#Complaining without providing a solution is STUPID

[sosuigeneris]

why is being feminine seen as catering to patriarchy?

I enjoy putting on my make up, heels, I like looking good, I enjoy traditionally “feminine activities” like baking and cooking, I love a good gossip session with my girls, I’m empathetic and warm when I want to be, I can be very nurturing if I choose to be, I want kids someday and I want to be married. I can do all these things and still work my ass off in my business, close massive deals, be invited to speak for interviews, and conferences, be perceived as a leader without emulating alpha male behaviour.

By saying that doing feminine things caters to the male gaze and patriarchy, you’re putting women down. You’re inherently stating that being masculine is “correct” and “cool” and enjoying being feminine is “weak” and “vulnerable.”

oooooh buT YoUre doInG aLL tHiS fOr a MaN-

and even if I did, sometimes, do those things because I like a boy - what’s the issue?? If I’m invited on a date and I like him, and I want to look great, what’s the ISSUE? If he’s going to show up dressed well and groomed to look good for me, why won’t I? And if you’re going to choose to go out with a man who is an absolute dusty rat that doesn’t care about his appearance and hygiene, sorry but that’s on YOU. The first date might be a human error of judgement which happens, but going on a second date with said rat is unforgivable.

“meN aRe NeVeR subJecTed to tHesE stAndarDs”

by YOU. I sure hold men by the same standards that I hold myself. My standards are high. Just the way I hold myself to a certain standard, I hold men to the same. I’m not going to muck around with a guy who clearly does not meet my expectations. I’ve told off men for bad breath, bad manners, I ensure that my brothers and my closest guy friends are always looking good when needed, and I tell them when they do and don’t. I surround myself with good male friends I know I’d be ecstatic to marry my sister off to. Don’t pretend like your shitty low standards and mine are the same.

I don’t believe in blame game and low standards and it shows.

You guys really need to understand that it is alright to be multifaceted. Just because I enjoy baking doesn’t mean that I don’t like adventure sports, just because I enjoy doing my self care and meditation doesn’t mean I don’t understand politics and history and “Big Boy Subjects.” I may not enjoy F1 and sports but there are girls out there who do, and they also enjoy wearing dresses.

stop the unnecessary labelling and categorisation of people.

[llatimeria]

I feel so resolved right now bc I've been getting a little frustrated with the Instagram reels I've been seeing that's mostly het women complaining about how their husbands don't share the mental load of housework - which is absolutely justified, ofc. everyone needs to partake in taking care of the home as close to equally as is reasonable.

the thing is this mostly takes the form of people making fun of how their husbands say things like "Yeah sure I'll share the load :) Just make me a list!:) just tell me what to do! :)" when that's kind of defeating the purpose -- if your partner's making lists of chores for you, you're still basically offloading a ton of mental effort onto them, which doesn't actually help the problem.

however I know from experience that I am that husband lol. and I'm sure a lot of these men are just kind of inconsiderate, but from my perspective as a disabled neurodivergent person, I reflexively try to offload things like Making Lists or Asking To Be Told What To Do onto my (overstressed, often panicking) partner because I'm scared that if I make decisions about what I need to do, I'll focus on something my partner didn't even have on their radar and waste all my energy "fixing" something which they didn't consider broken, leaving me with nothing to help solve the problems they actually care about.

I'm not trying to be a dick or deliberately being lazy, I just need to know what's bothering them the most so I can start there instead of starting on a random side quest that doesn't matter to either of us. considering how many of these people I've run into are in nd4nd relationships, I'm pretty sure I can't be the only "inconsiderate husband" out there who's having this feeling, and it's a little frustrating to see it being completely attributed to a moral failing and not, like, a possible symptom of their partner's own mental health issues. (like we definitely can't pretend like misogyny never plays a part in the Just Make Me A List type of behavior, but I know relatively certainly that is not where it's originating from in my own personal relationship, and I'm not that unique)

just when I was about to just make a kind of grumpy post about this problem and offer absolutely no solutions, I fuckin run into a reel where someone actually tells people how to bridge the gap between offloading mental effort and actually knowing what your partner wants you to do- literally just. offer a couple of observations to them instead of hoping they'll do everything for you. ie - instead of "just tell me what to do!!", say "I see the dishes have to be done and the trash has to be taken out, so I was gonna do the dishes then take out the trash, unless there was something else that needs my focus first". this tells your partner that you are taking on some of the mental burden, but still offers them the opportunity to point you in the right direction if you're WAY off.

it just makes so much fucking sense and I never would've thought of doing that on my own. genuinely an extremely useful video to just algorithmically be provided to me. it's actionable advice instead of just telling people "share the loaaaddd" without providing the scaffolding someone needs to do that when theyre unused to it (whether that be due to neurodivergency or growing up as a guy in a misogynistic society).

and its just like. God damn it. this is bullshit. I can't believe the stupid camera app is helping me in real ways. maybe the mental health gurus and internet therapists have a goddamn point sometimes. fucking hell

[jujuscrolled]

love, actually

☆ in which if you look closely, you’ll find that love actually is all around (ft. toji, choso, yuta)

Toji

Toji had become increasingly worried about his son. Megumi had never been quite the talker - always resorting to a shrug, a nod or a side eye. Toji had become accustomed to their conversation (or lack there of) - so much so that he could read Megumi like a book. Their routine went like such: Megumi would come home, they’d have minimal conversation over how his school day had gone, he’d leave to do his homework and come out by dinner time (he’d complain about the taste or smell or anything else that didn’t meet his expectations), then they’d watch reruns of Crayon Shin-Chan and demolish exactly half of a large bucket of red vines. That was what Toji liked, it was a nice routine, he thought.

Until about a week ago - Megumi had eaten his dinner (without complaints!) and while they still had their nightly father-son bonding over Shin-chan Megumi had only eaten about a third of what he usually ate of red vines, and God forbid he tried asking about school.

Toji was at a bit of a loss considering he wasn’t much of a talk about your feelings kinda guy but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about his son. So, the obvious solution? Talk to the most emotionally available person he knew: you.

You were their neighbor and Toji’s close friend - though, really more of his only friend. You were the only one that would genuinely tolerate and even enjoy both his and his son’s emotional constipation.

“So, you’re worried about him… Because he’s not complaining about your food?” You asked as you sat at one of the barstools that faced his kitchen.

“There’s more to it. ‘Sides, i’m not worried i’m just…” Toji paused, thinking of a word to properly describe what he was feeling but his mind was far too jam packed with thoughts to formulate a proper word.

“It’s called being worried, Toj. And honestly? Considering you’re trying to make dinner with a chicken breast and a single carrot - i’m worried now too.” You mused, standing up and making your way over to him. (He had asked you to help him make dinner earlier but you had refused knowing that you’d end up doing most of the work.)

Toji watched you as you leaned onto the counter, back against the drawers as you looked at him curiously. He felt his hands get sweaty.

“Well, have you asked his teachers if he’s been off in class too?” You asked causing Toji to roll his eyes, “‘m not asking his teacher about my son.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him, “don’t be silly. They spend a lot of time with him - it’s not a bad thing to ask about your son as a concerned parent! Besides, you’re asking me about him and I’m just your neighbor.”

Toji scoffed at you, lifting his hand to flick your forehead.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re more than just our neighbor. ‘Sides, the brat likes you.” He looked away from you feeling uncharacteristically bashful as you grinned up at him.

“Awww, you guys like me?” You cooed, poking at his side making him swat your hand away. Toji was surprisingly ticklish for being such a burly man so you always found it funny to poke at the not so metaphorical bear.

“Well alright then, I’ll do what I can. Now please move, I doubt boiled chicken and half a carrot can hardly provide anyone with the necessary nutrients to survive.” You muttered pushing on his beefy shoulder so he could move.

“I put seasonings and shit in here too, don’t piss me off.” He muttered, but moved away from the stove regardless.

Four bowls of chicken noodle soup (Toji had seconds), a few episodes of Shin-Chan and three-fourths of a jar of red vines later Toji found himself in his room, mouth ajar as he stared at his phone.

From: Toji (don’t answer)

no fuckin’ way. he’s 6. u pullin my leg?

To: Y/n

you’ll never find me anywhere near ur nasty ass leg, old man. ur welcome btw !! xoxo

Toji deadpanned at your message before rubbing a hand over his face. He wasn’t even that much older than you. Shaking his head and focusing on the main topic; he supposed a crush wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

The next day the three of you found yourselves walking down the street, per your suggestion of course. You’d thought the Christmas decorations would help get Megumi to talk about his crush. Some kid in his class that he refused to tell even you more about. Toji couldn’t lie, his interest was piqued. It wasn’t often that the Fushiguros were interested in people so clearly this kid has got to be something special.

“So, school got any fun things going on?” Toji asked awkwardly. Out of his peripheral he saw the way you had face palmed.

“Not really, no.” Megumi said, eyes not rising from where they’d been the entire walk; the floor.

“Right.” He muttered feeling dejected. As if sensing his father’s dissatisfaction, Megumi cleared his throat before shoving his hands in his pockets, “actually, there’s a play coming up. For Christmas and stuff.”

You and Toji looked at each other, eyes wide. “Oh! Are we invited?” You asked, only getting a shrug from Megumi.

“Well I’m in it so I have a few tickets if you want them.” He said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just dropped the most unexpected bomb on his father. “You’re in the play?” Toji asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible so not to scare off Megumi’s invitation.

