we have to make sure our daughter fits in. You can’t like Pokémon or anime, Daughter.
Eventually that came to an end and my mom calmed down but WOW I can see these sentiments coming back now. It never went away. I just have control of my life now because I’m not a child lol
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Following that "least favorite" request could we get their reactions to being to told that they're their favorite, but to not tell the other brothers so their feelings don't get hurt? Maybe because they relate to them the most or just get along really well. Thanks!
You're My Favorite! But Don't Tell the Others-
(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)
✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦
Lucifer
There are no words to explain the overwhelming satisfaction ion Lucifer’s face after you tell him that. Of course, it’s only natural that he would be your favorite, all things considered.
The Avatar of Pride won’t ever forget this moment. He carefully considers your words and agrees not to tell anyone, as much as he’d love to bring it up, because he knows more than anyone what kind of chaos would ensue should the others (especially Mammon) find out.
But they can tell something’s up when the eldest has been heard humming all day. He moves about the house with even more grace than usual, and hasn’t scowled even once.
But the REAL shocker was when Mammon tried hiding a bill right as Lucifer walked in... and the eldest let him off with a warning. A WARNING! The brothers thought the Devildom must’ve frozen over, but you and he knew different.
“MC, I would like you to accompany me to Le Pluvier this afternoon, once you've finished your studies. I've already made reservations, so be sure to get ready on time. I've made sure to consider the things you might like to eat, so I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Don't be late." "...I'm grinning? I don't know what you're talking about."
Mammon
The gigantic grin on Mammon’s face is so bright, it could rival the sun. You’ve seriously made his day. No, his year. Actually, he’s pretty sure he could ride this high for the next millennia! There’s nothing in this world that could dampen his spirits right now!
He feels like he just won big at the casino! Of course he’s your favorite! He WAS your first demon, and now he’s gone and claimed his rightful spot as your number one! Good luck trying to keep him from saying anything. Mammon’s gonna throw it around in everyone’s faces for as long as he can milk it.
And you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he treats you after hearing that. Despite always calling you his ‘servant’ or his ‘human’, you’d think your roles were reversed. Mammon spoils you every chance he gets, buying you clothes and trinkets, filling the spaces in your room with the things he knows you like, monopolizing you completely until nearly everything you own is a gift from him.
Your words also help soothe that jealousy of his a little. Only a little, though. It’s easier to watch you talk to other demons when he knows he’ll always be your first man.
“Didja really have to stay after class that long? I know you were talkin' to that demon that lent you a book, but you outta ask ME for stuff! Tch... you're lucky I'm in a good mood today! But I guess I don't have to worry about some low level demon like that, seein' as I'm your favorite!"
Levi
Wait wait wait....Come again? Did you seriously just say what he think you said..? That had to be a mistake! Some kind of...uh..verbal typo! Because there’s absolutely, positively, NO WAY in all of the nine layers that he could be your favorite demon. And yet you still insist that you’re telling the truth, and Levi feels like he’s died and gone to heaven.
Red faced and stammering up a storm, Levi looks like he might die. Is it really okay for a shut-in otaku to feel this giddy? Seriously, he hasn’t felt like this since he got his hands on a signed copy of a Ruri Hana audio drama! No no, this definitely beats that!
You’ve managed to inflate his nearly nonexistent ego, and now he feels like there’s nothing he can’t do! Maybe he could even go to Majolish right now?? THAT’S how good he’s feeling!
Almost as bad as Mammon in keeping it a secret. He doesn’t tell anyone right away, but they’re suspicious when they notice how much time he’s spending out of his room. And then when he and Mammon get in another petty argument, he drops the bomb that he’s your favorite demon in the entire Devildom, and you can guess how things go from there.
“Uuuoooo...!!!!! I've decided..! Since I've got a serious stat buff, I'm going to open a booth at the next convention coming up..! I'll sell my Ruri-chan fan art and spread her influence all over the Devildom! I'd never have the guts to do it normally, but I feel like I could do anything right now! Y-you'll go too, won't you MC?"
Satan
You nearly made this man spit tea all over his book, and now he’s coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out what could’ve prompted what he’s taking as a confession. You.. do realize what you’re saying, don’t you? And you know the kind of effect your words have on him?
