#amanthy

[designowly]

PIENTHA AND AULIA BIRTHDAY

[ink-n-dragons]

Dragons WIP Chapter 1: Sighwel

ayyyyyyy look! the first chapter! prologue is here if you missed that and wanna read it!

taglist: @authorofemotion @accidental-spice @kanerallels @laughingphoenixleader @silverpaintedstars (hope i didnt forget anyone <3)

read under the cut! <3

The plan Amanthi worked out for Scythia and I didn’t work. Not because we got caught, or were too slow, or any of the things you’d expect, but because we had the wrong information for the price of the train and were turned away before we could even leave town. And then I had spent months sulking around the flightless shelter with old men who had never known what it was to be brave, and old women who sat around and told nonsense stories and spoke of hope they would never have, and too-nosy children without a memory of the parents who had abandoned them. I am all of them at once, I suppose: scared and hopeless and alone. The difference is that I’m going to do something about it.

Before Scythia left, she had convinced one of the shelter ladies to sew a leather sheath into the inside of each of my coats, and then she made me promise to keep my knife with me at all times. The lady who’d done the sewing didn’t remember a thing. Sometimes I thought it must be nice to live each day without any knowledge of the one you’d lived yesterday, but then I remember that I have things worth remembering. Now, kneeling on the floor beside one of the numerous flee-filled mattresses in the shelter, I carefully slide a set of small throwing knives into the sheath on the inside of my coat and strap the dagger Amanthi had given me to my thigh. Just the handle stuck up above my pants after I had pulled them on: I could easily unsheathe the knife if I needed too, but otherwise, nobody would know it was there. 

I stuff some food into the pockets of my coat, thankful again for the cold weather. The snow settling outside for the third time in three days, building gradually higher and higher, is an excuse to wear a thick winter coat with deep pockets. I can carry more food and conceal my knives better this way. 

Scythia had gone last autumn, leaving me to find my own way to the Absolved. East Wilten. Brenthew Street. I repeat the names in my head, determined to not forget them. Maybe Scythia can help me get through the testing since she already has. She will know what to do and not do, how to get into the Absolved, how to be important. All I have to do is get there.

Hastily, I slip out of the room where the other flightless are sleeping, my hand ready to unsheathe the dagger at my side. I make it down the hallway to the cellar and round the corner. Yesterday I had oiled the hinges to make sure the trapdoor wouldn’t creak; now the door opened smoothly. Dark as always, and freezing cold this time of year, the hard dirt ground and skittering rats of the cellar greet me as I climb down the ladder. Quietly, I reach up and ease the trapdoor shut and all the light is sucked away from around me. I reach the ground and stand there, shaking. My hands are still grasping the rungs of the ladder. People say that your eyes adjust to the dark, but not if the only thing around you is darkness. I can blink all I want, blink until I pass out, fall asleep and wake up again, live my whole life here, but I won’t be able to see any better than I do now. The darkness makes me dizzy. I can feel the ground beneath me, but who’s to say it’ll be there if I take a step in a different direction? I hate, hate, hate this. Faintly, I start to hear a set of familiar footsteps in the hallway above me. Someone—Hezia—is coming towards the cellar trapdoor and I’ll be found if I don’t hide. Why is she awake? Did she hear me? What did I do wrong?

I reach my hand out to the side shakily and feel along the wall, sliding my feet carefully along the ground. Something rough touches my fingers. I think it’s one of the barrels the wardens keep stockpiled away down here, probably filled with salt or wheat or something equally as important to the flightless living here. Below the first barrel, I can feel a second. There’s a little corner behind the stack of barrels and I crawl into it, the footsteps right above me now. I pull my knees up to my chest as the trapdoor above the ladder opens and light floods in from above. 

The ladder rungs creak under the intruder’s weight, growing slightly louder with each step down. I am frozen between the barrels, afraid to breathe. Hezia and I are close, but a little voice in my head tells me I can’t trust her to keep this secret. She is like a sister to me, at least more than Scythia ever was. Which isn’t saying much. Maybe it’s not even her, I reason with myself. But we have chased each other up and down the hallway above and I have crouched, hiding and snickering, in this same place before, listening to her searching footsteps parade overhead too many times to count. I know what Hezia sounds like when she is looking for me, and we are both aware that she knows exactly how to find me. 