“Yeah. A friend of mine convinced me.” Toji glanced over at you, watching as your eyes sparkled.

“Cool, well we can help you practice, if you’d like.” You said, looking over at Toji who cleared his throat, “yeah, and I can help build stuff or whatever.” Toji kept his gaze in front of him, not wanting to scare the young boy off.

He pulled out his phone having felt it buzz and arched a brow at the message.

From: Y/n

wasn’t I the one that helped you build everything in ur house ? :p

Toji reached over, behind Megumi, to shove your shoulder surprisingly gently before texting you back.

From: Toji (don’t answer)

help me get the kid w his crush i’ll take u to dinner. on me

Toji stuffed his phone in his pocket, refusing to turn to look at you since that same damned warmth in his cheeks that you always seemed to cause was back and warmer than ever.

choso

Your fingers clicked against the keys on your keyboard, filing out yet another dreaded email. With the holidays coming up it seemed like less and less people were using their brains.

One of those people being your boss: Satoru Gojo. Who was currently standing beside you, the rolled up sheets of paper that he’d probably had some poor intern print out just to give them something to do, tapping against your head in attempts to get your attention - though really, he just found a wicked sense of pleasure in annoying you.

“Yes, Gojo?” You sighed, clicking send before turning to look at him.

“Come to my office please, I’d like to discuss a very important topic.” He said. Now, if Gojo was normal you’d be very concerned at his words. Thankfully (or not, depends who you ask, really) Gojo was far from normal and if the cheshire grin and the pure evil lurking behind his cerulean eyes were anything to go by; he was just playing on something else that would surely cause you a headache.

Sure enough, the second you were in his office he was grinning even wider at you.

“So. How’s my beloved friend doing today?” He asked, leaning forward onto his elbows, his head supported by his folded hands.

“What do you want from me, Satoru.” You sighed, patience unusually thin due to the long string of his emails that he’d tasked you with replying to claiming that you did all the “proper talk” better than he did.

“Okay fine, i’ll cut to the chase but only because I have last minute party planning to do; when are you gonna do something about your little problem?”

You only stared at him, unable to find it within you to somehow guess what the hell he was talking about this time.

“Pardon?”

“Sheesh, and you say i’m the childish one. Look, because you’re my friend and I love you; we have a bet going on and while I can afford lose a grand; I’m not about to let my best friend be alone on Christmas so if confess by tonight i’ll personally give you the thousand that I have riding on this.”

Satoru was insane, you knew this, but this was just far beyond insanity.

“Don’t look at me like that! I’ll even be your wingman!” You could only gape at his words, the rest of his speech finally processing in your mind and only humiliating you further.

“You said the entire office has a bet on this?!” You whispered shouted, feeling your cheeks heat up as you thought about all the times you’d caught people staring at you whenever you and Choso spoke. It all made sense now, though really, you had hoped you’d just been paranoid. The reality of it all was much more horrifying than your mind.

“Well… Yes… We weren’t aware that you were trying to keep it lowkey, sweets…” You groaned at his words, moving to slam your head onto his desk but his hand reached over blocking you from doing so.

“Does… Does he know?” You asked, unable to look at him in the eyes.

“I think you know the answer to that…”

“I’m putting my two weeks in.”

“Nonsense! Sweets, you have this in the bag alright? And especially if you have me as your wingman! So here’s the plan-“

And so you found yourself standing awkwardly in the corner of the stupid Christmas party Satoru had thrown to “boost morale”. You had to give him credit though, despite your sour mood - the rest of the office seemed to actually be having fun. The dance floor was filled with your coworkers dancing and talking together - Satoru in the middle of it all of course, eyes bright and santa hat tilted atop his head. The man didn’t even have to drink to have that much fun, you couldn’t help but smile at the realization.

“He seems to be enjoying his own party.” Your eyes widened at the all too familiar voice next to you, swallowing your drink harshly as you turned to look at him.

Kamo Choso. Looking devastatingly handsome in a white button up, sleeves rolled up and exposing his forearms. The black slacks he wore always were a joy to witness. And as if you needed any other reason to gawk at the gorgeous man in front of you, he had decided to wear his hair down. Oh, what a treat.

“Huh? Oh! Er.. Uhm, yeah, he’s quite the party enjoyer.” You inwardly cringed at yourself, party enjoyer?! Really?

Choso only laughed, looking back over at your friend who was now doing the sprinkler - Suguru and Shoko throwing confetti at him as if it was money.

“I take it you’re not?” He asked, looking back at you before taking a sip of his own drink. You could only shrug, “I guess I prefer a quiet night in…”

“Me too.” He said, nodding to himself.

“Y/n!” You felt your entire body tense at Satoru’s call, eyes closing in fear of what was to come.

Sure enough, an arm was thrown around your shoulder. “Oh, hello, Cho!”

“It’s Choso.”

“We’re all pals here are we not? Anyway! This is perfect, i’ve been trying to get Y/n on the dance floor all night but since we’re all paired up already, do you mind a few rounds with my good friend here?”

You felt like pinching yourself, wanting so desperately to wake up from this very obvious nightmare you were having.

Unfortunately, the pinch only added to your pain and suffering.

“Uhm…”

“You really don’t have to do that, Choso. Our boss here was unfortunately dropped far too often as a child and it clearly must have caused irreversible damage.” You said, glaring at Satoru who only let out a loud laugh before patting your back far too harshly causing you to stumble forward.

“Have fun! Not too much fun though.” He winked, walking away leaving you to clean up the mess he’d caused.

“I’m… So sorry…” You cringed out. Not having the heart to face the man next to you.

Much to your surprise, he only let out a chuckle.

“Don’t be - I’ve actually been meaning to ask you to dance but couldn’t figure out how to so I guess now I’ll just have to thank him later.. If you’ll have me of course…”

Yuta

“Yuji what the hell are these?” You asked as you stared down at the ridiculously bad pictures Yuji had taken on your phone. You had put your entire trust in him seeing as he had been bending down and allegedly breaking his back to take “the perfect photos” but as you stared at the blurry atrocities on your phone - it was clear that while he meant well, Yuji was far to hyperactive to take steady photos.

“Huh? whats wrong with them?” He asked, leaning over your shoulder to look at them with you.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with them?! Are these even of me? This is a blurry picture of a dog!” You whined, hearting the picture so it’d be put into your favorites folder - it was actually a pretty cute dog, blurry or not.

“Aw man! I must’ve accidentally had the one second delay on them, i’m sorry.” He said, grabbing your phone so he could get a closer look at the photos.

“It’s okay. I don’t even really need them anyway.” You sighed, patting his head. He only pouted, handing you your phone.

“Maybe you show up in Maki’s pictures? Or inumaki’s! He took some too!” Yuji said.

“What about my pictures?” Maki asked before you could say anything. You and Yuji looked over as she walked closer to you and Yuji, Inumaki and Megumi following behind her.

“I took crappy photos of Y/n so I was just talking about your photos and how you might have better pictures of everyone!” Yuji explained, sitting next to you.

“Why’d you take crappy photos?” Maki asked, frowning at Yuji who only let out an offended scoff.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” He replied only causing them both to argue if it had been intentional or not.

“Guys! It’s fine, really, but if I happen to show up in the background of any of your guys’ pictures then send them my way please.” You begged, clicking off your phone before leaning back on the bench you were all squeezed onto.

The campus was abnormally empty, though with the temperature dropping you couldn’t say you were surprised. Sitting outside during the winter was not something any of the other students wanted to do so you guys chose to sit there to avoid the indoor crowds. Nobara, Yuta and Panda refused to go out in the cold if it could be helped so you all usually met in the library once Nobara sent you a text telling you that the crowds had dispersed.

“Oh! Wait, I’m pretty sure I remember Yuta taking photos of everyone.” Maki said causing you to look away from Megumi and Yuji who were debating if your professors Geto and Gojo were dating or not. They just seemed to have too much unspoken energy in the air around them.

“Yeah maybe of you guys.” You sighed. Maki rolled her eyes at you, “i’m serious. He’s the likely candidate for having pictures of you. Good ones too - you’ve seen his portfolio.”

You could only shrug at her words, unlocking your phone again to see if maybe you’d missed any hidden gems.

There was nothing.

“Just ask him, Y/n! Why are you so scared?” Maki sighed, grabbing your phone and forcing you to look at her.

Your only hope was Yuta Okkotsu - the guy who honestly would’ve been your first choice (aside from Megumi who was too busy with finals to join your group) but unfortunately for you, he hated your guts.

“Oh my Gods he does not hate you.” She groaned, as she scrolled through the pictures. You watched as she grimaced at them only furthering your feeling of despair.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t even need the pictures or anything.”

“Need them or not - Yuta will have some. So speak now or forever hold your peace.” Maki said handing you your phone back.

“Well, lucky for me I enjoy my peace quite a bit.”

The week had passed with you refusing to ask Yuta for pictures. Maybe he didn’t actually hate you but you highly doubted he liked you.

Every time you’d try to speak to him, he’d find an excuse to leave the conversation as soon as possible. If it was ever just the two of you waiting for the rest of the group, he’d miraculously always receive a silent phone call that he just had to answer. If you ever asked to hang out (though this had been closer to the beginning of your friendship with the group) he’d find an excuse for that too.