Satan isn’t the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, so you have to look for his subtle expressions to tell how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing subtle about the redness of his ears and how he’s begging you not to look at him right now. For the sake of his sanity, give him a minute to recoup.
When he does recover, he agrees to keep it a secret for obvious reasons. And it’s hard to tell that he’s in a good mood, other than the fact that he hasn’t tried to pull any pranks on Lucifer lately. But Asmo sees all, and literally hounds him into spilling the tea.
He tells him a lie of course, but now the other brothers are noticing just how happy he is. Satan's smiling way too much today, isn't he? And he didn't even get mad when Beel got whipped cream on his jacket! Well, not THAT mad, anyway.
"Haaah... everyone's been harassing me all day, claiming I'm smiling a lot. I'm sure I look the same as I always do, but I'll admit that I've been happy ever since you told me that this morning. Wait.. you did think I've been grinning too, do you? I have??"
Asmo
Asmo always jokes about being your favorite and announces it as if the two of you are married, but when you actually confirm that his longing for you isn’t one sided, he ends up smearing lip balm across his cheek in shock. Did you... really say that just now? He knew it all along, but hearing it like that is just...!
Ooooh, he’s so happy he can hardly contain himself! Asmo throws his arms around you, peppering your face in kisses until you feel sticky from lip balm, wipes your face clean, then marks it up all over again. Good luck getting rid of him, because he might never let go.
Immediately posts it to Devilgram. Did you really think he’d let such a momentous occasion go unannounced? You must not have been paying attention to the kind of person he is! Asmo would put you on a pedestal in front of the world like a precious jewel if he were able, but this’ll have to do. He won’t hide his love at all!
Of course, the others don’t take too kindly to it, not that he cares. He never leaves your side, pampers you like crazy, and has even attempted to get you to move into his room. Lucifer put an immediate stop to that, though. Boo...
“I just can't get enough of you, MC! Just being near you gets me so excited that I can hardly stand it! You'll take responsibility for what you're doing to me, won't you? And in exchange, I'll take my time showing you just how much I love you. After all, you're my favorite, too!"
Beel
Beel never has a problem with choking while he eats, and it comes as naturally as breathing. Unfortunately neither of that applies right now, since you just made him choke on a meatball sub.
He usually takes your words with quiet acceptance, but this might be the most emotion you've ever witness from the stoic demon. His eyes are wider than that time that laid on an entire gingerbread mansion, sparkling up with such deep emotion you wouldn't be surprised if he cried. Instead he softens up and immediately embraces you.
...And doesn't let go. Sandwich long forgotten, he's been carrying you around all day, and ignoring any questions or protests from his brothers. Also insists on feeding you throughout the day. The food tastes better when he can enjoy it with you, so why not just bring you everywhere?
When he isn't carrying you, he's following you around subconsciously, either close up against you like a protective wall, or just far enough that you're within his line of sight. As far as not telling anyone, he... tells Belphie immediately. It was an accident though, since there's not much he keeps from his twin.
"MC, I won a meal ticket for Godevil Chocolatier. Let's get something for dessert today. Ah, you can get as much as you want, too. I really want to see what things you choose. They might become my favorites."
Belphie
There's nothing in this world that can wake Belphegor from his sleep, unless he allows it. No loud noises, no amount of shaking or smacking, and not even dragging him around the house. But the moment you whisper that he's your favorite demon, the Avatar of Sloth is wide awake.
Hey, you're not just saying weird things to get a reaction, are you? Because if so, this is a new level of cruel. Yet you confirm that you mean it and swear him into secrecy, and Belphie tries his best not to show how happy he is. A smile keeps creeping up on his face that he struggles to force down. It's annoying...
As funny as it’d be to tell everyone the news, he's good at keeping secrets. Instead, you've noticed that he's been sleeping a little less that before. When he does take one of his hundreds of naps, he finds some way to be closer to you. He's even been seen sleepwalking to your exact location somehow-
It's hard for him to believe that you're not teasing, though. How could HE be your favorite demon here? Belphie doesn't do anything special to win you over, yet after everything he put you through, you like him enough to deep him your favorite?