The ladder rungs creak under her weight, even though she is slight and underfed like every other flightless here. I can’t hear her land on the ground, but the creaking of the ladder has stopped. I slide my knife out of its sheath, for the off chance that the intruder is not Hezia. 

Carefully, I pull myself to my feet and creep further into the forest of barrels, straining to hear where Hezia is at the same time. The trapdoor is still open, offering slivers of light here and there between the stacks of barrels. I try my best to stay hidden in the darkness. Not for the first time, I am grateful for the dirt floor muffling my footsteps. I am almost to the tunnel: it’s in the back corner, hidden by the newest barrels, the ones that wouldn’t be used or moved for at least a few years. If Hezia finds me before I make it out, I will have to try convincing her to leave with me. 

I hold my knife at my side pointing forward, the strange black blade absorbing any light that touches it. It’s perfect for this kind of thing: it will not betray my position by reflecting light or making any noise when unsheathing it. I don’t know what kind of material it’s made of, but it is utterly silent. I’ve tested it in too many situations: it does not reflect light, just absorbs it. It does not make sound, instead makes my own movements unnaturally silent when wielding it. It does not draw blood, simply drains its victim of life immediately after breaking the skin. I’ve often wondered if Scythia’s works the same as mine. 

I make it to the corner where the tunnel should be without Hezia—or whoever it is—finding me, but now I have another problem. I can’t move the barrels without making some kind of noise. I can convince her to come with me. But it’s Hezia. I am going to the Absolved, with their Goldenborn and Lleu-worship, with their abnegation of the dark-haired. Hezia, with her black hair and fiery eyes, would never fit. She would not come with me, and the realization is like a rock in my stomach. I don’t know what to do. If she finds me before I can leave, she might not try to stop me. But there’s always a chance that she would tell the wardens, and the wardens would tell the Justices, and the Justices would do Lleu knows what. I’ll just have to move quickly, I think. Push the barrels away and run the whole way to the train. Hezia’s always been faster than me, but maybe my desperation will give me an advantage this time. 

Suddenly, a harsh whisper comes from behind me, “Sighwel!” I turn without thinking, swinging my dark blade with the rest of my body. The point slices lightly—almost gently—across Hezia’s waist and she falls to the ground immediately. Her body thumps slightly on the cold dirt ground. It is suddenly completely silent; I can hear my heart mirroring the sound of her fall: thump thump thump. Hezia laying on the ground. Thump. My knife resting in my palm, neither bloodied nor stained. Thump. Hezia dead. Thump. I will be gone—I need to be gone—when they are sure to find her in the morning. Forcing myself away from Hezia, I push the barrels away from the wall, sobs rocking my body now and dizziness coming in waves. 

The tunnel gapes before me, more darkness before I can get to the Absolved. I almost turn to go into the tunnel, but then I stop. I will undoubtably be judged as a murderer if Hezia is found here and I am discovered to be gone. If I want to avoid unnecessary suspicion, I need to bring Hezia with me into the tunnel. I will carry her half way, then leave her. Not many people know about this tunnel. She should be safe. 

Safe? She’s not safe; she’s dead. But she’s not in danger either. I kneel next to Hezia and loop my arms under her armpits. Lifting her is harder than I thought it’d be. She is malnourished and skeletal from living at the flightless shelter, but so am I. I am in no shape to lift her, but if I don’t get her away from here and hidden, any possibility I have of a future with the Absolved is gone. Somehow, I manage to drag Hezia into the tunnel. I set her down and pull the barrels in the cellar back into place to cover the tunnel, enveloping us in darkness. Lifting Hezia is even harder now that I can’t see where she is, and I only manage to drag her a few feet down the tunnel before I collapse. This will have to be good enough. Nobody is going to look for her down here anyway: Scythia and I are the only people who know of the tunnel’s existence. 

