I'm unsure if I am reaching when I say MC has a lot of sacrificial lamb motifs.
MC is literally represented as a sheep/lamb when drawn officially.
◇They are a sacrifice on behalf of humanity when they are brought to the Devildom.
◇Besides that there was the time MC willingly sacrificed themselves to try and protect Beel and Luke from Lucifer's wrath.
◇I'm not entirely sure about this but I remember during the time MC's magic was going haywire, they offered to end themselves despite their fear if it kept the three worlds safe. Another case of offering themselves up like a sarafice.
◇Besides those, there is every time MC sacrificed their time and other things for the sake of someone else.😃
Shout-out to aromantic people whose lives are so fucking busy that they periodically forget what day of the week it is. today is Wednesday, June 5th. Happy Aromantic Visibility Day.
why does most anti-ai sentiment nowadays feel reactionary?
--
Because people are exhausted and pissed off and no longer have time to re-re-re-explain all the details of why it's trash to the whiny evangelists who are convinced it writes a better paper than they can.
It produces slop. Sometimes entertaining slop, sometimes marginally useful slop, but slop.
It cannot produce anything better than slop. This is, perhaps, the key point. The proponents claim otherwise, without any evidence to support them.
Some of the slop is actively dangerous. (See: Suggestions of safe mushrooms, inaccurate legal advice, and whatever the hell is going on with the character chatbots that teens are talking with.)
People who auto-produce slop, fail to learn the skills they would have developed by writing/drawing/coding/singing/etc.
Gen-AI is utterly useless as a teaching tool. It is worse than useless: it actively discourages people from developing their own skills.
It's an incredible resource drain. Exactly how bad gets debated, but the point is: In order to have AI slop not be the random 5-legged horse with green mush tree backgrounds, you need a LOT of computer power.
The only reason we have the current level of entertaining-to-useful slop (it's still slop) is venture capitalists sinking billions into a pipe dream that is never going to happen. AI will never produce insightful, entertaining fiction; it will never produce a coherent movie; it will never produce blueprints for a house or an Ugly Christmas Sweater knitting pattern. The "hallucinations" are never going away; they're part of the process.
Again: Proponents claim otherwise, despite computer experts saying, no, that isn't how this can work.
Part of that "investment" includes widescale data & content scraping, some of which is definitely illegal, much of which is immoral and might be illegal, and, importantly, they are very aware that paying market value for the content they're using would tank any chance of profitability.
There might be useful potential aspects to gen-AI. (The same way there might be potentially good uses for blockchain.) Those are not the aspects the venture capitalists are sinking money into, because those are not "replace human creativity with a robot" features.
And once the pro-AI contingent has loudly declared that none of that matters and the haters are wrong because any day now, AI is going to be able to make apps that meet HIPAA security standards, or good knitting patterns based on particular types of yarn, or a chatbot that can act as a therapist without suggesting you get divorced or commit suicide, or beautiful artwork that doesn't hit the uncanny valley and definitely isn't copyright infringement, I promise bro, just wait, the NEXT version will fix this problem...
The anti-AI contingent has to fall back on "AI is stupid and it sucks and I hate it" because the people who are invested in it succeeding have blithely ignored, not refuted, every single problem with it.
The most reasonable analyses I've seen, say we've got another 2-3 years of it at most before the bubble collapses.
Because, and again, this is important:
It cannot produce better than slop.
There can be value in slop. The billions being thrown into it are not based on "let's find the best use for the kinds of slop this can make."
It's also literally killing the ability of people to buy and make computers for consumer and small business use, and is going to make it nearly impossible to get phones even at the current level of technology let alone the upgrades people are used to. You know planned obsolescence? Good luck replacing your shit because ai data centers are sucking up all the RAM and storage and they want to rent access to "compute".
The manufacturers decided they would rather have 7 ginormous bulk clients than deal with selling to consumers. I hope their bubble pops so hard.
“Do all wolves go through a vampire phase?” Porter asked from the shower, turning his head to look at the shifter in his bedroom.
David met his gaze, frowning the way he always did when he didn’t like what Porter said, or when he didn’t exactly understand how he meant it. “Fuck you.”
“That’s sort of what I’m talking about…”
David leaned against the bathroom counter, still naked and endlessly comfortable in that state.
Porter liked that about shifters, though admittedly David was the first he’d ever known in any way but passing or fighting. And even this was…odd. Even for Porter. This was the third time they’d hooked up.
