#this is way too much of a coincidence

[neversetyoufree]

I think this point got a little lost amid the general fandom glee at Dominique and Vanitas bonding (or at least it did for me), but looking back at chapter 60, the implications that this scene has for Vanitas are fucking wild.

It's not the only aspect of her relationship with him, but a huge cornerstone of Dominique's feelings toward Noé is the fact of her absolutely massive crush on him. Like, as much as she's venting about how he frustrates her, Dominique's thoughts on Noé in this scene are the thoughts of a woman that is canonically in love with him. And Vanitas apparently thinks/feels the exact same way.

As their shared venting reaches its fever pitch, Vanitas and Dominique both reach the exact same ending point. Noé is stubborn and overly straightforward and unrelenting, and both of them feel helpless against it. And they say as much!

They say as much, and then they both cut themselves off and flinch away in the exact same way, as though they've said too much. They've revealed some deeper truth about their feelings and the ways that Noé's force of personality affects them.

Dominique reacts this way presumably because she touched a little too close to the reality of her romantic feelings for him. The thing cut off at the end of "Since he's like that, I—" is some expression of the depths of her incredible fondness for and attraction to him. And Vanitas apparently feels the exact same way as Dominique. He expresses almost the exact same outward sentiment and catches himself and flinches in the exact same way. So if Dominique is speaking here in (albeit frustrated) love, then what emotions is Vanitas speaking from?

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Ride (Chotun Puttipong) is just an anonymous delivery driver. His helmet, his headlessness, even his name all alienate him from any personal identity. He is simply the labor he provides and nothing more. When Tarnsai (Jennie Panhan) cares enough to appreciate his work (that he would drive late in the rain when others weren't willing) and offer him a cup of coffee (a gesture that has more personal meaning rather than just the money he's earned) he removes his helmet to reveal a face, a real human being, that Tarnsai can form a connection with.

People often misunderstand Marxism as anti-labor, when it's chief concern is actually the dehumanization of the people who are laboring. Peaceful Property is so profoundly interested in remembering the human lives of forgotten laborers. They had struggles and loved ones and dreams and faces. They dreamed of better lives, of homes they could go to when all the work was done. But it's not just the ghosts. Look at how the team had to investigate through pages of renters' names to find Tarnsai because the landlord had no relationship to the tenets. Marxist alienation is about the loneliness everyone can feel when we're limited to these empty commodified relationships.

[anistarrose]

My current version, of my ever-evolving theory, on what constitutes "aromantic stories" is that first off, there's absolutely a wide spectrum between 1, "this is explicitly undeniably about aromanticism," and 2, "there sure is a noteworthy amount of aro subtext, but representing aros clearly wasn't the author's intent." But the spectrum is best completed not as a straight line, but as a triangle, where the 3rd point is "the story probably wasn't created with aromanticism at the forefront of anyone's mind, but was created with subverting particular expectations related to romantic relationships in mind." And in my experience, a lot of juicy aromanticism-related experiences that are underrepresented in their own right can lie in that third option, regardless of whether the characters are aro-spec or allo or kind of whatever you headcanon.

So, what does make a story on this spectrum "aromantic?" IDK, I wouldn't necessarily include all or most of the firm 2s (unintentional subtext) under the aromantic story mantle. But when you get into the gray areas that inch a little closer to 1 and 3, let alone the gray area between 1 and 3 where intent is ambiguous but ultimately may not matter, it makes sense that different people will have different takes.

[littlelightfish]

I realized that Maizuru, despite being with Kabru's party for a while, still gets Holm's race wrong.

At first I thought it was kind of the joke of the whole thing. Calling Marcille a frog woman, Holm a dwarf, and getting Rin's name wrong. Holm looks tired, annoyed or maybe a bit embarrassed by this mistake. He's the only one who's background is not "explosive". Marcille's and Rin's are, and his is just plain, dark, and with those lines at the bottom. Why? Maybe for comedical effect. Probably because he's been telling her he's a gnome before this. Just like Chilchuck doesn't like being called a kid and people still call him that, Holm doesn't like being called a dwarf and people keep calling that.

It's not uncommon for people to mix those races, and since Shuro's party isn't the best with races (they don't even know Chil's a half-foot) they probably just think Holm is a wierd-looking dwarf. They probably hadn't seen any gnomes before. If it was Maizuru's first time seeing a gnome and calling it a dwarf, it could be understandable. But she's been with kabru's party long enough to realize that that dwarf is, actually, a gnome.