I leave Hezia and stumble through the tunnel, growing more lightheaded the farther I go. The ground starts slanting slightly upwards and I keep pushing forward through the dark. The faint sound of a Corpse bird rings in my ears. I know I’m imagining it: birds do not live underground. But I killed Hezia, so maybe I deserve one. Corpse birds are an omen of misfortune, a symbol of justice for those who have been wronged and death for those who deserve it. I have seen them looming around the flightless shelter before: gathering in clouds over executions and prisons, resting on the shoulders of criminals and murderers, and ever-present in the wake of violence. 

Light is drifting towards me faintly now, a sign that I am almost out of the tunnel. Closer, closer, and then I am out in the snow and wind and sleet. The world is so white and cold that I almost overlook the Corpse bird flying overhead. It spirals gently down to my shoulder, its black claws gripping sharply onto my thick coat. I look at it sadly, examining the silver scales and black eyes. I whisper to it, even though I know it can’t respond. “Little Marwolaeth. It’s just me and you now.” 

[portraitowly]

PIENTHA GLENYS AMANTHI

[amanthyartsies]

Here’s is a info of my floof Bean Amanthis

#Hazbinhotel #HazbinHotelOC # Amanthis. #VictorianCrew #FloofBean

[a-chuffed-floating-panda]

No actual summary this time, this is from Jamyang's perspective that I couldn't fit in this chapter.

- - -

She clutched at her scrolls- regretting that she didn't bring her bag, and hid around the corner.

Sister Jetsun giggled, “You’re so silly,” she moved a hand up to the back of Amanthi’s neck. “I’m silly and awesome most of the time.”

Jamyang sees images behind her eyelids, of a younger Sister Jetsun and younger Amanthi, a grinning green-eyed man and a smiling amber-eyed woman.

Were they who she thought they were?

[now-come-inside]

𝕊𝕚 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕩𝕪 Non sempre in un rapporto sessuale bisogna utilizzare qualche sex toys. L’alternativa ai sex toys è senza dubbio la lingerie sexy. Indossando lingerie sexy si ha infatti la possibilità di ravvivare il rapporto e di mettere un po’ di peperoncino nei propri incontri sessuali senza eccessi di alcun tipo e senza forzature che potrebbero compromettere il feeling che negli anni si è venuto a creare con il partner. Scopri subito sul il mio shop la linea di lingerie sexy http://amanthy.com/?ref=766 🤫Pacco ed acquisto in anonimato 🤫 #Amanthy #amatisempre #shoppingonline #serateuniche #lingeriesexy #lingerie #sconti #benesseresessuale #babydoll #regaliperte #serateuniche #seratesexy #Nowcomeinside #sandyintrigante #Sandy♠️ (presso Arezzo, Italy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CMmmysrMQZT/?igshid=13b1gmkm5ljem

[angelaamanthy]

E adesso ho bisogno di una fiaba. Si... una di quelle storie romantiche piene di passione e poesia capace di strapparmi lacrime e sorrisi, sogni e illusioni. Ho bisogno di una favola che mi baci il cuore e lo inviti ancora a danzare. Che accarezzi il dolore della mia anima e la aiuti nuovamente a volare. Si... cazzo. Me lo merito, non immagini quanto. È giunto il momento di volermi bene e di non continuare solo a dare. Adesso ho bisogno di emozioni... di vita. Una storia di quelle belle che non finiscono mai, da continuare a desiderare. Una fiaba dal finale forse un po' banale, ma che mi faccia star bene. Una favola persa nel tempo in cui il bene prevale sul male e tutti vissero felici e contenti... con la sola forza dell'amore.

Amore Zero

[deliziedilisa]

Scegli la comodità... Scegli l'ambiente... Scegli la coppetta mestruale! Link cliccabile in bio. . . . . . #coppettamestruale #comodità #amanthy #àmanthy #benessere #ciclo #donna #mensile #donne #sangue #mestruazioni #mestruo #cup #mestrualcup #ovunquevuoi #sempreconte #deliziedilisa https://www.instagram.com/p/B9zmKP4qhTt/?igshid=dcuceq4i4huf

[ink-n-dragons]

Dragons WIP: Prologue

heyo besties!! this and all chapters i'll post in the future are first drafts of the WIP i've been working on since november 2021! i'm still trying to think of a placeholder title so for now i'll just refer to it as "Dragons WIP." and all chapters and parts of this WIP will be tagged under that too! lemme know if any of you guys wanna be tagged in future updates (no pressure)! <333

taglist: @laughingphoenixleader

(prologue--from Sighwel's POV--under cut)

Amanthi sat across from us, her crossed arms resting tensely on the tabletop. “Walk me through it again. Explain how you’re going to get to the Absolved.”