"You're weird, MC. I mean... me? I won't deny that I'm really happy though, but I guess I'm in disbelief. You should spoil me even more until I believe you. Lend me your lap for a few hours, okay?" "...I wonder what Lucifer would think if I told him, heheh."
#obey me#obey me!#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date?#shall we date? obey me!#shall we date obey me#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me scenarios#obey me writing#obey me asks#obey me ask blog#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me belphie#obey me leviathan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor
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I come bearing a request! The Brothers with an MC who's really good at cooking and baking? Like, the stuff food blogs dream of. Master-level instagram pastries. Could compete with the chocolate guy if they put their mind to it.
👀 ooooo, I do love me some pastries-
(I know you have an *ahem* distaste for Lucifer, dear moot, so enjoy Lucifer acting like a bit of a dingus in his section!)
Lucifer
Oh, the human can cook. *insert asshole eyeroll here*. Great. Wonderful. Groundbreaking. That’s what’s got all his brothers acting like- what was that word Levi used? Simps? This human has turned six of the seven rulers of hell into a bunch of simps.
Sure, the human has near godlike cooking prowess. Sure, everyone looks forward to their day for cooking. And sure, everyone thinks the human’s pretty great.
Tsk, not him though. He’s a refined demon. Some silly food isn’t going to make him a lovesick fool… did he smell eclairs..?
Lucifer peered into the kitchen to see MC carefully taking a tray of eclairs out of the oven and letting them cool off on the counter. His favourite dessert… right there in front of him…
Due to not being a total moron, MC notices Lucifer and asks him what the hell he’s doing just standing ominously in the doorway. Lucifer makes up some bullshit excuse about reminding MC to do their homework and just leaves. Okay, game plan, he needs those fucking eclairs or he will spontaneously combust.
As he snuck into the kitchen that night, Lucifer took a moment to briefly wonder why he was creeping around his own house. He was the Avatar of Pride for pity’s sake! He could eat whatever he damn well pleased! Oh shit was someone coming- no? Okay, back to sneaking.
Lucifer crept into the kitchen, saw the eclairs, and all logic was thrown out the window. Time to eat!
“BEEL NO! NOT THE- Lucifer..?” “…” “…” “…you’re very talented, MC, do you mind making more of these?”
SOMEONE SNAP A PICTURE! THIS IS THE CLOSEST LUCIFER HAS GOTTEN TO BEGGING IN THE LAST THOUSAND YEARS!
Mammon
Ugh, stuck babysittin’ some dumb human, how lame…
As Mammon was throwing a “I’m broke and I’m stuck in a pact with a dumb human” pity party, the most heavenly smell entered his nostrils. Cooking… good cooking… was Barbatos visiting or somethin’? Nah, Lucifer woulda made a big fuss about gettin’ ready for Lord Diavolo. Huh, so what was goin’ on in the kitchen?
Huh? The human? The human can cook? Well damn, maybe this whole deal wouldn’t be so bad. Oi! MC! As payment for babysittin’ ‘em, he got to have an extra big share of- OW!
Did- did the human just hit him with a spoon?! Th-they can’t do that!
Apparently they fucking can. Mammon gets told to sit the fuck down and wait for the food like everyone else. He grumbles on the way to the dining room, but he can’t fully hide his excitement to try the food.
The food even looked pretty! How did they do that?! Magic. It had to be!
After everyone’s tastebuds were blessed with the heavenly substance that is MC’s culinary exploits, Mammon decides he needs to get on this human’s good side in order to receive more food! Maybe even find some way to make a profit or somethin’!
After weeks go by of trying to suck up to the human without looking like too much of a chump, Mammon eventually realizes… hey, this human ain’t so bad. They’re nice, they make him feel good about himself, they give him headpats… he’s really hit the jackpot here!
He’ll offer to help MC bake or cook, but beware, he will try and sample the food before it’s done. Don’t let him lick the spoon!!!
Leviathan
First thought? This human ain’t shit. Thought after seeing their food? WOAAAAAAAH! JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME-
He was unceremoniously cut off by Beel asking demanding seconds. Humph, fine, he doesn’t actually care about this dumb normie food anyway.