I think she doesn't believe Holm is a gnome, just like Marcille or Senshi don't believe Chil's an adult.

That's the face of someone who's tired of this shit. It's like when someone tries to guess your country just by the way you look. There's maybe a bit of ignorance at first, but I think Maizuru is deliberately deciding to not believe Holm when he tells her he's a gnome for the first time. And he's so done.

[lordzuuko]

“Return my cross or else I’ll kiss you senseless.” “Guess I won’t be returning it then.”

I had to get it out of my system or else I will not know peace. XD Trigun Stampede has taken over my life and Vashwood just slapped me in the face. Print  

[greatalastoraltruist]

So we know Alastor and Lilith disappeared at the same time 7 years ago. And we know that Lucifer had a meeting with Heaven which began the exterminations. We don't know when that happened though. Either they're not mentioning when the exterminations started because they've always happened or because revealing when they started would give too much away and make it too easy to guess things. All Charlie knows is that Lucifer went to the meeting and she assumes he gave the go ahead for exterminations. But the exterminations haven't always happened. They only started after the angels, or specifically Sera I think considering no other angels knew about it, became afraid of the power and influence Lilith had over the demons.

My current theory is that that meeting was called between Sera, Adam, and Lucifer because Alastor and Lilith were planning on working together with him broadcasting her voice on his radio station to inspire the other demons to rise to war against the angels. I think Sera demanded that Lilith and Alastor be separated with Lilith making a deal with Adam to stay in heaven where she can't empower any other demons with her voice or even contact anyone in hell and that Sera demanded the exterminations happen as well in order to not only lessen the demons' power but also instill fear in them in an attempt to prevent future uprisings. I think Alastor was given the options of either be killed or sign a contract limiting his power and requiring him to stay away for a while so that their little idea of rebellion is forgotten amongst the masses. I especially think that because of Zestial's comment about folks thinking Alastor had fallen to holy arms. Maybe Sera is his contract holder. That or they tried to straight up kill him and he somehow escaped barely alive and it's taken this long for him to heal and regain enough power for him to feel comfortable revealing himself to society. But trying to kill him wouldn't explain the contact or his need to 'unclip his wings'.

[here-comes-the-moose]

Ummm… so what does it mean if someone looked at over half of their family members (most of which are on one side), themselves included, and have thought “oh that sounds a lot like Tech or like something Tech would do or gives off Tech vibes”?

I’m not asking for a friend.

[cutter-kirby]

I’m really starting to think arthur is actually cursed or something cause as soon as he cared about daniel, he died. both the kiy and kayne mention arthur’s proximity to death and how everyone he’s ever loved has died and the fact that those two are cosmic entities implies to me that this isn’t a sad character backstory thing but an actual threat. I swear the second john gets a physical body he would keel over in the family guy death pose because of arthur.

[logicheartsoul]

This Sam with this Bucky

[seaweedstarshine]

Thinking about the convolution of Eleventh Doctor's expressions of love for River Song in Season 7B. He does not trust Clara. He is utterly (wrongly) convinced that he and Clara are playing a grand manipulative game together. “What are you, eh?! A trick? A trap?!!”

So naturally, the last thing he should do in this game is to clue his opponent in on something that could be used to hurt him. Something like River, so painfully near the end of their time together, whose data ghost he can always see, who “it would hurt too much” to acknowledge. He can't let Clara know of the loss which constantly floods his senses; (“You are always here to me. And I always listen, and I can always see you,” he professes, once Clara has vanished into his timestream).

And yet. River fills his every moment (irregardless of any sneaking out for dates with increasingly-young Rivers while Clara is asleep like he did while the Ponds slept, which would explain his absence when the TARDIS is hiding Clara's bedroom). Even though it's not strategic, he can’t help but tell Clara about her. The best defense he can manage is to phrase it as if River isn’t as important to him as she is. Not only is avoiding her first name in his grief; he's also completely avoiding pronouns; which seems extreme given that he's still mentioning her as often as: “Oh yeah, of course he has! Professor Song! Sorry, it's just I never realized you were a woman.”

Leave out the emotion — leave out the details — don't show the cracks in the armor — play the part — win the game.

“Well, there's no point now. We're about to die. JUST TELL ME WHO YOU ARE.”