Scythia—my twin sister—was perched next to me, her fingers tapping her leg with anticipation under the table, her voice shaky, “In four days, we’ll start packing at midnight, finish in an hour, and leave by two o’clock. We’ll leave the shelter through the cellar tunnel and crawl through the fields till we reach the station.”

“Good. Then what?” Amanthi gestured for me to pick up explaining the next part. Scythia looked to me expectantly.

“Then we board the four o’clock train, sit in the back, and get off at the last stop in East Wilten. We find an alleyway when we get there and Scythia stands guard while I wash my hair dye out,” I gestured to my false brown hair, “So it’s back to its normal white color and Scythia will Shift her hair back to its natural blonde. Then we’ll find Brenthy Street and then the Absolved.”

“Brenthew Street,” Amanthi corrected me. “But otherwise, you got everything right. When you get to the Absolved, they’ll put you through a testing. They do this to filter out the Condemned and preserve the purity of Lleu’s servants. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Scythia responded. I echoed her answer with a nod. 

Amanthi studied us for a second, then put her hands over ours, trying to offer a little comfort. “You guys will be better than okay when you get there. You won’t have to worry about the tax and you’ll be chosen by Lleu.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out two knives. Both were the length of my forearm and made of a black material. The blade was smaller near the hilt, then grew wider, then slid into a sharp point at the end, in a sort of deadly. leaf-like shape. Amanthi handed one to each of us. “In case anyone tries to stop you.”

I took mine gingerly. Scythia almost dropped hers. Weapons of any kind were rare on Drakaen, usually limited to the possession of the Absolved. It was inevitable that those who were not Absolved would try to use knives like these for their personal gain, while the Absolved would only use them for Lleu’s sake. Amanthi warned us, “Only use them if you have no other choice. Having them before officially being judged as Absolved could ruin your chances.”

“Then why are you giving them to us?” I asked nervously.

She let the question hang in the air for a second before answering. “Drakaen is dangerous for the flightless, and even more so when those flightless are also not yet Absolved. Having them could also save your lives. You can judge this for yourselves, but I think it’s worth the risk.”

“It is,” Scythia said, her voice and her grip around the hilt of her knife stronger now. “C’mon Sighwel. We have to get back before they notice we’re gone.” She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up abruptly. Looking back at Amanthi, we nodded our thanks and left. She waved sadly at us as we walked out the door and into the night. Just four more days. 

[littlekyubiarts]

A Sherlock Holmes like AU artsie I did for fun. Here is the great Detective Pentious and Assistant Amanthis ready to solve crimes

[littlekyubi]

Hazbin Hotel OC

Name: Amanthis

Gender: Female

Human Name: Abigail

D.O.B : 1870

D.O. D : 1892

Sexuality: Aromantic Asexual

Info: Amanthis is a Reptilian Demon with dark fur with white marks. She specialises in fixing machines and designing gadgets and gizmos. Hence her overalls with a hat and goggles.

When she was alive Amanthis came from a wealthy family and lived in the Victorian era in London, England. Her parents wanted to act like a proper lady and marry a  wealthy gentleman. But she was more interested in building, creating and designing. So she sneaked out to work in her  secret workshop.

One day she was weldering outside her workshop but a spark flicked and accidentally caused a nearby building to set alight causing the residents to die inside. Though this was her reason being her sin to be sent to Hell she died from an illness a few months after the accident.

Amanthis would go in awe at any contraption she would have her eyes on. She would even compliment Sir Pentious’ blimp saying thing what an amazing work of art it is.

She harbours a secret crush but she keeps her feelings to herself by quietly giggling at her crush.

[amanthisthetinkerer]

Hello everyone, my name is Amanthis. I am a builder and repairer from Pentagram City. Every now and again I like invent things too.