The first had been a matter of timing and maybe some self-destructive behavior on both sides. They’d been at the same club. Porter had flirted with the big shifter, not really expecting anything from it but maybe a new enemy. David had dragged his eyes over Porter, not exactly judging but just taking him in completely, and it had sent chills through the vampire he hadn’t felt in ages. Finally, the shifter looked him dead in the eye and said in that husky voice of his, “If you bite me, I’ll bite you back.”
Porter had almost moaned. “Promise?”
They’d messed around in the park that night, neither one trusting the other to bring him home.
Porter had never been with a shifter before. It was…thrilling. David could hold him down–actually hold him down, not just the way Porter let the humans do it. In theory, so could another vampire, but Porter never did that. Other vampires were always potential rivals and enemies, he couldn’t give any of them a sense of power over him like that.
He hadn’t been able to get David out of his head after that. When he went looking for him again, was when he found out exactly who David was.
He told himself he was playing a cunning game when he approached him the second time. He was laying groundwork for his king, ready to do something terrible if needs be.
He was a liar.
That second time they’d gone for coffee first. David was a good person and when Porter made him laugh, it was almost as thrilling as being pinned under him at a hotel later that night.
Even more reason he should have walked away. He didn’t deserve him.
But they’d exchanged numbers and the texting had started…and the sexting.
David was better at this than Porter would have ever guessed. He suspected they both liked being with someone who knew what they were, but wasn’t at all connected to their daily life. They couldn’t want anything more than these moments from each other. They were a secret just because no one knew–because neither of them knew if what they were doing was off limits or not. They belonged to two very different houses, not in conflict with one another but not exactly compatible either.
Porter pushed wet hair out of his face and took a second to just look at David Shaw standing naked in his bathroom. He was tall and thick, a handful of scars and a lot of muscle. “It doesn’t seem fair,” Porter mused, looking at the red marks that would become bruises on David’s thighs and ribs from where he’d grabbed too hard, and those scratches from his teeth. He hadn’t bitten him. They hadn’t crossed that line yet, but they were both flirting with it. “Why do you get to keep the marks and I don’t?” he asked, sliding his hands up and then down his chest.
David’s gaze followed his hands, head cocked to the side and mouth trying to hold back a smirk. “You’re complaining about healing faster than me?” he asked, the audacity of it thick in his voice.
Porter laughed and held out his hand, inviting David to take it when he realized the shifter was waiting his turn for the shower. This was all new for them and he’d learned already that David rarely assumed anything. He didn’t take what wasn’t offered.
Porter didn’t think about why that made him feel so…safe.
He smiled when the shifter took his hand and let Porter draw him into the walk-in shower with him. “Do you have someplace to be?” he asked, turning David into the heat of the spray and feeling a bloom of satisfaction in his chest at the way he sighed and relaxed under the water.
“Not tonight, no,” David said and then seemed to remember who they were. His body tensed up again. Porter was learning that he was almost always ready… ready for what, he hadn’t exactly sorted out, but ready. “I can get out of your hair. I’m sure you’ve got sneaky vampire shit to do,” he smirked around the words.
Porter grabbed the bodywash, gently soaping up David’s back and keeping him from rushing to take off. It was tricky, this thing they were doing of being so close but not really vulnerable. Porter knew it was smart to leave it that way. Smart would be to cut this off. Keep the vague connection to the Shaw pack in his back pocket and stop seeing the shifter.
And the thing was, Porter was smart. Porter did the smart things. He had survived by making hard decisions and getting himself to a place of safety… at least, safer than ever before.
But David was relaxing again under his touch, even when he was massaging the suds up his shoulders, into the back of his neck. Porter could snap those bones so easily. The idea made him feel sick, but it was also what made his heart pound at the fact that David was trusting him. He shouldn’t. Porter had done awful things. He shouldn’t even let Porter touch him. “You’re welcome to stay for a while. I might have food in the kitchen,” he said, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t.
“Might?” David grumbled, letting Porter move his hands down his back, to his sides.
He was careful of the spots that might become bruises. As much as he envied them a moment ago, he worried about them now. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to leave marks…”
David turned his head to glance back at him, eyebrow raised like he needed to see if Porter was joking.
He wasn’t. He wouldn’t have been that careless with a human. Why had he been with a shifter?