…well at least until Levi saw a little something something on TV that he just had to ask MC to try and make. He shyly knocked on their door and when they answered, Levi shoved the screenshot in their face and stuttered out a dinner request.
On the day MC was supposed to make dinner, Levi poked his head into the kitchen and tried to make it look like he was just standing in the same room as MC and not checking to see if they were making his dinner request.
Not that he’d blame them for not doing that… who’d wanna make some anime dinner for a yucky Otaku- OMG JAHSHSHABA THEY’RE MAKING IT! *fangirl squeals*
As Levi continues to commit the SIN of being in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, MC eventually just asks him if he’d like to help out.
“Here! Just keep turning the takoyaki.” “R-really? You trust me?” “Yes, Levi. You watched how they made it on your show, right?” “Yes! I won’t mess up! I swear on my honour as an otaku!”
All in all, it was a very cute bonding experience for the two. Now it’s a regular thing. Levi requests something for dinner or dessert, MC makes it, Levi helps out.
Satan
So, the human can cook. That’s nice. At least someone in this literally god forsaken house can.
He makes sure to thank MC every time they cook, then he makes sure to thank whatever deity is watching over him that Solomon wasn’t the human staying with them.
As the months progress, Satan realizes, he should learn how to cook better. I mean, Levi and Mammon were somehow both improving in their cooking endeavours, and if MC could teach those two, then he would be a breeze.
Satan walked into the kitchen and simply asked if MC needed any assistance with what they were doing. MC just slid him some garlic to dice and that’s how this mentor/student relationship was formed.
Satan was a star pupil, but Mammon and Levi weren’t above trying to sabotage Satan’s progress to get him to leave.
Here’s the thing, the sabotage worked, but it only worked once, and the two idiots didn’t stop to think that maybe they shouldn’t sabotage the meal they were going to have to eat later.
Well, cooking lessons continued uninterrupted after the ghost pepper incident…
Even when he’s ‘graduated’ their little cooking class, Satan’s always willing to lend a hand if needed. He also will slyly hand over some recipe books and cute baking supplies that he finds. MC should be prepared for lots of cat related things to come their way.
Asmodeus
The human can cook? Oh frabcious day! He’s saved from a life of his brother’s mediocre cooking! And the human’s so cute too! What a bonus!
Not only is the human cute, but their food is just so… aesthetic??? Pretty???? Omigosh he just has to get a picture for Devilgram!
For the first few months, MC’s relationship with Asmo consists of Asmo not at all subtly asking to take pictures of their food and post it to his Devilgram. Listen MC, his followers would just love it!
Being the saint-sheep they are, MC lets Asmo sit in whenever they’re making anything in the kitchen. And Asmo slowly realizes “hey, this cute human with the awesome food is actually pretty cool too!”
New Mission: Make the human fall madly in love with him so they’ll want to hang out more.
Whether the mission succeeds is up to MC of course. (I mean, I’m already smitten with him sooooooooo-)
MC offers Asmo a lot of the pastries they make, but the Avatar of Lust almost always declines. Listen honey, he’s on a diet- wait, don’t make that sad face! He’ll eat it! Look! It’s- it’s delicious…
Diet cheat day is now every day MC makes dessert. The feeling of bliss Asmo gets when he takes a bite out of anything MC makes is only second of the treats is second only to the joy he feels at seeing MC happy that he likes their food. It’s just so wholesome I can’t-
MC’s food Devilgram has almost surpassed Asmo in terms of followers and honestly- he isn’t even mad.
Beelzebub
Gasp! Lucifer finally got him the pet personal chef he’d always wanted! Thanks big bro! :D he’ll be sure not to eat this human!
On the first night MC was supposed to make dinner, Lucifer needed to hold Beel back from breaking into the kitchen to see what was causing that heavenly smell. It was, difficult… especially because Lucifer hadn’t slept in three days.
When they all sat down to eat, Beel practically inhaled everything and held up his half bitten plate for seconds.
We here at Stupid Headcanons incorporated recommend that MC have as many bodyguards as possible stationed around the kitchen at all times to ward off a hungry Beel. We don’t want him eating the ingredients and half-tempered chocolate.