This is my own personal ask blog. So if you like to know more about me just... Well ask.

"Ears twitch slightly".

Well don't ask anything inappropriate though.

That's it for now.. Take care friends.

[mammons-tax-returns]

HDJXKDKFF I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS BUT I NEEDED THIS PLEASE FORGIVE ME THIS WAS SO TIME CONSUMING AND FOR WHAT>> TO SATISFY MY DYSPHORIA/fA<>>A???

synapsis ; Satan and MC often discuss the plot lines of their favorite books, but this time, it’s a little bittersweet

✖️MALE MC✖️ comfort, kinda sad, fluff?

MC could practically feel the past few sleepless nights tugging at his limbs. He yawned into his hand. “I probably shouldn’t have pulled an all nighter last night, huh?” He chuckled a little to make light of the situation.

Satan sighed helplessly, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. “I told you this would happen. You’d better watch yourself before I force you to get proper hours of sleep.” His emerald eyes never left the pages of his most recent favorite novel series.  “Lucifer isn’t as worried for your grades considering you won’t be here for as long as us.”

“That’s true...  But even still, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Luci.” MC rubbed his eyes a bit before responding.

There was only a scoff in response from the blonde, along with mutters definitely slandering his older brother.

“But never mind that.  Wanna update me on your book?” MC grabbed his own book from the table to his side and took a seat on Satan’s bed.  He has learned from experience that Satan read books far beyond his comprehension level-- far beyond the comprehension level of some of the smartest demons as well.  But the plots are interesting enough that listening to Satan relay the insights to him has become a hobby. 

“Well....  Amanthy ends up saving the prince from the monster right in the nick of time, but get this;  the two of them don’t get married.”  MC finally gets to see Satan’s eyes when he looks up in mild excitement.  They’re blazing so brightly that it nearly burns him as he watches them.  This normally happened when Satan was allowed to rant about a book.

“Amanthy calls off the marriage because he didn’t think that the prince was strong enough to be with him on his journey.  I really recommend you reading this part at the very least.  Now that you know what’s actually happening in it, you can focus on how incredibly this author deepens the understanding of Amanthy and his intents.”

Amanthy...  Would you really end it all just like that?  MC found himself wondering.  It must have been the fact that MC projected him and Satan onto the two ex-love birds in the novel.  Amanthy was clearly a sophisticated book-loving mage similarly to Satan, and the prince was a simple man in a foreign world trying to figure everything out.  Just like MC being thrown into the Devildom.  Together, the two fought and travelled together.

As childish as it is, MC was hopeful that they would end up together in the end, just because of his crush on Satan.  And hearing the news about their wedding almost felt like a personal attack.

He can’t respond immediately.  “Oh.” He breathes, “That’s surprising...  I, uh.  Did not expect that.”  A small laugh.  How was he supposed to answer?

“I feel the same.  It was not hinted at in the slightest...”  Satan held his chin between his thumb and index finger.  “But I understand Amanthy.  I mean, looking at it realistically...  The prince had his sword, and even with the little magic he had, surely he could have fought the beast instead of waiting for it to kill him...  Amanthy is a strong man, and I’m not sure how well he’d hold up being with someone like that.”

“Hmm.  Interesting...  This whole plot was just one turn after another.  You really have an eye for good books...  The beginning of that story was a bit slow.” MC tried to seem as invested as possible.  But it was proving to be much more difficult than it seemed.  Although he knew Satan can’t be held accountable for something like this...  Does he really think that Amanthy was in the right?

There was a knot forming in the very bottom of his stomach.  So then, would he do the same thing in that situation?  Would he really drop me if he had to save me like that?

“The story certainly did pick up speed...  Even I was impressed.  But it truly added to the character development!  Amanthy is a smart man for what he did, and he’s really selling it to me.  I wonder if that shopkeeper from the last chapter will reappear...”  He flipped several pages back as if to see if it was hinted at anywhere.  “She looked like a better fit for our bookworm protagonist...  Or maybe he’s better off on his own?”

MC’s mood just seemed to be going down a never ending decline.  The shopkeeper?  Who was literally everything that he wasn’t?