“I thought that was the goal…” David turned around, Porter’s arms still around his waist. They were so close. That worry crease appeared in David’s brow again. “Was I too rough?”
Porter exhaled a laugh, surprised out of his own words for a second. “Never. Are you kidding? Look at me.” He held up his arms and turned a full circle to prove how entirely unmarked he was. But when he landed where he started, looking up at David, the shifter did not look convinced.
“You would have a lot more marks than me if you had my healing and not yours…” David seemed to be thinking about it for the first time, and not sure he liked it.
Porter slid hands up his chest, fingertips skating across his pulse and onward, to cup the side of his neck. “You really don’t need to worry about that. I liked it…very much.”
The crease was still in his brow, his mouth pulling into a frown. Why? Why did he care that much about it? Porter was fine.
“Sweetheart,” Porter cooed. “If I’d wanted you to stop, I would have made you stop.”
David looked him in the eye, maybe trying to gauge if he believed it? Porter grinned, flashing all his teeth like a reminder. He wasn’t human. He liked letting this shifter rough him up, but he was very capable of fighting back if he’d wanted to. This was not a fight. This was not a power struggle. This was just… What? What was it?
The crease in David’s brow smoothed out and he used his fingers to comb some of Porter’s wet hair back, scratching at his scalp and making his eyes flutter shut for a second. “You would tell me if you didn’t like something?”
The question was so simple, so casual, but somehow vulnerable. Porter smiled slyly as his wolf. “I tell you when I like things don’t I?”
David huffed, turning them to trade places and grabbing the bodywash. “You are bossy,” he agreed.
Porter laughed, heart pounding when he realized David meant to wash him. He almost stopped him. Almost told him he didn’t need help. But he didn’t and it felt amazing to be cared for. Porter was all for aftercare, but he took on the caregiver role. He loved being the caregiver after sex. It was one of the only times he ever got to take on that role for anyone, but as David washed him, he realized this was a role he’d never had either.
“Fuck,” he sighed, almost moaned.
David ducked his head to have his mouth near Porter’s ear, smiling around his low words. “You want me to stay for a while longer, biter?” One of his hands slid up, wrapping loosely around Porter’s neck, while the other went low.
Porter did moan then, the sound choking off when David squeezed both parts of him.
Yes, he wanted him to stay. Gods help him, he wanted him to stay with him.
“Please consider how amatonormativity/compulsory sexuality/allonormativity might be impacting your perspective on this” is not at all the same thing as insulting someone, attacking them, or calling them a bigot, FYI.
masterlist | og rewrite | og s1 rewrite | previews | lesson 3 [normal]
new preview!
i was hoping that i could write more often now that i'm out of college but i don't have as much time as i though i would T-T
i've probably said this before, but the purpose of the previews is to keep the small amount of people following my rewrite engaged as i finish writing everything (i'm up to lesson 10 so far)
i would just upload each chapter as i finish, but i'm going back and doing edits of earlier chapters as i continue writing, and my update schedule would be a fucking mess if i followed through with that approach bc i don't have enough hours in the day to write consistently
but! i'm glad the people who have seen it so far are enjoying it bc i'm having a lot of fun writing it 🙂↔️ and if you're a black obey me fan, you should tune in as well :)
here's a preview of lesson 4!
WC: ~2.7k
snipped is subject to change from its current form between the time i post & the time i actually start uploading the finished product
— Aaliyah’s Room —
“The vinyl has been acquired!” Mackenzie says excitedly, walking over to the other exchange students. “I thought it’d be…”
“Special?” Kayden says, Mackenzie shrugging.
“Yeah…it’s just a record,” Kacey mutters.
“I really appreciate you all helping me with this. Seriously,” Aaliyah says, sitting cross-legged on her bed. “If I’d have known it’d be this much trouble, I wouldn’t have—”
“It’s alright, I promise. A sprained wrist isn’t all that bad,” Mackenzie says, flaunting her bandage, now signed by both Satan and Leviathan.
“Besides…” She turns around, pulling her sweater down slightly as a chorus of shocked noises fill the room.
“You…he made a pact with you?” Kacey gapes.
“I mean, he did offer it. Would’ve been shitty if he went back on his word,” Kayden says, though they’re equally as shocked.
“How do you feel?” Aaliyah asks, frowning.
“I feel fine, honestly. Felt something for a minute, but it didn’t linger,” Mackenzie says, setting the record down.