[thefirstlioveyou]

Am i the only one that doesn’t think the blue and yellow theories are “crazy” ??? Like it’s very common for shows to color code their characters/ships 😭

[mushtoons]

so ramen said they made a cup of ramen thats microwave friendly and im like??? they weren't always? and apparently not but like i have the cup ramen that IS SUPPOSED TO BE MICROWAVABLE AND ??!??? IT FUCKIN EXPLODED AND IT BURNT THE CUP SO BAD MY HOUSE SMELLS LIKE ITS ON FIRE AND TO TOP IT OFF MY ASS STILL TRIED TO EAT IT JUST TO SEE AND THEY TASTE LIKE ASS

[delawaredetroit]

Hmm... this rules out the noumu targeting Izuku as having anything to do with Shigaraki. It's clear he wasn't expecting the Hosu Trio to be there at all.

So unless bullying Izuku was so ingrained into Tsubasa's muscle memory that he instinctively continued to do it after becoming a noumu, the winged noumu was acting under someone else's orders. And that person is likely All for One, who chose which noumus to send to Hosu in the first place. (Even if he wasn't expecting Izuku to be in Hosu, it wouldn't be out of bounds for All for One to give the winged noumu a prior order to grab Izuku whenever it was that he saw him. Especially since I don't think All for One ideally wanted to lose all three noumu over Stain and he seemed reluctant to give any of his noumus to Shigaraki for this)

[solomonssock]

Delicate Love

Not the way I was kicking my feet while writing this…anyway, I love Asmodeus :)

Pairing: gn!reader x Asmodeus (established relationship!)

TW: Brief suggestive content (it's Asmodeus), a lot of fluff...like intense fluff and wooing by you, exploring courting behavior, brief non-canon Devildom history exploration, death mentioned but not discussed seriously,,,,uhh I think that's all! Let me know if there's anything else, ty!

Word Count: ~3,400

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Mo, you know I adore you, and I'd do anything to make you the happiest demon alive."

You heave a sigh as you finally slide into the booth beside Asmodeus, leaning back to sink into the cushioned lining.

"But I'm never going on a shopping haul with you ever again."

You groan and begin massaging out the indents littering your arms from the bag handles you'd lugged around for the past couple of hours.

Right now, you'd enjoy nothing more than sitting across from your lover on your weekly scheduled date day. It's a lovely thought: fingers tangled atop the table as you lean in for a sweet kiss or two, admiring him and his coy smile as you tell him all the ways he makes your heart whole. 

Unfortunately, that space is currently occupied. 

You glare at the copious amount of shopping bags piled on the seat across from you two. In retrospect, offering to carry all his bags in the first place was a rash decision. But you bore the agony with pride. The spring in his step as he flittered around the racks with ease, batting his eyelashes at you all the while, was payment enough. With his birthday right around the corner, it also had the added benefit of making it easier for you to sneak your own purchase, custom matching anklets for the two of you, among the pile.

 Glancing to your side, you watch as Amodeus pulls out his D.D.D. to scan the menu QR code before scrolling through the options. He turns to you with a smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Aww, you don't mean that! You love spending time with me. Aaand," he drags out the word as he leans against your side, gazing deep into your eyes with his usual intensity, "if you hadn't come, you would have missed out on your private show." 

Warmth rises to your cheeks as you recall the heated kisses Asmodeus snuck inside the dressing room, pressing you up against the stall door in between outfit changes.

"Seemed to me like you enjoyed yourself," he chuckles, "and weren't the outfits just so cute! Especially that last little number, don't you agree?"

You do. 

Asmodeus had strutted out of the stall with a lacy red lingerie top tucked into tight leather shorts. Slowly and sensually, he pulled on the knee high boots one after the other before requesting that you zip them up for him. Teasingly running his fingers through your hair as you kneeled before him, promising to wear it for you on your next night out together.  

"The clothes were cute, but I was more focused on the model." You knock your knee against Asmodeus's as you wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer into you. 

Gently, you lift your hand to his cheek, brushing your knuckles over the skin before pressing your forehead against his own.

"It's all just additional, anyway. Your beauty isn't confined by any pretty piece you put on." 

His eyes shift away from yours, and you know you've hit a sore spot.

For some time since you two started dating officially, Asmodeus had become increasingly stricter on his skincare routines. Often cycling through new products weekly. You weren't sure what he was searching for, but he'd become meticulous with just about anything to do with his appearance. Accepting no less than perfection before meeting with you.

You weren't even allowed to come into his room in the morning anymore before he had a chance to see himself.

"I mean it," you tilt his chin to face you before pressing a kiss to his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and his lips. 

"However you come to me, I'll love you all the same." 