Satan continued before MC could comment, “The prince was always a bit of a dead weight, I can admit.  There were times that I found myself criticizing him for little things, but never fully disliked him...  Although there was much more to him than his exterior, I suppose.”

Okay, now this was a full blown call out post for MC.  The prince getting called a dead weight for the protagonist?  Suddenly, MC constantly having to be reminded by Satan to sleep seemed a little more daunting.

“So that’s how you look at it...” MC hummed and buried his face in his book, careful with his phrasing and hoping that the intuitive male in front of him couldn’t pick up on his hurt.

“Of course...  How would you see it?” Satan leaned a little closer.

This man will be the end of me, and he won’t even know it.

MC cleared his throat and shifted a little out of discomfort. “I mean...  I guess I sympathize with the prince a little.  He hasn’t really gotten the chance to protect himself...  A-And that’s the first time he’s been left with such a powerful beast, right?  Just a few weeks ago, he was in his castle watching the knights spar, and now he’s here defending himself alone.” Don’t seem suspicious, MC.  You got this.  You can do this at the very least, can’t you?  “Amanthy had a good connection with him.  I can’t believe he’d just overlook that because the prince needs help understandably.  I mean, isn’t that what a lover is for?  To love and support?”

Satan’s lips tugged into a simple smile.  “Ahh, so that’s how it is.  I’m surprised you can pay so much attention right now when you’ve barely slept.  You could barely keep your eyes open earlier.” He playfully ruffled MC’s hair.

His affectionate touch stung, and his words stabbed deep into MC’s core.  He knew no harm was meant, and yet he couldn’t help but feel horrible.  Why couldn’t he just listen to Satan’s nagging?

“But your opinion is just as strong as mine!” MC added quickly, hoping that Satan didn’t think he was disregarding him.  “Maybe calling off the wedding was the right choice in the end...  After all, the prince was kinda shady in the first few chapters right?  Maybe he’ll prove to be the bad guy.”

Satan seemed to think it over for a moment.  “ I suppose...  But the prince is a bit more respectful than that, don’t you think?”

And now he’s defending the prince?  Make up your mind already, MC silently thought.

“Y-Yeah, I guess so...” Am I as respectful as him, someone of literal royalty? MC breathed out slowly.  Even if I am, what difference does that make, Satan?

Some time passed after that, and MC couldn’t get passed a single page in his book.  His mind was a confusing jumble of thoughts.  Some of them hoped that Satan would react differently if proposed the same situation.  And some justified Amanthy’s decision in a sickening submission to his situation.  His ‘situation’ is an inevitable unrequited love for Satan.  And now he’s aware that Satan probably wouldn’t consider someone like him as a spouse even if given the chance.  Great.

“MC?  If you’re tired you should sleep.”

The (H/C) haired male jumped.  He looked up to see Satan way too close for comfort at the moment.  He felt himself flush.  “I’m not!  This story is too interesting for that.”

“You haven’t turned a single page.  And you looked a little scary.” Satan chuckled.  “Is it Lucifer?  Is that rat stressing you for your grades?”

“Well, no...  It’s just,” Phrase this properly, please. “I’m all hung up on that whole marriage situation.  If...  If you had to make that decision, would you call off the marriage too?”

Satan had a look of shock.  “Hmm...  I guess I hadn’t considered that.”  He thought for a second. “I don’t think I would.  I may have chosen Amanthy’s side, but I’m not him.”

Geez, that’s a big relief.

“But what about you?  Would you do the same?”

Okay, now that was unexpected.  MC blinked.  “I definitely wouldn’t have.  You heard my piece earlier.  I wouldn’t leave someone just because they were incapable of things like that.”

...  Was that too much information?

“Really...  Interesting.” Satan leaned back into the cushions on the seat.  “It’s almost spellbinding how similar you are to him, and yet you two have such different ideals.”

“Yeah...” MC answered subconsciously.  “And it really--...  Wait.  Come again?”