A cinnamon roll through and through, he’ll eat everything MC gives him with a big ol’ smile on his cute little face. He’s not the best person to go to if MC wants advice or critique because the best thing Beel can usually muster is “it was really good.”
As Luke said in Lesson 5, Beel would make an awful food reporter. But we love him.
Similar to Levi, he’ll give meal requests on what to make for dinner. (At this rate, MC’s going to have to make some kind of list).
He kind of just waits by the door like a sad puppy whenever MC is making anything because he can’t get into the kitchen :(
Belphegor
The smell of freshly made chocolate chip cookies wafting through the house did reach the attic and it only fuelled his rage more. How dare the human win everyone over with cookies?!
After the attic incident, Belphie was won over with cookies.
Belphie just stands creepily in the kitchen doorway whenever MC is making anything and just makes shit really uncomfortable. Why’s he doing that, you may be wondering, well, he’s trying to calculate the energy needed to swipe the bowl of cookie dough and sprint to safety.
He never succeeds, mainly because once he gets to the bowl, MC already has the wooden spoon ready to smack him, so he just freezes mid-theft and slowly puts the bowl down.
“Oh my gosh, it says let the bread dough rest overnight? Let’s get a headstart and go to sleep now.” “Belphie what-” “I made a pillow Fort, come in. Let’s sleep.” “In the kitchen????”
How’d he make the pillow Fort without MC noticing? Years of experience. He’s trained in the art of- MC? What do you mean you can’t sleep right now and you need to get a head start on shaping fondant?
…he may have eaten the fondant while MC wasn’t looking… whoops… Beel may have rubbed off on him a little…
#Obey me! Headcanons#Obey me Headcanons#obey me#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date#obey me mc#obey me mammon#Obey me Lucifer#Obey me Leviathan#Obey me Satan#Obey me Asmodeus#Obey me Beelzebub#Obey me Belphegor
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between the lines | lee minho
𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔
✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:
In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.
✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader
✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans
✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k
✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.
Ah, Valentine’s Day.
Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.
You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.
“Hey, watch ou—”
The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.
Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.
“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”
The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”
Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”
A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—
“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).
Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.
“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.
“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”
“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”
Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.
It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.
But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.
Talk about a reality check.
As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.
“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.
What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.
“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.
Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.
“You said he’d be in here!”
“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”
You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.
‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’
A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…
“The library’s closing.”
You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”
A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.
“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”
“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”
“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”
You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.
Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”
You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”
“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”
It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”
He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.
You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”
He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”
That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”
“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”
You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”
Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”
“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.
“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”
You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.
Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”
Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.
To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.
Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.
“Looking for someone?”
Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”
“I—sorry?”
The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”
Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.
“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.
She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.
Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.
“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”
He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.
Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”
Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”
A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”
“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”
“Can I help you with anything?”
The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.
“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.
Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”
“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.
But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”
“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.
“It’s one of my favourite lines.”
The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.
“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.
As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”
There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”
You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.
“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.
“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”
Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”
Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—
“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.
“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”
The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”
“That’s because the due date is coming up.”
“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”
You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”
His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”
With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.
You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.
Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.
Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.
And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.
He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.
Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.
You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.
These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.
He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”
“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”
Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”
You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.
With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.
Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”
It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”
With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.
At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.
“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.
Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.
Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.
“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.
“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”
She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”
You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.
When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.
“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”
“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.
As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”
Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.
He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”
Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.
“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”
Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”
After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—
Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.
“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.
“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”
Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”
Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.
“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”
With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.
It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.
It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.
“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”
“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.
“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.
“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”
You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.
“Give me my book back.”
You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”
You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”
“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”
“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.
“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”
Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.
“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”
Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.
Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.
Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…
You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…
“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”
Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.
As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”
He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”
Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?
In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”
Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”
A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”
The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”
“Y/N—”
“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”
Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”
“Would you be happy?”
The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.
“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.
Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”
You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…
“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”
You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.
“It’s a very good poem.”
“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”
He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”
Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”
“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”
“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.
Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”
“Wh-wha—”
“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”
Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.
“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.
“Then why didn’t you—”
“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”
The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.
“'Again?'”
Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”
“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”
Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”
Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”
“A corner store card. With—”
“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”
He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.
“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.
“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”
“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.
“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”
He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.
“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.
“Wh—”
“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”
Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”
“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”
“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”
“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”
You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”
“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”
“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.
“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”
Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.
Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”
There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.
Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.
The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.
Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.
When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”
He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”
Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”
“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”
That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”
The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”
Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”
Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”
“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.
Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”
The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”
As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.
“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.
You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.
“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”
“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”
“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”
His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.
“Can it be a happy ending?”
#this took way longer than ryu anticipated#ryu is nervous and hopes you enjoy ㅠㅠ#part of this was just ryu being a self-indulgent english nerd too#also-new format!#tumblr's new update whoo#stray kids#stray kids au#stray kids soft#stray kids boyfriend#skz#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids minho#lee minho#lee know#stray kids angst#lee know boyfriend#bang chan#hwang hyunjin#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#seo changbin#han jisung#skz as high school lovers
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I had to put this somewhere as this has been living rent free in my head for the past week, so here it is:
Obey Me Brothers, and Their Preferred Sexual Positions/Kinks!
🔞 Minors DNI 🔞
This is written as headcannons and MC is Gender Neutral!
Lucifer:
Firstly, Lucifer is definitely a switch.
He's a dominant person normally, but during Guest Appearances he enjoys when MC whips him, AND he's always willing to call MC "Master" when it comes up
Next, when everyone was sucked into Levi's game, Lucifer skipped classes because Diavolo wasn't in that world and he enjoyed the freedom
SO!! This makes me think he has fantasies of slacking off from his work as he pleasures you 👀
Specifically: it gives him a rush knowing that he's purposely not working just to fuck you, with the possibility of getting caught any time!
If you fuck in his office, he's the dom, no question!
He is still a work driven demon, so it would take some time pushing his buttons to get him to that point of abandoning his responsibilities
You do so by teasing him or by playing the sexy aloof card to get him almost drooling
If you fail, the worst that would happen is he would dismiss you from his office and punish you later in the bedroom when he's finished.
But if you succeed...
Your prize (punishment) will be Lucifer's favorite position:
You splayed across his desk, papers scattered everywhere as he rails you!
He'll first lock the door to give you a "proper lecture," and the look in his eye would make your lovely areas heat with excitement
He'll have you bent over his desk, pounding into you while lecturing you
Throwing in some degradation and spanking as he pleases (and it pleases you)
He loves to hear you get loud with his name on your tongue. He wants everyone in the House of Lamentation to KNOW your his, and being fucked good in his office.
Its also a dare for anyone to try to interrupt the two of you and reap the consequences
I repeat: Purposely slacking off from his work to rail you is such a rush for him
Of course, he also enjoys being pleasured from you under his desk as he works too ;)
For the Bedroom: I think Lucifer would def have a bondage kink (you or him wearing it, it doesn't matter to him!)
He is responsible with the after care as well!
Mammon:
It's literally a character trait of his that he's greedy. I mean, he IS the Avatar of Greed!
He's also a Tsundere who gets flustered easily!
So, Mammon always wants more of everything! You give him a kiss on the cheek, he'll want one on the mouth.
"How do you expect that to be enough to satisfy the great Mammon! That isn't nearly enough" (of course he says this with a blush as his Tsundere self can't just ASK for another kiss!)
So you give him a kiss on the lips.
"More"
Then another.
"More"
Then some tongue action.
"More"
Then his kisses will wander to your neck.
"More. I want all of you MC. Every inch. I want you to be mine"
HOWEVER! He would never push you to do anything you don't want to do or aren't ready for!!
Now going onto his favorite position 😏
Its canon that he likes to have things easily without having to work, so he'd love it if you ride him from on top!
He loves where he can see as much of you as possible! He wants to take all of you in!
Mammon is very vocal about what he wants from you during your sexy time!
As for his bedroom talk, his tsundere self would normally beat around the bush when he's trying to be honest, but once he's in an intimate position with you, he'd be showering you with all of the secret thoughts and feelings he has of you that he'd normally hide!
His hands would wander every inch as he'd praise your body
He would kiss you where he could and tell you about how much he adores you
When you talk to him, he'd definitely have a praise kink!