Overall, the guy avoided you like the plague and had never tried to get close to you despite the rest of the group being welcoming. You couldn’t help but let it bother you a little bit since you really didn’t think you’d done anything to start off on the wrong foot with him but at the end of the day - you also didn’t want to force a friendship with him if he wasn’t open to it.

You groaned into your pillow before pulling your phone out, your finger hovering over Yuta’s contact number.

You supposed it couldn’t hurt to just ask… Though as your luck would have it, your finger must’ve been hovering a little too close to the call button and now before you could even process it, the phone had started to dial his number making your eyes widen.

“Hello?” His voice sounded leaving you with your mouth wide open and your heart about to beat out of your chest.

“Uhm… Hello?” He asked again, making you sit up as you put the phone to your ear. “Oh! Uhm, hi, yes sorry! It’s Y/n…” You said, face palming.

“Yeah… I know…”

“R-right… Sorry, uhm, I was just calling because Maki had mentioned something about you taking photos the other day? Or, last week would be more accurate…” You let out an awkward chuckle as you were met with silence.

“Uhm, hello?” You asked after a moment. Had he hung up on you? You checked the screen only to see the call was still ongoing.

“Oh. Uhm. Yeah, I did but i’m not sure if they’re any good.” He muttered into the phone. Despite his tone, you couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled in your chest.

“Wait, really?! Wow! Is it okay if I stop by to see if-“

“Uhm, I don’t think… I mean, they’re not great. Probably too blurry - they won’t be any good.” He explained but you were far too excited.

“Trust me, anything will be better than Yuji’s blurry pictures.” You said, jumping off your bed and slipping on your shoes.

“I can be over in about ten minutes! Thank you so much!” You said, pulling your phone away from you so you could hang up.

You could’ve been at his dorm sooner but you figured you’d get him a coffee or something as both a peace offering and a thank you.

So with a coffee and a slice of pistachio cake you stood outside Yuta and Inumaki’s shared dorm room.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the door before it opened slowly. Yuta stood awkwardly, hands at his sides as he stared at you. You pushed through your discomfort and offered a smile before raising the treats towards him, “a small thank you - for your time and maybe for your photography skills as well.”

He only rubbed the back of his neck, glancing behind him before he cleared his throat, “uhm, look, I really don’t think you show up in any of the pictures or videos… So… Sorry to have wasted your time and stuff.” He muttered, not meeting your eyes.

You felt your eyes sting, hands lowering since he still hadn’t taken the cake or coffee from you. You were feeling rejected and embarrassed.

“Oh… Well, since i’m already here… Do you mind if I still look through? I’m sure they’re lovely regardless…” You asked, trying to keep face as you smiled up at him through teary eyes.

“I-… Uhm…” He sighed before moving sideways allowing you into his room.

You’d been in the dorm before, though it was the first time he had also been in there with you considering every time Inumaki invited you over Yuta was always suspiciously gone.

He was slow to pull out his laptop, clicking through files before he placed it down in front of you.

“These are the only ones that were salvageable.” He muttered, allowing you to click through.

Sure enough, they were gorgeous. Yuta was the only one in your group with a professional grade camera and a certain eye for photography as well so it really was a no-brainer that they’d be perfect. You couldn’t help but smile at the photos of your friends. Small ache in your chest as you realized that he had taken special care in not including you in any of them. He’d even gotten some of Yuji, who had been glued to your side the entire day, and managed to not even have a finger of yours in frame. Truly talented he was.

As you clicked through, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the recently opened file, your eyes landing on a file with your name on it, excitement filling your chest.

Figuring they’d probably just be the non-cropped versions of what you had already seen, you clicked on the file without really giving it a second thought.

Instead of that though, you were met with an entire portfolio of just you. Pictures of you smiling, closeups of your hands and eyes, videos of you just existing loading onto the screen.

“Oh…” Was the only thing you were able to whisper. “They’re… They’re beautiful, Yuta... But I- I thought you hated me?”

He stayed quiet, not meeting your eyes that had once again filled with tears. Happy ones this time.

“Yeah, well… Hopefully those work for you… I’ll uhm… I have to go but send yourself whichever ones you want.” He said, grabbing his backpack before darting out the door, leaving you with far too much to process.

a/n; tysm for reading <3 comments n reblogs always welcome ! oh and yes ! this is very much based on the movie love actually ! :3

[ahoyakosi-kape]

EDIT: Seeing all of this pointless nonsense like "a lot of people hate het ships because they aren't willing to engage with fictional relationships that involve women" gives me headaches. I hope you can acknowledge that mlm ships are still important because THEY'RE QUEER, THAT CONSERVATIVES ARE SEEKING TO CENSOR. While also noting that certain "fujoshis" are presenting sexist trash. After decades of heterosexual ships being the norm, it's now "if you hate het ships, that's because you hate women" instead of "hehe, het ships are awesome when they're bi4bi / t4t." The idea that watching men kissing men wears you out is simply embarrassing. Especially if you complain about it publicly. You suddenly sound like a right-wing jerk who hates Pride Month updates on games, even if they have been around longer than their ejaculation. If you see mothers in their 80s watching gay porn, you guys would faint. And no, whining about White homosexual guys cosplaying as Black women isn't the same as being "uncomfortable" with the amount of mlm fanfiction—the former is a real problem because it hurts Black women and the community. It's also a serious situation that White gay men would evoke their Whiteness first and last. Women drawing gay porn should be the least of your problems. If you told me that gay men aren't legitimate because they're males, I wouldn't be surprised at all. Stop propagating radfem talk. As a girl participating in fandom like millions, I acknowledge that it can be challenging to see female characters examined engagingly. It just stings that all the focus is placed on male characters with similar motifs. There are harmful clichés thrown around, like "disposable girlfriend" or "jezebel." It's evident in Arcane fandom. "They make the woman be a fujoshi/cuck so it's accessible to ignore them" is something I've read, and I agree. It's questionable; it's unwarranted. Nonetheless, it's simple to overlook half of their content without coming across as hostile. I know it's absolutely tempting to educate them, to lash out, to call them a "stupid bitch"—but if they're that idiotic, nothing can be pursued. You do not want to waste your IQ. I block some fujoshis that piss me off because it's just common sense. Yet, I keep wondering if there's an appropriate solution for it. Unfortunately, everyone's answers include "ban BL content so fans would be put to shame!" and the fact that it tolerates conservative and puritanical discourse, which backfires into endorsed homophobia (yes, it always does). You struggle to ensure civility in the face of your hatred for yaoi—yaoi that incels and dudebros despise—and are prepared to eradicate it because it is "woke trash." How much are you willing to redefine fictitious heterosexuality as a "feminist empowerment" concept? Is this not insane to you? Are all the discussions about heterosexuality being 'a tool of patriarchy' meant nothing to you? Are all those repugnant comments from dudebros in a Facebook anime fanpage that fuel your spite to create gay shit—gone? Are you really gonna woke-ify heterosexuality? The same material that's weaponised to hurt queerness? It's exasperating that many fans are driving fictional women/of colour away from romance just for White men's yaoi to be the spotlight. I know the problem, it's not for nothing, and we want to provide solutions. But, I'm begging you, with clasped hands and kneeling, there's a suitable method to talk about this without coming out as your reactionary grandfather who despises communism. Don't be soft, but be stern. Don't insinuate yourself with tactless bullying. Be clever. It's not an excuse to indulge homophobia. You have to know when to recognise intersectionality. Some fans are rancid, I know, but queerness is still queerness. Fiction and reality. Saying something like that is literally anti-gay with progressive language. Performative activism has hurt you enough.

Anyway, I think we should all just inject fentanyl into our veins for progressing like this. It's really embarrassing. I think queer people in the 90s would have a stroke seeing us with this behaviour.

[sillygoofyqueer]

IT'S @eyalsfantasy's BIRTHDAY AND I WAS NOT INFORMED UNTIL LIKE TEN MINUTES AGO. I'M GOING TO BEAT IT UP, BUT ONLY AFTER I GIVE HIM A PROPER BIRTHDAY POST DEDICATED TO ITS PROMPT OF 'Therapy dog trainer lwj helping wwx get over his fear of dogs???' Don't question the question marks he did not answer under duress. Wei Ying's fear of dogs is well-known to everyone in his life. Some taunt him for it, others pity him for it, but very few understand why he's scared of them. 'They're so sweet and friendly!' 'How could anyone hate dogs??' 'I know dogs mauled you when you were a child, but my dog's an angel, you shouldn't be scared.' This, of course, doesn't make him suddenly have an entire change of heart and start liking dogs, and he has never had the urge to try and solve his issue with them. After all, he can just scream and climb the nearest tall thing in order to escape them, and that seems like a pretty good solution to his fear without having to pay for things like 'exposure therapy'. Paying to be trapped in a room with a monstrous beast that was probably plotting the best way to catch him off guard so it could lunge at him and rip him to shreds? No, thank you very much.

However, something changes his mind on the whole matter - it's not a sudden thing, but gradual, paired with an instance that keeps occurring when he's hanging out with his didi. Whenever a demon dog comes sniffing around near them, Wei Ying obviously reacts with horror and fear, either sprinting off to clamber up the nearest tree/lamppost/etc or diving behind A-Cheng and clinging to him with all of his strength. A-Cheng goes about shooing the dog away, because he is a faithful didi despite all of his complaining, but there is always a moment of hesitation before he goes about it. Even through the haze of fear and panic clouding his mind, Wei Ying can always see this sort of wistful longing in his expression before it disappears and he's ushering them away with a frown. Wei Ying may hate dogs, but Jiang Cheng has always loved them. It's not fair that his didi can't have a stupid monster because of him.