Asmodeus pushes his face into the space between your collar and jaw, trembling just a bit. You tighten your hold on him as you move a hand up to run through his hair, smiling as you feel the onset of a light purr thrumming against your side. 

"Hmm, love you too." The mumbled words tickle your skin as he presses a kiss against your neck.

You take a moment to look around the cafe and smile as you see plenty of other couples taking up the tables near you. Most of them are holding hands, intertwining tails, or pressing up against their partner as Asmodeus does to you now. 

Touch, you remember, is something sacred.

Earlier this week, you joined Satan on a trip to the Royal Library. There, you stumbled across a collection on courtship etiquette and decided to peek through a couple of volumes. The first one you picked up broached the subject of touch.

"Allowing another to place their hands upon you in public, especially in an intimate display, signifies to them and your company several things. First, that you entrust this demon with your body, permitting them to freely handle you. Second, that you find comfort in or openly desire them and their presence. The manner in which you permit them to touch you and its implications will be addressed in Chapter 4. Third, that you find them worthy of witnessing your vulnerabilities and trust them to tend to you when you are at your weakest. This has the additional benefit of informing your company whom to seek out in case of any emergencies. Therefore, if you have no intention of pursuing someone or inviting them into your close circle, it is advisable to abstain from intimate or prolonged contact. You don't want to be seen as an indecisive and inconsiderate heartbreaker, do you? "

For demons, you've recognized that tender or friendly touches are extended only to their loved ones. The casual touch you were accustomed to in the human world: hugging, rubbing someone's back, reaching for someone's hand, even grabbing a loose eyelash, means something deeper here. It had finally clicked for you then, as to why Lucifer had found your tendency to casually high five him and his brothers so peculiar during the start of the program.

It also explains why Asmodeus seems to be most at ease when he hides into your neck like now. It reassures him, you figured, of just how deeply you trust in him to protect you as you let his fangs graze the skin and run over the veins that lie beneath. 

The neck, after all, is one of the weakest parts of the human body.

"So," you give Asmodeus a soft squeeze, "finally gonna tell me why you've been wanting to come here?" 

All week, Asmodeus had mentioned how excited he was to take you to this cafe on your date day. It was the new hot spot for couples in the Devildom, he teased, and you two obviously being the hottest couple were duty bound to go. That in itself was fine, but for the hot spot he claimed it to be, you hadn't heard a single thing about it. It didn't help that Asmodeus wouldn't tell you the name or spill any details. You just had to be patient and hope he wasn't taking you somewhere...overstimulating.

The cafe is more tame than you expected, and quite romantic too. Flowers top the booths, loop through the hanging chandeliers, and create a pleasantly sweet aroma. At the center of each table, a heart shaped candle burns its wick as it sits atop the welcome card with the menu QR code. The walls are covered in paintings of what you suspect are well-known lovers in Devildom history. Among the demonic pairings, you surprisingly find one couple you recognize, Orpheus and Eurydice performing together in death. 

"I get why it's so popular. It's really nice in here," you murmur, gaze turning towards the heart shaped candle to watch the flame flicker to-and-fro.

Focused on the burn, your eyes follow the wax as it melts and trickles off the bottom edge of the heart, leisurely sliding down until it pools into the dish it rests upon. You snort in amusement at the imagery it inspires.

Man, you've got it bad.

Asmodeus jolts from the sound, reluctantly pulling away from you with a small pout on his lips. Yet, his hands still settle on your waist, balling up the fabric there. 

"What's so funny? I was comfortable, you know," he grumbles. You smile, tilting your head as you lift your hand to briefly squeeze his left arm. 

"It's pretty silly, but...", you nod towards the table, "when I was looking at that candle and how the heart drips downward; the first thing I thought of was you."

"It reminds me of your true form," you begin to draw hearts onto his arm, mapping out the markings as you remember them. "I was thinking about how beautiful these are."

Asmodeus's hands release your top, smoothing out the fabric, before they settle again.

"Especially, when you hug me,"  you hum. 

It's a struggle to put into words, the right words, how much you love and appreciate someone. But for Asmodeus, you'll try. 

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but don't be mean," you flush, "I...sometimes think of how your markings droop down, like they're in search of something. And I hope it's me." 

You rearrange his scarf as it begins to fall out of place, taking care to put it where he likes it best; tossed over his shoulder. 

"You're sort of like the flame too, you know?"

You let out an awkward chuckle. Asmodeus hasn't said anything. So, fidgeting more with the scarf, you press onward. 

"You're so bright that everyone can't help but admire the warmth that flows from you...even me," you confess.