Being lectured by his brothers all the time just gets frustrating to him, and even if it were consensual, he wouldn't prefer being degraded sexually because this is the moment when he's the most honest and vulnerable with you
(Though I'm not saying he wouldn't like it every now and then 👀)
If you told him how great he is, and how amazing he makes you feel, he would be THRILLED
He wants you to feel as amazing as you are
He would be vocal through the entire thing, but as for volume, even though he normally has a loud mouth, he'd probably keep it down as he wouldn't want Lucifer interrupting you two 😂
Mammon on top would definitely bring out his true demon form, and he'd get more bossy with telling you what "more" he wants from you ;)
Of course he would push for aftercare in the most tsundere way
"You probably can't walk after I made you feel so good, so let me get what you need to clean up" (Face RED)
He loves cuddles and for you to fall asleep on his chest :3
(He also totally drools in his sleep!)
Leviathan:
This Otaku would totally be into role playing xD
Would have you dress as one of his favorite characters (if you're willing)
At first he'd be so out of it trying to comprehend if this blessing of you in front of him is real life or not before ending up too nervous to do much at first.
So, you end up with a foreplay reward system as he plays his video games to comfortably ease into it!
The more he wins, the more action he gets ;D
From kissing, to groping, to giving him a blow job as he plays his games until he can't take it
Which leads to his favorite:
Shower Sex!
As Leviathan, the aquatic demon, he'd feel most comfortable (and feel like you have more privacy)
To him it feels like he gets to be closer to you
He loves to be able to touch you all over as you fuck
This boy is LOUD!!
"UUUAAAAAUUUGGH!!"
(This is canon, we all know this xD)
As for vocal kinks, this Otaku would probably love it if you used allusions to his favorite games in some sexy way
"Like Ezio, I'm great from behind and above"
"I know my way around the cleft of dimension, want me to show you?"
"Are you up for a little tactical insertion?"
He'd also love skinny dipping and fucking you in pools and lakes too for sure! ;3
You can clean up easily in the shower afterwards!
Cuddles!!! (You replace his body pillow! What a privilege!)
Asmodeus:
It is no question this man has a LOT of experience
He loves it every which way and more!
He's all for the Vanilla but LIVES for the kinky stuff
Praise kink to the GODS!
As long as you're admiring him, he is happy!
He doesn't need a scene set to get to business, he's ready to go anytime!
Which is why its more than likely his favorite sex is Public Sex.
He loves to share with the world the art of sex and the beauty that is the two of you in intercourse!
This of course would depend on your comfort! If you wanted to keep your sexual encounters private, he would oblige!
He's a pleaser!!
He loves admiration, and he loves sex, so as long as you're happy with how he's fucking you, and you're vocal about it, he is pleased himself!
Position-wise, I think whatever is your favorite is what he'd be ready and willing to do!
Basically any and every kink he loves, and is more than willing to be the top or bottom!
He can go for MANY rounds!
((@mogmoe drew their headcanon for what the brothers' tongues would look like while in their full demon forms and gave Asmo tentacle tongue so do with that as you will ;3))
(Sorry this seems kinda vague but I mean anything you can think of he's probably already done it and more, and enjoys every bit of it!)
Satan:
With how this man wants to be seen as an individual and not just a prior part of Lucifer, he wants to be SEEN during sex!
He's a dom! He can blush and act shy and all normally, but in the bedroom he is totally dominant!
Would definitely have some hot angry sex with you given his temper!
Pushing you up against a wall and fucking you stupid
Splay you across his book clad floor or toss you on the bed to rail you
But you always have to be looking at him!
"Who's the one fucking you right now?"
Loves hearing you say his name!
He'll kiss you every time just to taste his name coming off of your tongue
He also reads a ton of books, so this man has read his fair share about how to pleasure his partner properly ;)
No matter if you're on the bed or against the wall, you have to stay wrapped around him!
He wants to know how much you want him!