He ponders this very heavily over a long period of time, lounging around in his apartment and glaring at the ceiling - if only he wasn't traumatised by dogs, his didi could have whatever oversized rat that he wanted! Despite himself, he finds himself reluctantly searching up variations of 'dog exposure therapy' because 'exposure therapy for dogs' makes services targeted towards dogs show up (what the fuck do those devils have to be afraid of?! They can just maul any threats!!), researching what such services would entail. It's a little embarrassing to see that most content is targeted to help children with cynophobia, but hey, maybe his fear should have been dealt with before it got to this stage! When making any major life decisions (especially ones that involved lots of money), Wei Ying eventually turns to his jiejie, who has just had a little munchkin and is turning those mothering instincts on him as well now.

With encouragement and support from Yanli - 'oh A-Xian, this is so sweet! And brave!' - he finds himself staring suspiciously at the rather unassuming house that had been recommended through many reddit threads for providing the best exposure therapy. It's a very typical house, white picket fence and all, and Wei Ying suddenly considers the possibility of his therapy-giver (Lan Zhan! What a nice name) being a serial killer who takes advantage of his patients' cynophobia to kill them and feed their bodies to the dogs. Oh god, he should not have thought that, now he's too scared to go in! Then A-Cheng's wistful expression flashes through his mind and suddenly he's reminded of the fact that he's doing this for his didi's sake and, if he is murdered, A-Cheng can't be too mean at his funeral, because he died for him. Logic considered, he braces himself and moves through the front garden to knock upon the front door.

Lan Zhan never knows what to expect with his patients; he has dealt with people of all kinds that want to overcome their fear of dogs, for all sorts of reasons, so when the knocks sound out, he isn't sure what waits upon the other side. After taking a second to ensure that everything is in place, he goes to answer the door with a "you must be Wei Ying-" only to find his words stuck in his throat at the sight of the impossibly gorgeous man standing on the doorstep. High cheekbones, sharp grey eyes and a bright smile that is tinged with nervousness but also draws attention to the mole that is surely there for biting- STOP right there, Lan Zhan. That is a PATIENT, and an obviously nervous one at that. Have some damn respect, you shameless human being. He gestures for Wei Ying to come in, stepping aside and firmly looking away from any...assets the man may have.

Wei Ying starts rambling the moment he is sat down on the couch, and it becomes evident that Lan Zhan will have to work hard when it comes to exposing the man to dogs - if he had been younger and more close-minded, he may have been insulted by such a hostile reactions towards the furry companions. Of course, he learned of the root cause of Wei Ying's aversion to dogs through emails when they were setting up the appointment, but to hear it straight from the source, in such a forced tone of lightness, sends a pang through him that he didn't think was possible after hearing all sorts of stories through patients. He's suddenly extremely glad that he decided to have Gege take Bichen on his daily walk instead of putting him upstairs; it seems as though they have a long way to go until Wei Ying is even comfortable with that level of distance between he and a dog.

[smimon]

Shit I thought I already had it behind me but I never really told anyone so I'm afraid it will keep haunting me? Or maybe someone out there needs to hear it. Whatever, another vent post let's go.

Content warning: bullying, dysfunctional family

Yo so I always found it difficult to be an artist in my family house, because of the treatment I received from family members.

My brother kept ridiculing everything I draw specifically to make me feel bad. He would look at the drawing I'm making and then point and laugh and joke. Sometimes when I was not drawing at the moment he would randomly start talking about my artstyle and why he finds it lame and stupid. Sometimes he did it in front of our friends.

My mother didn't even look at my drawings and only kept shaking her head and complaining how I should stop being so childish and find a more mature hobby, like babysitting any boring man of my choice.

My father mostly ignored my drawings, but sometimes he would point a single insignificant detail and make a sarcastic, misinterpreting comment that only he found funny and left me in tears like that.

Grandma kept wondering why am I even drawing at all because she can't see any appeal in it. She meant it in a lighthearted way and took grave offense when I didn't respond with laughter, but up to this day I don't know what she was expecting.

This made me feel bad, and I didn't want to feel bad, and I only saw two solutions. First, my mother's preferred, was to just stop doing art. But I'm an artist, you can't stop artist from doing art. The second solution was to just avoid any opportunity for my family members to see my art. So I developed this habit of covering the paper with my whole body whenever someone entered the room. (I didn't have my own space until I moved out to boarding school so this was happening quite frequently). A habit that took me years to get rid of, with all the patience and help from my artist friends. And even today I still have this instinct in me. (I know what could heal me, but I need a better internet connection for that - I thought of doing speedpaints and livestreams! Maybe next year)

On the other hand, there was always my best friend with all the love and support for my art. I couldn't really understand it after all that was happening at home, but I think without that I would just give up. Then I got internet connection and started posting my art online, and other people started coming to say they like my art. It surely did feel like mocking, but with all my might I chose to believe they genuinely enjoy it, and just rolled with it.

And where am I now? Confidently calling myself an artist, producing silly drawings on a daily basis, no shame, no regrets, connecting with people through my art, even providing something meaningful every once in a while. Does my family know about it? Hell no, and they will never know!!!

Oh dear, if only I knew back then how comfortable I will become with art. Actually, no, I would never believe that. But this is a message that still needs to be send:

Life is difficult but love persists! Life is hard but passion remains! All the bad days will come to an end!!!

[unsentimentaltranslator]

When I was active in Harry Potter fandom, I used to always argue with people about Kreacher. They’d say “he was treated badly by wizards and he was just retaliating” and I’d always reply “but he always knew who the most vulnerable groups were and targeted them. He didn’t go for the most privileged wizards; he called the marginalised one a slur.”

That’s something I see with IRL customer discourse without fail. Abusive customers are called “Karens”, despite the fact that male customers are the most threatening, the most violent, and throw in a shitload of sexual harassment to boot, because it’s not fun if you can’t find a way to punch down. Making fun of a stutter or an old lady provides a way to punch down. Messing with young women’s drinks to ruin their selfies provides a way for a male barista to punch down. The whole Thing with Jorts on Twitter started with a black woman complaining about detrimental treatment by Instacart shoppers. By the sounds of things, all US airlines have a track record of breaking passengers’ wheelchairs, and a passenger on United Airlines died because of it (a black woman, how coincidental that she was the one whose life was rough-handled.) And to this day I wonder if the infamous incident where United Airlines beat up a passenger for saying “sorry, I can’t give up my seat; I have to go perform surgery on an old person” would have happened if it had been a white man instead of a Vietnamese-American one.

Like. Let’s be fucking real about what’s happening here. Y’all aren’t punching up; you’re just looking for avenues where you can punch down.

Relatedly, Good Customers need to stop ragging on other customers over stupid, inconsequential bullshit (I have worked in fast food and retail. Your friend who politely speaks up when they make a mistake with her order is not the problem, and neither is your sister who doesn’t know how to refold T-shirts the way we were trained to) and pretending that’s the same thing as actually speaking out to an abusive customer. Either grow a fucking spine or just come to terms with the fact that you’re not a hero.

And quit acting like calling corporate out on their shit is the same thing as directing one’s anger at a frontline employee. Passengers of my country’s airline successfully got the CEO to walk back two greedy decisions he’d made because we know that shaming corporate in the media works at least some of the time. How tf are y’all going to call yourselves leftists and then call other passengers “gate lice” for lining up early because your airlines don’t manage their overhead locker space well enough to provide space for everyone? I’ve been on packed ass long haul Christmas flights on my country’s airline and still never had that problem. Stop defending US airlines’ greedy ass stock buyback-making Trump-donating executives so that you can look like the Nicest Passenger; they’re grooming you to put up with more and more of their shit.

In conclusion, the solution to “the customer is always right” is not “the customer is always wrong” and the belief that it is will only ever result in consumers being unjustly screwed over. You are a consumer; get comfortable with that and learn how to handle the nuance that is required in a society where workers and consumers both get fucked over as much as the ruling class can get away with.

very controversial opinion here, but sometimes customer service workers are the problem 😶

[httpwammy]

Comforting HC

What do they do to comfort you + How they like to be comforted 

L LAWLIET

What do they do to comfort you

Not good at comforting, really.

But he tries, and we’re giving him points for that

Provides information or facts to help you deal with the problem or lighten the load.

Focus more on the practical side of problem-solving. 

For instance, What can you actively do to better your situation? What are your pros? 

And so on.

7/10 when it’s an amotional problem

10/10 when it’s literal issue

+ How he like to be comforted

L would like it subtle. 

I don't see L being fond of sharing what he feels, let alone allowing other people near him when he's not okay. 

So I think giving him space I think giving him space to process his emotions before approaching would be the best.

Once you do, softky touch his shoulder and say something soothing. If he feels comfortable, L will seek more contact, if not, don't push it.

BEYOND BIRTHDAY

What do they do to comfort you

Provides unique ideas to approach the best ways to deal with whatever it's saddening you.

Unconventional solutions that make you laugh.

Don't submit to a problem. Dominate it. Aggressively.

8/10 It cheers you up, but is not very helpful.

+ How he like to be comforted

I think B is surprisingly susceptible to fall for sweet touches and hugs. 