“Two of us have pacts now…” Kayden mumbles, looking down at their wrist. It’s ironic, almost, given how opposed they both were to being in the Devildom in the first place.
“So we’re doing this tonight?” Kacey says, gingerly taking the vinyl from Mackenzie’s hands.
“It’s now or never, right?” Aaliyah pipes up. “I’ll give him the album, and—”
“I can do it,” Kacey interjects. “He’s already suspicious, right? If you give it to him, it might not work. He knows what you want.”
Aaliyah frowns. She has a point… “Are you sure? I feel like I’ve been dragging you all along on this.”
“None of us can hear what you’re hearing in the attic,” Kacey says, placing a hand on Aaliyah’s thigh reassuringly. “I’ll give him the record, and you see what’s going on at the top of those steps. If someone’s been kidnapped, or if there’s something dangerous up there…We can figure out something else from there.”
Aaliyah nods, taking a deep breath.
“Yeah. Okay. That works.” She says quietly, looking around the room once more as Kacey takes her leave.
“Thank you again, for doing all of this.”
Kacey makes her way down the dim hallway. She stops at the attic first, trying to make out any voices or sounds coming from upstairs, but she hears nothing. Sighing, she rounds the corner and continues on her way to Lucifer’s room.
As she arrives, she raises her hand to knock.
“Come on in. Door’s open.”
Kacey tentatively turns the knob, pushing the door open as she steps inside. His room is much larger than any of theirs.
Illuminated and warmed by a nice fireplace, candles along its walls, and a handful of gorgeous chandeliers, she’s not surprised to see paperwork scattered across the desk at the right of his room and the table near the fireplace. His furniture, including his bed, couch, and armchairs, is all dark gray, matching the blueish-grey walls and ceiling that frame the interior. The walls and ceiling are both decorated with a mix of hand-painted patterns and photographs, with an unsettlingly large skeleton hanging at the far left corner of the room. Atop his mantlepiece are a few trinkets and an old, yet well-kempt record player.
“Ah, Kacey,” He says, smiling politely. “Today was quite the disaster, don’t you think?” He sighs, his expression faltering ever so slightly.
“Disaster doesn’t even begin to describe it. I didn’t think Leviathan had it in him,” Kacey says, shutting his door behind her. “I mean, I know Mammon said she might end up dead…but I didn’t think he was being serious.”
“Despite his status, Levi’s not usually as aggressive as he was today,” Lucifer says. “He’s timid enough to be harmless by nature, but Mackenzie riled him up more than even I anticipated. I was planning on lecturing him about keeping his head, but he looked so guilty…But, with their pact in mind, I’m sure Mackenzie doesn’t hold it against him.” Lucifer pauses, turning to face Kacey properly as he sets down his quill.
“Are you here because of what happened today? Or is something else—?”
“I have something for you.” Lucifer glances down at Kacey’s hand as she holds something out to him — the TSL record.
“This…how did you get your hands on this?” He mutters in disbelief, his eyes betraying the stillness of his demeanor. She smiles. Maybe Mammon really was onto something…
“Little birdie told me you’d been dying to listen to it. We did what we had to do.” She sits on the armrest of his couch, crossing one leg over the other and setting the vinyl in her lap as her pajama shorts leave little to the imagination. If he’s staring, she doesn’t notice.
“So this is why she made a pact with him? The four of you are surely something,” He huffs out an amused laugh.
“What’s so special about it, anyways? Is it not on streaming, or anything?” She frowns.
“Do you realize what this represents?”
“What are you talking about?” Kacey deadpans, watching as he gently takes the record from her grasp. “I mean, I like digging for underground music as much as the next person, but TSL seems too popular to have lost media.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘lost media’, per se,” He says, gingerly brushing some dust from its cover. “But it is similar.”
She gives him a confused look.
“This isn’t any ordinary soundtrack, you see. There’s quite a history to it.” He starts, walking over to his record player. She gets up to follow. “Now, this might shock you, but I couldn’t care less about the story of The Tale of the Seven Lords. That’s not why I wanted the vinyl.”
“So you’re a music buff? Is that it?” She asks, leaning against the left end of the fireplace as he removes the vinyl from its sleeve. He pauses.
“Well, yes, but that’s only part of the reason I wanted the vinyl,” He says, carefully placing the record atop the player. “What interests me is the person who served as the first composer for the TSL movies.”