How similar I am to Amanthy?  No.  I must have heard wrong.  It just doesn’t make sense.  There’s no way that he would compare me to someone as great as-

“I must have never mentioned it, but I tend to project the people I know onto storybook characters.”  He seemed a little bashful, as he couldn’t quite make eye contact with MC.  “Amanthy is a very selfless mage that happens to have a habit of staying up for days on end to finish his studies.  He...  He reminds me of you.”  A small tinge of pink crawled onto his cheeks. “Sometimes, it also feels like you’re the protagonist of a great story, too.”

MC was flabbergasted.  This conversation is hitting him harder than the actual plot of the book being discussed.  “Th-Then, who do you see as the prince?”  This wasn’t adding up.  He couldn’t imagine who it could be if it wasn’t him.

“Me, of course.”  Satan responded without missing a single beat.  “I hate to admit it, but as the youngest brother, I tend to...  Blow things out of proportion.  And the others say it’s because I haven’t experienced the same things as them.  I don’t quite understand it...  But I guess I really don’t need to.”  He looked lost in his own mind as he explained.

He continued as MC struggled to put everything together. “The prince was told many of the same things I have heard.  But I think the reason I relate to him so largely is because I also feel little out of place, as many of his monologues describe my exact feelings so often.”

“Out of place..?  Why is that?” MC’s words left his mouth before he could consider them.  “Err, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine.”

“No, It’s nice to get things like this off of my chest occasionally.”  He paused briefly. “I guess I’m just not used to someone understanding me quite like you do.  Don’t get me wrong, It’s not bad at all.  It’s just a bit...  Odd to me.  Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it.”

“Satan...  Of course you do.  Otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the time and indulged in the same things as you.” MC felt his heart throb.  Of course Satan would look into the story from a metaphorical stance rather than literal, like he did.  He was the one actually reading the pages, after all.  That’s just the type of person he is.  There’s no real beast in this story in his eyes.  The prince was just Satan stuck in his own thoughts.

“But...  Surely, this doesn’t mean that you thought I would have made the same choice as Amanthy, right?”

Satan hummed.  “You’ve got me unraveled under your fingertips, MC.  But you’d be mistaken...  I did.  But even if something like that ever happened, I don’t think I’d let you go quite as easily as the prince did.”  His smile had hints of mischief in it.  “You’re stuck with me.”

MC’s eyes widened a little.  There was so much information to take in at once.  “Well...  Rest assured, then?”

“Agreed.”  Satan nodded. “I’m just hoping you won’t get fed up with having to constantly calm me down before a wreck a building.”  He laughed, but it seemed sad, in a way.

Ahh...  So that’s just it.  Satan was insecure about something that I don’t mind helping him with a thousand times over.  MC found himself smiling.  Demons were much more similar to humans than he thought.

“That’s a bit cute, Satan.”

“What’re you on about?”

MC reached over and pat the top of his head in the way he knows he enjoys it.  “I wouldn’t let you go so easily, either.  I’m not Amanthy, and you’re not the prince.  You’re gonna have to try a little harder to get rid of me.”

Satan was frozen in the spot.  He suddenly understood what Levi’s shows would describe when they said, “time seemed to slow, and nothing else mattered other than him.”

“I don’t think I’d ever dream of it...”

For the first time ever, he felt as if he was receiving his very own happy ending in his own novel. 

[now-come-inside]

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[whiver-wyverncat]

Behold! The post explaining Amanthis!

They are a soulless being with a body made out of a black/really dark red liquid

Due to their liquid body, most attack don’t affect them, and can shapeshift

The only thing stopping them from killing everyone...

...is a little red kitty named wildcat (my avatar)

The reason behind this is that a. Wildcat made Amanthis so they have someone to have around and b. Since Amanthis is made entirely of a liquid, they need a constant supply magic in order to survive, and wildcat is where the majority of their energy comes from. because of this, wildcat has (almost) complete control over them

Stealing her soul is out of the question too, cause she will just cut off amanthis’s power supply (just enough so that she stops what they were doing and collapse into a puddle). So they just have to hang around this cat who does nothing but play games and watch YouTube

Oh, also amanthis’s transforming ability is limited to wildcat’s imagination, they can’t make any new forms on there own, they’re favorite is a human with dark skin, dark hair, and... basically dark everything partly because that form was made specifically for them