Talk softly to him, and listen what's troubling him before asking if he wants you to say something or just remain beside him in silence.

MELLO 

What do they do to comfort you

Comforting doesn't exactly come easy to him, but out of all the other Wammy boys, Mello's the most empathetic, so yeah.

One of Mello's best boyfriend qualities is that he's understanding.

He'd listen to you first, to then expose what he thinks you should do.

More often than not, however, Mello doesn't see a problem where you do, and he may think you're fussing over nothing. 

But it's because he's a bit desensitized thanks to years on the street and in the mafia. Yet, Mello would never deem you stupid for how you feel. At least not out loud lol

8/10

+ How he like to be comforted

Not as hard to comfort as you might think.

Praising works nicely enough. 

Drive his attention to the bright side of the problem, as you add he's cunning enough to turn anything on his favor.

A soft bump on the side of his arm does pretty good too, for encouragement

MATT

What do they do to comfort you

Matt buys you stuff to make you feel better. Mostly food, I think.

Would try to make you laugh

9/10

+ How he like to be comforted

I think he would appreciate acts of service as a comforting method.

Make him drink, and help him do the chores he ignores when depression hits. 

Matt would highly appreciate that. Make him feel you can take care of him.

NEAR

What do they do to comfort you

It takes this man a few times (in which he intentionally hurt your feelings) to get the hang of it.

Probably the only one that considers your personality to find the best way to comfort you. 

Do you prefer that he hugs you? Okay, Near can handle that. Would you like that he offers ways in which you can deal with the problem? Count on it! 

Do you want to complain without doing anything else? Okay, that's a bit frustrating, but if that's what you need, Near is happy to provide it.

8/10

+ How he like to be comforted

I think Near would find comfort in silent company.

Sit beside him, and wait for him to be ready to talk. When he does, listen. 

I think that Near appreciates it when you make an effort to understand what he's feeling rather than focusing on telling him how to handle his feelings.

[sukirichi]

earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the  glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you��re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

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[solomonish]

selfless (to a fault?) [nowdateables]

CW: allusions to past toxic relationships.

brothers here!

Diavolo

So. Diavolo might not notice right away. It’s not ignorance! He’s just very busy, and public appearances are important to keep up, so one of the ways he keeps up with you happens to be exactly what you have trouble accepting. Large bouquets sent to the House of Lamentation when you’re there, a word sent out to any of his staff out where you may be to make your life easier however possible (Mammon tries to tag along with you all the time, hoping to hear the magic words: “His highness has graciously waived the fee for all exchange students’ purchases today!”) - and he’s not even there to see the way your smile looks a little more like a grimace, or the way you stare uncomfortably at the little gift.

He seems to love that you are so willing to try and help him out - even if there isn’t much you can do, since he handles a lot of sensitive documents and information. But, considering he’s so lonely, when it comes to reciprocating he sort of follows your lead?

He knows, on a surface level, how to be in a relationship, but considering you’re a human AND he doesn’t have a lot of interpersonal relationships for practice...he sort of follows your lead, and hopes your way of giving love is the same as your way of receiving.

You’ll have to bring it up to him, which is a nerve-wracking experience on its own, eased only by the fact that you know Diavolo has done his best to make sure you KNOW you can bring up any issues you have. He is very good at opening his ears to you and helping you problem solve, and when dealing with the things he cares about (yes, YOU) he is very direct about problem solving.

The moment you stand before him, Diavolo notices the way you fidget with your hands and almost refuse to look at him directly. He immediately stops what he’s doing, putting everything down and turning in his seat. If he’s at his desk, he gestures for you to come to his side and asks you directly - “What’s wrong?”

It seems terrible to directly accuse the prince of wanting to manipulate you, so instead you ask, “What did you want in exchange for those gifts?” And for a moment, he does not know what you are talking about. First of all, WHICH gifts, there’s so many, and secondly did he come across as wanting something in return other than your happiness?

No matter what he was doing before, he will set aside all of the time he needs to at least start to communicate to you that he has no ulterior motives with his gifts to you. If you’d like him to stop with such blatant displays of affection, he will, but it’s more important to him that you know he is only trying to communicate how he feels when he cannot do it directly.

Barbatos

This is a relationship where you might have to bring it up before you even start dating. Either that or he WILL get a hint before then. He’s a butler! Not only is he normally serving other people, he is a master at standing in the back and watching people. He notices the way you awkwardly hold your tea cup after he gives it to you, or decline anything that he offers you when given the chance. It just comes up by nature of who he is.

Before he is interested in pursuing a relationship, he simply brushes it off as the unfamiliarity of having someone wait on you. Perhaps you’re particularly independent, or you just never really are in a situation where someone waits on you like he does. Either way, it isn’t really much of his business.

But...it is very obvious in a relationship. He just...defaults to helping others. Sure, he knows how to separate work and his personal life (though, to be fair, there is not much of a “personal life” there with how much time work takes up, so maybe that needs to be revisited. some day...) but even with that separation he enjoys providing solutions for people and helping out. It brings him joy to help make your life a little easier if he can help, and it’s something he’s good at.

Still, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he definitely doesn’t want to make you think that he’s treating you the way he treats people as a job. If he wanted to, he could most likely peer into different timelines or even into your past, try to figure out what’s bothering you...but he knows better than to creep into places you haven’t explicitly told him you want him. Besides, communication is important, and this seems a prime opportunity to put that to use.

So he asks you one day when you visit him at the castle, after he notices your hesitation to respond to him when he offers to help you with something you were complaining about. “Why does it make you uncomfortable when I offer my assistance to you?”

You freeze for a moment. “Wouldn’t you be able to find that out on your own?” “Would you like me to?” “...no, not really.”

He isn’t one to press you for information, or to ask a thousand times if you know he’d never use any of his attempts to make your life in the Devildom easier against you. Barbatos will listen to what you have to say intently and do his best to mesh to what you think you’re most comfortable with. He does intend to help you accept help as much as he can, but it’ll be so subtle you’ll hardly even notice. With the little amount of time he already gets with you, he’s already practiced in making the most of it - what’s one more little task to the greatest butler in all the realms?

Solomon

See, this is a relationship that doesn’t necessarily depend on the whole “acts of kindness” thing. (Like, it does to the same degree any relationship does, but considering I think you’d both be pretty independent people and the helping each other aspect normally comes from things you’re doing together anyway. If that makes sense.)

Still, he does notice how...surprised you look when he surprises you with a flashy spell he learned, or when he hears you complaining about your course load or Lucifer’s expectations for you. You decline every single offer he gives you to help, and you never look as happy as he hopes you will when he shows you his spells. (Depending on what stage you are at in the relationship, how is he supposed to impress you if you never want him to do things for you !!!)

However, he is accustomed to holding information close to his chest, and he isn’t always the best at asking about people’s emotions. So, even though sometimes you jump at the opportunity to help him collect ingredients for potions or find one book in massive libraries or craft things for enchantments and spells but you REFUSE to let him help you study for a class he could pass without even listening to one of the lectures, he silently suffers and hopes you’ll breach the subject on your own.

Which you do. Kinda. He’s trying to convince you to let him help you with paying back the debts of one of Mammon’s schemes he dragged you into - figuring two bodies on the job will get it done faster and, in turn, he can have more time with you later - but he makes the mistake of rationalizing it with, “Well, since you help me out so much, maybe I could-”

“Don’t! Don’t...say that. We don’t owe each other anything.” You give him a tight smile that’s OBVIOUSLY fake. “I help you because I want to.”

“And I want to help you. Why won’t you let me? What’s up?”

The conversation is...uncomfortable. Solomon isn’t the best at handling vulnerability. But he doesn’t judge you for a second, and he gets the fear that you have in the back of your mind. Especially since people keep telling you not to trust him and that he’s shady...this relationship is pretty dependent on a thorough trust between the two of you. But he doesn’t mind proving himself a little more, so long as you’ll be gracious enough to give him a chance.

Simeon

Simeon is really good at vibing out somebody’s boundaries and comforts. Call it angelic intuition, but he also has a feeling about you that makes a little too much sense when he notices how you shy away from any offers of assistance.

A little thinking, and suddenly the way you stretch yourself thing to help the brothers at any moment makes a lot of sense too. (And, of course, he is pleased to know everyone considers everyone to be family. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t two main causes!)

Angels naturally want to ease the strife of the humans they come across, and even though Simeon knows that it might make you uncomfortable, he finds himself unknowingly putting you in awkward positions with how often he reaches out to make your life easier.

Bringing you homework that you missed, being your escort when the brothers are busy, buying you lunch just because - he’s a bit of a sweetheart and it’s in his blood to do these things, and he only remembers how it hurts you when you uncomfortably shift before taking the only option he’s given you - accept what you don’t want.

He sits you down one day, letting you know it’s bound to be a healing conversation between the two of you. Fortunately, he has a knack for making you feel comfortable and safe, so he has a slightly easier time getting you to pen up to him.

The moment you even hint at him having ulterior motives, you feel stupid. Even when he assures you that it’s alright, saying it out in the open feels...wrong. That doesn’t shake the feeling or ease your fears, but it does make addressing things a bit easier.

Simeon has no problem helping to draft a plan for re-affirming your trust in genuine love and kindness. He also inserts himself directly into the plans - what, you thought he wouldn’t? Simeon will remind you what it feels like to be cared for with no expectation of return. don’t get him wrong though, he’ll take a lil kiss or something if u want...