She tilts her head in confusion.
“The composer I speak of is dead now. He killed himself.” Kacey frowns, though her curiosity doesn’t fade. “The final song he wrote before his death was meant to be used in the scene where the Lord of Corruption puts a curse on the heroes. But, because he committed suicide, they decided not to release the track. They kept it hidden, but didn’t destroy it.”
“And the vinyl has a copy of the song?”
“Perceptive, are we,” He says, placing the needle on the vinyl, but keeping the power off. “A group of diehard fans pooled their own funds together and had a very limited number of vinyl editions, including the missing song, produced and distributed. This is one of the few.” He picks up the sleeve, inspecting it once more.
“However, all of the people involved in its creation, as well as every single person who owned a copy of it, ended up dying mysteriously. So, naturally, people started saying the record itself was cursed.” Kacey pauses, looking at the album sleeve, then at her hands. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s not like you and your friends listened to it, did you?” She shakes her head.
“Good,” He mutters. “If I had known Levi had a copy, I would have borrowed it centuries ago.”
“So…you’re gonna listen to it tonight, then?” Kacey asks, Lucifer nodding in response.
“I truly appreciate you bringing this to me. I’ll spend the night savoring every last note…” His expression is surprisingly soft, but he masks it as quickly as it comes. “But don’t think this means you and your friend can get a peek at that attic.” Kacey frowns.
“Demons, naturally can’t resist temptation. When we want something, and that something is staring us in the face, we have to have it. It’s in our blood.” He explains. “And right now, I want nothing more than to listen to the album for the rest of the night.”
Kacey’s gaze darts to the rack of CDs, vinyls, and cassettes neatly lined up behind him. “Is that a collection of other cursed music, then?” Lucifer hums, in agreement as she walks towards the rack.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t recommend touching any of them lest you value risking your life.” Kacey pauses, taking a tentative step back. Lucifer chuckles, walking up behind her. He gently takes hold of her shoulder, guiding her to her right.
“These,” He says, “are non-cursed. All of varying time periods.” He lets go of her.
“You seem to be, at least somewhat, interested in music as well. I’ll let you sift through the shelf another time.” She turns to face him, his finger running along the edge of the record player. “But I suggest you and your friends call it a night. Wouldn’t want your ears to catch wind of the album.”
“Alright…Goodnight, Lucifer,” She says, taking her leave.
“Goodnight. Sleep well.”
The door shuts with a soft click, and before Kacey can hear the record player scratch to life, she’s on her way back down the hall.
As she enters Aaliyah’s room, all three heads snap up to look at her.
“He said he’s gonna spend the whole night listening to the record,” Kacey says, shutting the door behind her.
“Something about it being cursed…But I guess he’s immune to it.” She continues. “‘Everyone who listens to it dies tragically, or something like that. So be careful, Aaliyah.” She says, the woman nodding in response. Go to the attic, come back in one piece, and tell us what’s up there.”
“And you’re sure he won’t come out of his room?” Kacey nods.
“He told me that demons are physically incapable of resisting temptation. If something they want is right in front of them, they’ll take it.” She explains.
Kayden frowns. The whole ‘temptation’ thing is probably why it’s hard for Mammon to keep any money to his name.
“And this album has been on his bucket list for centuries, apparently.” Aaliyah nods, a look of determination gracing her features as she stands.
“Get in, see what’s up there, and get out,” She says, taking a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”
“Be safe.”
“Please.”
“And come back in one piece!”
Aaliyah takes one last look at her friends, all with varying degrees of worry on their faces, before she heads out.
“Aaliyah…” She’s only just shut the door, freezing at the sound of her name. It’s the same voice from before.
How do they know who she is?
“I need help…please.” The voice speaks again.
“He can’t get you…now’s your chance.”
She wonders if this is a mistake as she climbs the stairs as quietly as possible. As she reaches the top, she sees a door, and…!
“There’s actually someone up here…” She says, making her way to the caged door.
The man stands from his place on the floor, excited to see her.
“I knew you’d be able to find me!” The man is in a black, hooded sweater, the interior of the hood lined with a light blue and the sweater itself lined with a black and blue striped pattern, matching the blue and white striped pocket on the top left of the sweater as the hems holding the buttons on his sweater are black and white respectively. Beneath it lay a white graphic tee with a black collar. His pants are an almost sickly green, the bottom half of them obscured by his half-high, lace-up black boots. His skin is pale, nearly as pale as his shirt, and he holds a cowprint pillow with a tail beneath his left arm. His hair is a deep, almost black, shade of blue, one that fades to white at the tips, and his eyes are strangely familiar, but she can’t put her finger on it in lighting this bad.