He'll deny you your orgasm to make you beg him and say his name
He'll eventually let you have your relief and loves if you'll hold him close as you do
Sweet forehead kisses after you both finish as he praises you
Proper aftercare! Whatever you need, he's sweetly obliging
He'll love to fall asleep in your arms! :)
Beelzebub:
First of all, this man almost never stops eating
He'll give you plenty of affection, but he'll usually be stuffing his mouth or snacking as he does.
But he's not neglectful! It's just his nature as the Avatar of Gluttony that he's always hungry!
So you play into this so that he enjoys the process as you get him in the mood 👀
Using whatever treat you like to eat, you eat it in front of him, but only have the smallest portion possible (for example, maybe just two or three pieces of candy)
Of course he'll ask for a piece, so that's when you'll hit him with "Oh I'm sorry Beel, but that was the last one"
Before he has a chance to get sad about it (or you can wait until he pouts since he's adorable) you offer to share the last piece
Naturally he'll want to share it
But its already in your mouth ;)
He'll shyly kiss you to get a taste of the treat off your lips
"So soft"
He'll kiss you again, but this time with a flick of his tongue
He'll make another remark, but this time about the taste of the treat
"I want to taste more"
Cue the tongue action!
If the treat is still in your mouth, prepare to fight to keep it
If it isn't still in your mouth, he'll explore every inch to taste what's left of it
This man uses his mouth muscles to eat pounds of food every day, so he is a fantastic kisser!
He'll get so invested in the taste of you that he forgets about the treat altogether
This is where it gets steamy 😏
He wants his mouth everywhere
On your neck
Your chest
Your shoulders
Your stomach
There's not much sex talk from him because his mouth is always busy on you, but he makes plenty of comments to compliment you and your body!
Eventually, he'll want to taste the best parts of you 😏
His favorite: having his mouth on your nether regions ;)
He'll get so invested that he'll accidentally transform into his true demon form
((@mogmoe 's headcanon for Beel's tongue while in his true form was large like the size of a cow's tongue, so I'm playing off that!))
If you're a person with a vagina, his large tongue will be pumping in and out to taste every inch of your walls/If you're a person with a penis, he'll suck you like a popsicle to get your juices, and you know he can deep throat with no issue
If you like getting your ass eaten, he'll do that too
All the while you hold onto his horns like handle bars as he works his magic tongue and mouth
He doesn't have a preference for how you talk during sex, but if you praise him, it would definitely make him happy and encourage him to do more for you!
If you want to get him off too, he definitely loves 69ing!!
It feels to him as if you're both sharing a meal together, but in a more special and intimate way!
Afterwards, he would be super sleepy. He'd pull you close and be like a very large teddy bear cuddling up to you.
(Though he would wake up later for some midnight snacks!)
Belphegor:
I can already tell you now: Lazy Fucking!
This man loves to cuddle as much as possible!
He'll sleep with his head in your lap, he'll fall asleep on your shoulder, he'll spoon you (little or big, it doesn't matter to him!)
If he wants to get steamy after waking up with his head in your lap, he'll start to work with his mouth as his face is already down there
If he wakes up with his head on your shoulder, he'll start lazily kissing along your neck
During cuddling, his hands will mindlessly wander. He may reach back to get handsy if he's the little spoon. Or he might grind on you a little while kissing your neck from behind if he's the big spoon.
But his favorite: lazily fucking you from behind
Laying on top of you, his chest pressed to your back, his hand intertwined with yours, all as his dick slowly pumps in and out of you
He would whisper sweet praises to you, maybe tell you about what he dreamed while he was asleep!
His other hand would help to assist with your pleasure.
He probably would be too tired for aftercare, but for you he's always willing to do it!
Of course more cuddling will follow!
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I dont know if it's obvious but I'm still kinda new to Obey Me! I'm in chapter/lesson 13, so if some of these seem OOC, please let me know! This is my first time publishing headcanons, or rather any of my writing in general, so let me know what you think!
#obey me#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me luci x reader#obey me levi x mc#obey me levi smut#obey me mammon x mc#obey me mammon x reader#obey me leviathan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo x mc#obey me asmo smut#obey me satan#obey me satan smut#obey me satan x reader#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel x reader#obey me beel smut#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me belphie x reader#obey me belphie smut#headcanon#obey me headcanons
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