Luke

You can’t say no to him. Unfortunately, he bakes a LOT and he is all too eager to be your personal guard dog guardian angel.

When you do decide to let him know why you look so uncomfortable when he tries to do something for you (giving him an abridged version, of course) - and he, in all his energy, does not seem to get the hint to STOP ASKING - you can see him literally just chill out. One minute he’s vibrating with pure energy and the next he’s just. Still.

He half wants to get indignant on you, but he knows that’s not a good response. Instead he just sort of stands there, watching you for a minute, until he blurts out with zero grace - “What would I even have to do that for??”

He realizes it’s a terrible response the moment it comes out of his mouth, but you seem to be okay with it if your awkward chuckle is anything to go with. Luke starts pouting just a little bit, more upset with himself that he’s completely failing at handling this situation. “I’m just nice to you because you’re nice and you deserve it. There’s nothing else to it.”

He’s a sweet boy, and he doesn’t wanna lose his favorite taste-tester. He’s got the spirit.

[iangitax]

The genocide run being intended as this creepypasta-esque thing is super important. Undertale, unlike Deltarune, was designed without the understanding that the game would become immensely popular. Discussions of Undertale’s themes tend to take on this birds-eye view where we can see the consequences of every decision mapped out before us; it’s a very different experience through the lens of someone who doesn’t know how the game works.

Undertale is designed to be as reactive to the player as possible. Generally, if you think of something stupid to try, it will be rewarded with a bit of narrative or a hidden gag. The spare/kill dichotomy is at the core of this; the tree of unique neutral endings for every possible variation of bosses spared versus killed demonstrate it nicely. The various metafictional elements of the narrative similarly allow the game to fold every aspect of your interactions with it into the magic circle.

What makes the game stand out so much though is the way it plays with the signals it sends to the player in order to make said reactions feel unexpected. The very first NPC the player encounters is Flowey, who delivers a deliberately misleading tutorial, followed shortly by Toriel’s own faulty guidance. That cumulates in the Toriel fight. Up until now, attempting to spare enemies has resulted in immediate and obvious feedback. Toriel does not respond to any attempts to spare her, and it takes a significant number of turns before her patterns change at all. Thus, it’s very likely for a blind player to assume they have no choice but to attack her, especially since lowering a normal monster’s HP also allows you to spare them. (Asshole neutral route where you beat everyone up but then spare them afterwards is a very funny way to play that more people should do.)

I see people complain about this type of thing a lot, as the game judging you for engaging with it on its own terms. I don’t think that’s really the point here though - the shock of the death scene is meant to make the game feel like it can react in ways you can’t anticipate. There are two other possible outcomes to the fight, and they both do so in their own ways. If the player is doing badly, Toriel attempts to avoid hitting them, and should the player get curious and deliberately get killed to see what happens she reacts with shock in the brief moment before the game over screen. Should the player persist in trying to spare Toriel, despite their own actions having little effect she will eventually wear out, her attack patterns weakening, and give up on stopping the player. Regardless of the player’s decisions, they are shown that the game will react in ways not only outside of what one would normally expect from an RPG but outside of its own internal language.

With that in mind, consider what the pacifist route asks of the player. Normal enemies can be spared by solving some sort of puzzle using ACT options. Boss fights, on the other hand, largely lack that puzzle element. They rarely if ever provide indicators as to your progress, and rather than providing hints as to how to spare them the game often builds up how dangerous and merciless your next foe will be. All of this cumulates with Asgore, a gruelingly long fight against a man who has, six times before, rejected the possibility of mercy. A man who every other character tells you will not surrender until you’re dead. A man who literally blows up the button on your UI that says “mercy” to indicate how unwilling to accept mercy he is. Consider how that looks to our blind player, who has no foreknowledge that there must be a pacifistic solution to the fight. It is probably not going to dissuade them, but it’s certainly enough to make them doubt themselves during turn after turn of no visible progress.

The thing Undertale asks of a blind player to complete the pacifist route isn’t being more skilled, or smarter, or to pick the morally correct option from a list. The thing it asks for is determination. It asks for the willingness to press on in spite of the whole world telling you to give up. It asks for you to have faith in the goodness of others, for you to believe in their ability to make the right decision if you give them a chance.

The genocide route, similarly, looks very different to a blind player. It’s easy to look at the genocide route from above, see the cool boss fights and exclusive content, and ask “why is the game punishing me for engaging with it?” For our hypothetical player though, the game has done nothing to telegraph that this route exists! They could easily replay the game many times over without ever encountering it. It takes an exhaustive degree of curiosity to try grinding for levels until every single enemy is dead. It’s designed under the assumption that the player has already ceased to engage with the game under its own terms. It’s a straightforward horror setup: you thought you were “safe,” that you were operating outside the boundaries of the narrative, but really you never escaped it. The game is still reacting to you, still alive. When you push it to its outermost limits, it fights back.

If the pacifist route requires you to believe in its characters, the genocide route assumes you don’t. That, through attempting to map out the possibilities of the game, you see them as fully within your control. That assumption doesn’t work a lot of the time, and you can certainly argue that’s a major flaw in the game’s structure, but I still find the end result compelling. (Deltarune, being designed with the knowledge of how popular it would be, is a lot more robust in the structure of its equivalent route.)

You've written extensively on Homestuck and its various progeny, I was wondering what your thoughts are on Undertale and Deltarune? In terms of exposure and cultural grip they seem to have eclipsed their forebears while retaining some of its DNA. Both works seem to, while eschewing some core Hussie-isms, retain an experimental mindset to their respective media as well as an interest in grappling with metanarrative topics.

I've only played Undertale, not Deltarune. On top of that, the last time I played Undertale was shortly after it came out, in 2015 or 2016. On top of THAT, I only played Undertale once, doing a pacifist run.

When I played Undertale in 2015, I loved it. It definitely "feels" Homestuck; it's as much as a spiritual successor to Homestuck you could ever get, created by Andrew Hussie's direct acolyte. You have the same humor, the same metafictional style, and the same music (sometimes literally the same music, in the case of Megalovania). There was a time where I would have counted it among my top 10 video games, a very prestigious list that otherwise consists of Final Fantasy 6, Cave Story, and 7 Nintendo games. (Actually Elden Ring is probably in that top 10 now, so I'm slightly more diversified.)

My interest in it has cooled significantly since then, though. Undertale has the same issue nearly all games with a moral choice element have, which is that they are only really interesting to play at the extremes (i.e., full good or full evil), and on top of that, by all accounts a Genocide run is a tedious, boring, and grindy slog that mandates you systematically root out and kill every generic enemy, with the only reward being two good and challenging boss fights. By playing the game only one, and only as a pacifist, I played the game the "correct" way, as any deviation from that route will openly accuse the player of being a piece of shit, but I also played the game in a way that most directly leads to a less complex, less fulfilling, and ultimately more forgettable experience. The game really does expect you to play it both ways, genocide and pacifist, which makes all its smarmy fourth-wall accusatory statements in genocide seem pretty hollow and pathetic in the end, no? It calls into question the whole thematic premise of the story, the whole metafictional element, and once that's gone all that really remains is some cute characters, memorable iconography, and banger music, which is all fine in its own right but not really something I'd consider a titan of the medium. It winds up feeling like a pale shadow of both Homestuck -- less expansive, less ambitious, less complex -- and its more oblique moral choice metacommentary forefather, Spec Ops The Line, which tied its question of the player's ability to choose good or evil within the rigid confines of a game to a real world soldier's ability to choose good or evil within the rigid confines of the military structures that guide them. (Spec Ops The Line is very Ender's Game in that regard.)

Again, though, it's been 10 years since I played it, so I might have forgotten some key component of what impressed me so much back then.

[ohheyitsokay]

ebb and flow

this takes place in my ‘poly frontier’ universe

pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco “Catfish” Morales, Ben “Benny” Miller and a female reader 

wordcount: 3.3k

warnings: all fics in this series are 18+, poly relationship domestic, romantic, and sexual intimacy. strong language, both implications of sex and brief explicit sexual content

note: this is set earlier in the relationship than “just a day” when there’s more they’re still figuring out

>>

Will, of all of them, had the hardest time with sharing you. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree – that it worked and was good, it’s just that he couldn’t stop… counting.

He wanted so badly to be steady for you. It made him fill with pride, almost shining with it when you called him your Ironhead. It was his pleasure, his joy, his job to be your rock, the best thing to come out of locking his heart away.

But he knew you liked it when he opened up, too, trusted you with the parts of himself that he was still figuring out. That was what he should do, whenever his vision blurred green, but it seemed petty and stupid.

At times, they each had to reign in their instincts to be possessive – you were theirs, after all. For Will it was small moments that piled up, stuck in his head like glue, coagulating until it was a jealous monster, growling and glaring and over-reading every moment.

You gave Ben and extra long hug. 3 seconds longer and a squeeze too. There was 11 minutes of his date with you that was wasted on the phone helping Santi with something. Twice in the last month he bumped into Frankie leaving your place when he arrived. That amounted to at least 6 minutes of conversation before he could go in and see you.

But the thing was, he couldn’t be mad, not at them for wanting you as badly as he did, or you, for doing your best to be enough for them all, and that left only one person. Himself.