"Your confidence just makes me want to be more confident in myself. Like, I appreciate that I can be myself around you and that even if you don't always get my style, you look for things you know I'll love."

"Your brothers can complain about how you're self-centered, but I know how wonderful of a listener you are. I always feel understood by you. It's kind of freaky, actually," you laugh, "sometimes I feel like you understand me better than I understand myself!"

"But," you pause and pull your hands back as your gaze returns to the candle and what rests below it, "I want to be like the dish. Your dish."

"I see how all of it exhausts you, Mo. Beloved by all, but known by none."

You know you've hit the bullseye when you hear him take a sharp breath.

"Well, that doesn't have to be true - we can change that. I want to keep getting to know you, to be with you at your best and your worst. So...you don't have to hide or push yourself too much when it comes to me. You're a resilient demon, but I'm happy to be the shoulder you continue to lean on."  

You sigh with a small smile, finally letting the words you've been stewing over for weeks burst free from your chest. Yeah, It's embarrassing to say these things so plainly. But it's freeing too. It's not something humans do much anymore, so casual in their confessions and in how quickly they pick up, drop, or cycle through their partners. But if it means he'll understand that you're ready to accept him just as he is, that he doesn’t have to change himself to earn your love, then it's worth it. 

You turn to face Asmodeus and gasp at the captivating sight before you.

Butterflies erupt and flutter in your stomach in response to the blush that spreads across his skin. His face, his chest, and the tips of his ears; nothing is unaffected. His glassy eyes shine with real tears, and you're a little worried you may have gone too far as he gnaws at his bottom lip. 

You're so glad for the dim lighting, and that the bags forced you to sit beside him, obstructing any view of him from prying eyes. You don't want anyone else to share in this unguarded expression he bares to you.

"Mo, hey" you move to grab his hands and nudge them off you gently, "I didn't mean to upset you." 

But you leave him be as he lets out a distressed whine that raises goosebumps across your skin. His hands only leave you for a second to push yours away before they return to your hips.

"Mo, what's wrong?" You whisper, leaning forward to press your forehead against his again.

"Ugh, nothing's wrong! It's too right!" He whisper-screams back. 

Wait...is he embarrassed? 

You look into his eyes, and for the first time ever, Asmodeus is the first to look away. You pull back, snickering into your hand.

"Are you laughing at me?!" He looks affronted, but you smile at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes crinkling from the joy flowing through you.

"You're too cute, Mo!" You croon as you kiss his cheek. "If I had known", you press your lips there again, "how much my silly little thoughts would affect you", and again, "I'd have told you how deeply I feel about you every day."  

You let out a giddy giggle as he blinks away the wetness in his eyes, pouting at you. His skin feels hot to the touch with a tinge of rouge everywhere. You lean forward, whispering in his ear, "Yeah. Red is definitely your color." 

"Now you're the one who's being mean!" He whines, pressing his face into your shoulder. You lean your head against his and hold him to you.

"There, there, sweetheart." You tease, just as he usually does when he overwhelms you with his affection. 

"I won't go into how much laughter you've brought into my life, or talk about how much your passion inspires me, or explain why your eyes remind me of orange chrysanthemums." 

Mo lifts his face off your shoulder with a slight sniffle. 

"Why chrysanthemums?" He asks. And although you only command them, you feel devilish as you gaze into light orange eyes with a knowing smile.

"Because," you whisper, "despite their intensity, they signify a delicate love." 

It goes unsaid, but as Asmodeus's eyes widen you know he understands exactly what you mean. 

He is the orange chrysanthemum you tend to. With stunning and stimulating colors, he attracts all. But once his onlookers have had their fill of his beauty, they move on, leaving him to wilt. No matter how much his fans claim to love him, they have never, and could never, water him with the gentle attentiveness that you do. 

Despite the titillating and tempestuous ideations he conjures in the minds of many, you know that at his core, the Avatar of Lust is a fragile lover.

Asmodeus is silent as he presses himself into your neck again, but you're not concerned as his body sags into yours. For the first time in these past few weeks, he lets go. Trusting in you to hold him up. 

"Mo," after a couple of minutes, you rub his back to get his attention, "I saw you looking at the menu earlier. Is there something specific you wanted me to order for us?"

"Mhmm," he hums as he sits up to look at you, "you have to order the Bound Blood Berry Custard." You snort at how serious his request sounds.

"Have to? What if I wanted to order pie? Or cake? Or macaroons?" You smirk, raising a brow at him.