“Who are you? You look…familiar.” Aaliyah asks, taking a step closer. His face, now that she’s gotten a better look at it, also resembles someone she’s seen before. But, of course, she’s too tired to rack her brain for the source.
“That…requires an answer that has faded with time,” He says vaguely, his face downtrodden. “I seem to have been trapped so long that I can no longer remember even the simplest of things.”
“Why are you trapped up here?”
“It’s not of my own volition. That much I do know.”
Aaliyah takes him in quietly, her gaze raking over all of him that she can see before she speaks again.
“You’re a demon, right? You have to be. I’m the only person that—”
“No! Of course not.” He says, shuddering. “The thought of being one of those monsters is enough to make me anxious all over again.”
“Then…?”
“I’m a human, like you,” He says, fingers peeking through the caged door as he attempts to grab it.
Okay, so he’s a liar. Good to know. Maybe this was a bad idea after all…
There’s something about his demeanor that, aside from being uncannily inhuman, is just entirely off-putting. A darkness despite his otherwise cheery persona that makes her feel like she’s being studied under a microscope, analyzed for her every move.
“A demon imprisoned me long ago, and I’ve been stuck here ever since,” He glances behind her before speaking quietly. “I need your help.”
“Why me? Why am I the only one that can hear you?” She asks.
“Just listen, alright?” He says, frowning. “Neither of us have the ability to open this door. The demon who locked me in here put a seal on it, and the only way it can be broken is through the consent of Lucifer and his six brothers.” Aaliyah squints at him, clearly skeptical.
“But, as you can tell, not all of them are nice. You and your friends, however,” He says, drumming his fingers along the cool metal bars of the door, “the four of you might be my key out of here. They’re warming up to you.”
“Then why not bring all of us up here?” She crosses her arms.
“Because you’re not as stubborn as them. Mackenzie and Kayden have their issues, and Kacey’s adamant about not coming up here thanks to that asshole Lucifer.” He glowers, his expression melting into something more neutral as Aaliyah gives him a strange look.
“How do you know any of this?”
“Well, the lot of you aren’t exactly quiet,” He says with a shrug. “Besides, two of you already have pacts, right? That gives you the ability to bend demons to your will. To bend Lucifer and his brothers to your will.”
“So?”
“Make pacts with the rest of them, and set me free.” Aaliyah frowns.
“Why should I help you? I don’t even know who you are.”
“You know what it feels like to be trapped against your will,” He says, grasping onto the bars of the door desperately. “I didn’t ask to be put up here…and now I’m trapped. For who knows how long.” His voice is quiet, pleading.
“You and your friends have to help me. I don’t have anyone else I can go to.”
“And why can’t you just ask Lucifer’s brothers?” Aaliyah asks.
“The curse blocks the sound of my voice from their ears,” He says simply. “The only way to unlock the door is to have permission from all six of his brothers. And the only way to force their hand is to make pacts with them.”
“This doesn’t— you’re not making any sense!” She exclaims, earning a hush from him.
“Look, nobody can find out about this until the plan is finished.”
“Who said I agreed to help you? I damn sure didn’t.”
“You’re close with Beelzebub, aren’t you?” He ignores her, continuing on. “He’s empathetic enough to make a pact with. He’s your best bet.”
Only Leviathan's section was missing. The role of group leader somehow naturally fell to you, and you were left messaging him all day, reminding him that the assignment was due at midnight and everyone's grade hinged on a complete project. Which meant that he had to get his contribution to you ASAP.
"I'm busy right now but I'll get it to you as soon as I can! Guaranteed!" he messaged.
You had no idea what was taking up Leviathan's time, but you took his word for it and began to format the rest of the paper. Raphael's section had a typo, but otherwise everything looked good. You fiddled around with the header text.
A notification appeared in the corner of your screen.
L3V1 has logged on.
You breathed a sigh of relief. Looked like this project would be finished with time to spare, and you could get to bed at a reasonable time.
Another notification appeared.
L3V1 is now playing Ultimate Fantasy XIV.
In that instant, you understood how Lucifer could be so angry that he birthed the Avatar of Wrath.