You noticed, of course you did. He was your Ironhead - discerning and level and selfless and thoughtful. Of course you could tell when he yanked you a little closer, eyes flitting to the clock on his wrist or tapping his fingers, antsy, impatient. Counting. And you knew he would blame himself, for stupid reasons. Frankie noticed too, always the one who saw right through the other’s words, straight to their minds, their hearts. The two of you talked to Santi and Benny and as expected, neither of them even thought to complain. They knew him too, leaned on his strength in their own ways.

It made you feel giddy, the secret as you called his work and charmed them into letting him off early, as your other lovers made themselves scarce.

He came home confused – until he saw you sitting on the counter wearing his shirt. There was a second he froze, processing, and the next he was in-between your legs, mouth on yours and hands ghosting over your waist like he didn’t know if it was real. His kisses were firm, in stark contrast to the insecure tone of his voice as he asked, “How long?”

How long do I get you, until I have to give you up again?

You slid your hands from his hair down the sides of his face, thumbs in his beard, over his chest, before slipping them into his front pockets.

“As long as you want, Will.” His eyes had been watching your movements appreciatively, but they snapped up to meet yours.

“Really?”

He sounded happy, but a little disbelieving. As much as you enjoyed building the sexual tension between you, you moved to wrap your arms around him, trying ground him like he always did for you.

Your yes went into his beard. And he hugged you back, understanding, before gathering you up into his arms and off the counter. They were waiting for his okay, giving him giving him the gift of an uncountable evening.

And if he wasn’t going to be undistracted by counting down the minutes, he had plenty of better things to apply himself to. He whispered thank you to your into your skin 7 times, that night.

-

Towards the beginning, Santi struggled with the appearances of it. He hated having to explain himself, would honestly prefer it to never come up, but of course that was impossible. Hated not being able to take you out without knowing there could be judging, misunderstanding eyes on the back of your neck.

In his heart, it wasn’t as selfish as it sounded – it’s not that he wanted to be the guy who “won" or anything like that. He just wanted to show you off, take you places, do things with you. Splitting your time, or getting enough of them to organize something just made things messier, pulling his relationship with you out of his control.

So one evening, when the all of them were off for various reasons, you knew he’d be at a bar, pouring over case files he didn’t want to bring home.

It was easy, sliding up behind him, trailing your fingers over his broad shoulders before whispering in his ear.

“Hey, handsome,” and he turned. He knew it was you, of course he did, but when he looked at you, any words he had got caught in his throat before he swallowed them. You were wearing a little outfit he had never seen, a little bolder and a little sexier than you would normally choose. Bits of lace poked out in all the right places, and you tried not to beam with pride as his eyes darkened and raked over you.

“You look like you know how to show a girl a good time,” you added, introducing yourself to make sure he caught your drift. Gently, you fiddled with the hem of his shirt, the waistband of his pants, twirling your hair like you were really flirting with him. His beautiful jaw clenched a little, clearly thinking, and you knew you had him hooked. He couldn’t resist.

“Have we met?” it was sweet, watching him try to play it cool, like he wasn’t already rock hard for this, for you. You could feel it, as you pressed between his legs, and thanking your stars he’d picked a stool. His hands hovered a hair’s width away from your waist, waiting, and you only tortured him a moment longer – fingers just dipping in his jeans – before you confirmed.

“Not tonight.”

His grin was cocky, confidant and contagious, and you knew this was a good choice. Part of him surely wanted to drag you somewhere he could kiss you like he knew would make you wrap your legs around him, but the game , the opportunity was far too tempting. When his hands gently pushed you onto your own stool, and he bought you a drink with a Santiago Garcia, nice to meet you, you knew. It was indulgent, to spend the night flirting and falling in love like a “normal" couple and Santi couldn’t help but help himself.

There was a look in his eyes, even as he asked you questions he already knew the answers to, that was full of fire. It burned into you, possessive and powerful and a calculated level of restrained, and you felt light as ash, overwhelmed with the intensity of him.

For that, you were more than happy to play along.

-

Even before the very first kiss, Frankie liked to be the one who fixed your car. Or the one who helped clean up, or the one who opened the jars.

His ability to provide was the sword that parried his fear that he wasn’t enough for you, for any of you. And it seemed like an okay solution - every moment of self loathing for his mistakes countered with grateful smiles and relieved shoulders. He liked feeling like he was making the world better, making life easier for the his loves, liked the idea that he was in control of the value of his contributions.

And it would have been easy for you all to let him provide – he loved doing it, after all, but it was important that he knew that you didn’t love him because of his provision. He was your Catfish, worthy not because of the things he did, but because who he was.

You told him so, a day he insisted on grocery shopping and you insisted on joining him. When he heard you, a muscle in his cheek jumped and he almost dropped the melon he was holding. It didn’t sink it, you could tell because he brushed a kiss to your temple and thanked you without meeting your eyes.

It was hard to talk about because he was good at providing, and that in itself wasn’t a bad thing. Scanning the isles with purpose he knew what brands to get what everyone liked. Frankie had sharp eyes and ears and knew you all better than you knew yourselves.

As you followed him, and added your own observations, he took them gratefully and you knew it wasn’t going to be a single, grand moment that his mind understood, and that was okay.

You spend the evening kneading his back, his muscles jumping underneath your hands. When he murmured about needing to go read over something for Ben, you settled on his lumbar, wishing your knees were anchors and pressing kisses into his shoulders, promising it could wait. Telling him without words that he was allowed to enjoy the moment without earning it.

It made you smile, that you didn’t mention anything to the others, but they didn’t take advantage of him either.

If he came home with groceries, someone else would put them away, and the others would cook. When his eyebrows dipped and he offered to clean, you would gently, gently herd him out of the kitchen.

Any day of the week he looks through his bag and smile in spite of himself, overwhelmed with how you adore him for seemingly no reason. His gloves replaced, extra of his favorite snacks, or the occasional photo he had to hide from his coworkers. They’re consistent little reminders, telling him sternly that he is the reason and that is enough.

Together you fortify him from the inside out, a beautiful balance of accepting him for how he loves and matching it, reminding him the burden of provision is not on his shoulders alone. That what his does is a gift you all cherish, but who he is defined your love.

And when his hand is in your hair, and you’re kissing the inside of his thigh, knelt between his legs, you know he understands.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur, sliding up to lick along over the bone of his hip. Santi is behind you, and you feel him murmur his agreement against your neck. Your Catfish tilts your head up to look at him, and his brown eyes are warm and pleased and just a touch greedy.

“Show me,” his voice rasps, as though the words are foreign on his tongue and the selfishness of it half catches him off guard – he leans into it. You don’t see, but you’re sure the others catch it too – the gradual disappearance of transactional love.

Frankie provides for you, and you, for him.

-

It was predictable, maybe, but an honest problem, that both Miller boys had a relationship with you.

Will had always been the star, hair like sunshine and eyes like the ocean, first child and first pick on every team he’d tried out for, and even a couple he hadn’t.

Ben, your Benny, outgrew him in height, but the swathe of the shadow still choked him at times. Especially when it came to you, his darling girl, his biggest fan, and the absolute love of his life. How could he keep up with Frankie, a man who provided for you as naturally as he breathed, or Santi a living, walking hero, right out of the movies? How could he keep up with his brother, the man he’d looked up to since he could see?

He picked hobbies and girls and careers his brother didn’t, almost couldn’t see how much he glowed on his own, and he ached for you, to tell him. Remind him that you chose Benny. Not as a backup Will, or an off-brand. Not out of pity or convenience or greed.

And you did, because he wasn’t – not to you.

You needed him, had a love for him the others couldn’t provide. It was part of your love to be intentional with each of them: reaching for him, rewarding him with gasps of his name alone, but that wasn’t always the total of what you wanted to communicate.

So it worked out perfectly one night, you even plan it.

Ben woke up to one of you hands over his mouth, the other on his thigh, rubbing circles high on the inside. It felt like a dream, hazy and delicious, but your voice in his ear dragged him awake. It’s just me, shh, get up! Your tone was… needy, so thick with your arousal he would’ve been halfway to hard without the teasing of your hand. Swinging his long limbs, he focused on your hands, now tugging him insistently all the way down the stairs to the couch, still too drowsy to quite comprehend what was happening.

He could do one thing without thinking, though, so his mouth pressed into yours and you nearly toppled before pulling him down with you, grinding into him as you explained.

“I – oh! – I was dreaming about you,” you pulled away from his kisses to draw your tongue down the column of his throat. “Needed you, Ben,” you added, as if that wasn’t abundantly obvious. It occurred to him that you were keeping your voice quiet, like you didn’t want the others to hear.

“Dreamed about us, baby?” he thought he misheard, his strong hands pulling your core into his, too impatient for your moans to wait until you were both undressed.

“Oh fuck,” you wriggled against him, fighting to say words. “No, Ben, just you,” you barely managed it, but then he paused, still as a knockout.

Now he was wide awake, your words sinking into his skin like a brand, hot and sharp.

“Just me?” his deep voice was clear, like misunderstanding would kill him, and you mimicked his stillness, pulling back to look him in his sweet blue eyes.

“Yeah Benny,” a chaste kiss, as earnest and honest and raw as he was. He knew your tells, as well as he knew his own – you wouldn’t lie to him. “Just you.” Your smile, even in the dark of the living room was adoring, and the one he shot back was bright enough to light up the room.