"Aww, you can get whatever you'd like too! But, we have to get that to share."  

The custard, you've determined after having a few spoonfuls, has a tangy aftertaste. You didn't expect the lighter citrusy flavor from something with "blood" in the title. But it goes down smooth and is actually pretty refreshing. You take another scoop as Asmodeus does, but this time, he holds his spoon up to your lips.

"Go ahead, darling," he coos, looking at you expectantly. An excited trill leaves him as you lean forward with a chuckle, letting him feed it to you. You do the same to him, holding your spoon up to his lips, heart fluttering at the happy hum he lets out. You two go back and forth like this, feeding spoonfuls of the treat to one another until it's all gone. 

"So, what's so special about that custard anyway?" You lean against the booths backing, pleasantly full from all the other treats you two ordered afterward. 

"Well," he leans back to join you, leaning into you once again, "the website says the Bound Blood Berry Custard can only be made every 77 years, when the berries around a shared unmarked grave come into season."

"Unmarked?" You glance over to him, but his eyes are shut as he cuddles into your side.

"Yup!" He chirps. 

"One review said it belongs to a commoner and a member of the aristocracy. It's been there longer than we've been in the Devildom, probably even before it united under one ruler." 

You think back to the history class you attended during your first year here, remembering a brief lecture your professor gave over the travesties of the Warring Generals Period. The Great Generals of the North, South, East, and West conspired to form an oligarchy and successfully killed their king. However, unable to resist the temptation for greater power, they soon turned on one another. They established their own mandates within their territories, endangering demons everywhere as their laws usually conflicted with the legislation passed by the weaker interim rulers.

"Their love was forbidden by some shriveled up duke in the South. It's sad how they passed, executed as an example of what happens to those who tested his law." Asmodeus scoffs.

"They swore as they were together in life, so would they be in death. Apparently, they weren't even supposed to be buried together, but their love inspired some commoners to remove the duke and give them a proper burial. 77 years later, the bushes popped up, guarding their grave."

Asmodeus lets out a dreamy exhale as he opens his eyes, gazing into yours. 

"It's so romantic that they've been buried together all this time. I'm almost jealous! Should we plan to share a plot too?" 

You shake your head but entertain the idea, "If it comes down to us fighting for our love to exist, then sure, I'll fight for you. But hopefully we won't have to plan anything like that for a long long time." 

"You'd fight for me?" Asmodeus smiles, moving to hold your hand in his.

"For or with you," you shrug. "Whichever comes first."

"Oh, my sweet little human is willing to give their all to protect me?" He teases.  

"I'll hold you to that, you know? Besides, there's no way I'll let anyone take you from me." With his free hand, Asmodeus grasps your jaw and leans in close to you.

"Rumor has it if you share the Bound Blood Berry Custard, your love will last for at least 77 years until the next thicket grows. So," he pecks your lips once, twice, three times, before he pulls away, "you're stuck with Mo till then ♡"

Maybe it's the sugar high, but you yank him back over for a real kiss. You two take your time, savoring the sweetness, and giggle like love drunk fools between each press of lips. 

Many misunderstand the passion Asmodeus carries, thinking it doesn't extend beyond himself. Those lucky enough to be loved by him, however, know they'll receive it in full force. You can feel it in the eager kisses he presses against any skin he can reach, in the way he clings onto you as you clutch his jacket in your hands, and in how he nuzzles his nose against yours before he pulls away.

"You know, Mo," you let out a breathy laugh, "77 years might not be long enough." 

You brush back some of the hair that's fallen into his face with a deep sigh.

"I mean, how do we know that the years don't stack up based on how many we eat together?"

You feel giddy as you watch his eyes light up, grin widening when he finally registers what you're implying.

"Oh, that's true! Should we test that theory?" 

In the privacy of the booth, you empathize with those star crossed lovers. There is no way in the natural order of things that you and Asmodeus were ever meant to be. But here he is, and here you are. Inseparable.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to try. How many should we order to go?"

[happyk44]

So this post I tagged w/ npd!Annabeth just popped out of the queue and as I'm rereading it, I'm laughing to myself because wasn't there some official post from Annabeth's POV being shocked and annoyed that Percy has better grades than her. Even though Percy has gone to school every year consistently (save for that gap year he was in a coma) and also has a teacher for a step-father, while she was presumably being "homeschooled" at camp where she would be able to prioritize her interests (architecture and mythology) over stuff she could care less about, like biology.

[twilight-deviant]

Teen Wolf 1x12 | Movie