It crashed into him, his sharp mind processing it all at once. You dreamed of him. Woke up, pulled away from his brother, slipped past the handsome other men who called themselves your lovers and brought him, alone, to bring you your pleasure. It didn’t just make him proud – it made it feel real how much you loved him, needed your Benny. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then your world spun, and he was on top of you, palming your breast through the shirt you were wearing. He was reveling in it, basking in it the reminder like oxygen in his blood. Once he made sure you were comfortable – ever the sweetheart – he cradled your jaw, eyes clouded with intensity and a lust thick with love.

“Let’s reenact it then, shall we?”

-

It was insane, overwhelming, and positively daunting, the idea of pleasing, loving, existing with four men. The very concept of balancing your care for each of them in every aspect of your lives.

Of you had loved each of them any less you couldn’t have done it, wouldn’t have even tried.

What were you doing? How selfish could one person be?

Wouldn’t then be happier in the long run if you would just choose?

It haunted you, the months spent on sweet dates and awkward moments and nervous laughter at the beginning of your relationship. The five of you took it slow, their bodies acting like walls, guarding you as much as you could from the whispering voices.

Reassuring voices came in many forms, and for awhile, it was more than enough to keep your doubt at bay.

And when the relationship progressed to physical intimacy, at first you thought it was gone – you could do this. You could make it work.

The more comfortable you all got with each other, the arrangement, the more exhilarating you assumed the fucking – the lovemaking – would be.

But sometimes things didn’t happen like you assumed they would.

You were hovering above Frankie, your Frankie, his dark eyes blown wide with pleasure, his cock half inside you as you slid down his length. Hands anchored to his chest, you breathed slow breaths, wondering at the anxious feeling that was bubbling up inside of you. Behind you, you could feel the warmth of Will’s chest, his cock gently grinding on your backside, hands on your hips by Frankie’s, his thumbs rubbing lines into your skin.

It was strange, the brush of his beard by your ear, as he rumbled, “Do you have one more for us, baby?”

It should have been delicious, the feel of them, their words and touches and the gazes of your other lovers as they settled nearby, but all of a sudden, it was too much.

Shrugging, you shuddered.

You didn’t even have time to find the safety word in the fog of your mind, Frankie pulled you off of him, concern written on his face as you sunk to a rest on the thick of his thighs. The movement of Will’s his ceased as his hands increased their soothing circles.

“It’s – I’m fine,” you gasped, coming out of your daze, embarrassment and panic rising in your throat. Shaking your head, trying to clear it, you reached for Frankie’s length, wanting to apologize for keeping him waiting.

Buying yourself time.

“Hey, hey,” Santi, your Pope, caught your wrists, worry lines etched into his forehead. “Slow down,” he instructed, and you shuddered again. He could be commanding if he wanted to, but he rarely told you to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, hands still occupied by his, feeling helpless.

You wanted to cry.

“Sorry for what?” Benny’s voice wasn’t as gentle as the others, lacking the practiced murmur, but it was exactly what you needed. It was so practical, so genuinely confused, you huffed in laughter and it was the first real exhale in long moments. His blues found yours, the dip of his eyebrows confirming his sentiments – you did nothing wrong.

You felt Will’s sigh as he coaxed you down onto the mattress, but as he pulled you into his arms, you realized he wasn’t disappointed in you.

“Should’ve known,” his annoyance was at himself, for getting too caught up to notice your signs. “This is too much, isn’t it?”

“It shouldn’t be,” you grumbled, still feeling embarrassed, trying to sit in the narrow space between him and Frankie.

Benny laughed, and even Santi cracked a smile when he spoke.

“Taking four fucking dudes in one night?” He gestured around at their bodies, looking at you incredulously. They were all solid, handsome and formidable, nothing to be taken lightly on their own, much less together.

You flushed.

“I just need a bit of a break, and then we can try again,” you offered, and Frankie joined their smiles, his worry lowering with your stress, and bumping his forehead into yours. Sliding off the bed, Santi was shaking his head as he went off to the bathroom.

“We can if you want, love,” Will pushed Frankie away just enough to kiss your temple. “But trust me when I say we’re good.”

“But –”

“Babe, it’s been three fucking hours,” he said with a squeeze. That seemed a bit generous, but you smiled.

Your lovers were looking at you, and you knew them too well to deny to satisfaction on their faces. They were relaxed, already sliding closer to all fit on the bed, tossing hastily discarded clothes into the hamper, exchanging content smiles and confirming touches.

Santi returned with a handful of damp rags and a small pile of blankets, saying, “We have time.” He really did seem unbothered, having already pulled on a pair of sweatpants. The cloth was warm on your skin and you knew what he meant. Whatever it was, that the five of you had, was just budding, really. 

“Yeah, and it’s not like we’re not going anywhere,” Benny added, leaning against Frankie’s pillow, and the knot came fully undone in your chest.

You settled back in their arms, cherishing the moment as the stickiness was whipped away.

They were right.

Together, you could do this.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

poly frontier taglist:

@grogusmum

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 53 DETAILED SUMMARY + THEORIES

Some time seems to have passed between the end of the last lesson and the beginning of this one. Levi’s tired after pulling an all-nighter with Diavolo to finish a game and Mammon’s laughing at all the pictures Luke is sending him of all the desserts his making and the step by step process he’s following. Beel happily notes that Mammon & Luke have been chatting a lot lately. Mammon red in the face but smiling happily says it’s like he’s got a new minion who’s also fun to mess with, Asmo says it looks more like Mammon’s got a tiny little brother with the way Mammon’s being fawning over him (my heart this is so cute I need to write more fics with them interacting), Mammon denies it but Asmo says it holds no ground when Mammon can’t seem to stop smiling so happily. Lucifer has found an art book that Satan’s being looking everywhere desperately for and invites Satan to come take a look at it together, Satan postures a bit but agrees. Belphie says there’s a lot of strange friendships popping up lately, though Beel’s happy that Satan & Lucifer have been getting along better, Asmo thinks the way Satan’s being acting around Lucifer recently is strange and Belphie says it’s a sign of Armageddon. Asmo asks MC if they knew any reason behind the sudden change and they just say the two discovered new sides of each other which makes the other 3 more confused, with Asmo particularly lusting for the gossip. Belphie wonders if this means the anti-lucifer league would disband and Satan who hears this says that’s dumb cause he can take the chance to pull a prank of Lucifer when he goes to his room to check out the book. MC says they thought him and Lucifer were finally friends but satan says even the thought makes him sick, Asmo asks if he’s sure since the two seem like the best of friends recently. Satan quotes Sun Tzu saying “If you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles”. A door bell rings and Lucifer tells MC to go get it. It’s Solomon & Barbatos and MC asks them what they’re doing here together. Solomon reveal’s it’s time for their sorcerer’s preliminary exams. (Did MC get all 7 stars already? Or 6 I guess if this exam gives the last star)

Ok so MC has 4 stars the preliminary is for the 5th star and final is for the 7th. Asmo has apparently filled the others on what’s gonna happen. Mammon asks for compensation, Beel wishes MC good luck, Lucifer tells them they should actually fill MC in, Asmo says Solomon had contacted him asking the brothers to help with the exam, MC says “cool what do I gotta do”, Solomon says they have to win a game of Tail Thieves and gets Barbatos to explain, Barbatos complains how Solomon always makes him explain things to people and I completely forgot that Solomon has a pact with Barbatos meaning they must be pretty close, meaning Asmo & Barbatos must be pretty close too and I need to see the dynamic between these 3 more. Solomon is going to use magic to give everyone animal tails and MC has to be the last one standing, if they lose their tail they fail the exam. (AND AHHHHHHHHHHHHH I’d love to see the animal event costumes being used in the main storyline and MC getting a tail? It’s have to be a sheep right?) To motivate the brothers to steal MC’s tail, stealing someone’s tail means they’re cursed to obey one command from you and sure that’s not gonna end in disaster. MC’S A SHEEP!!!!!! I’ve had this idea of what their costume would look like for a while ahhhh Also Barbatos is a bat? Do bat’s have tails? I feel like I should know this… (it apparently depends on the species of bat, given his colour lets just say Barbatos is a devildom bat). MC goes hey so this is 1 vs 8???? And Solomon says he’s giving them Asmo & Barbatos. Mammon brings up the fact that MC can just command them and Solomon says that’ll be against the rules. Barbatos asks if MC can use his or Asmo’s powers and Solomon says it’s fine as long as it’s a direct order from MC meaning they can’t use their powers themselves. MC brings up the fact that since they don’t have a pact with Barbatos they can’t use his powers and to make up for it Solomon gives MC Barbatos’ grimoire which will give the bearer full control over the demon who it belongs to even without a pact. MC has a flashback to the tomb under the HoL and the brothers’ grimoire, remembering that a command powered through a grimoire can overpower a command from a pact & that everything about a demon rides on their grimoire meaning they can never let it be stolen. Levi is absolutely stunned that Solomon has something so personal and precious and Barbatos reveals that he entrusted it to Solomon on his own free will and holy shit Barbatos & Solomon must be way closer than I realised… which even Levi says. Lucifer says if they steal MC’s tail and command them to hand over the grimoire they would be able to read it and Barbatos laughs and says that they’d find out everything about him and suddenly the whole game has become about reading Barbatos’ grimoire (even Asmo seems interested), which Solomon seems pleased about since it’s given all the brothers a more solid goal. Solomon starts the game.

The brothers all scatter to hide leaving MC, Asmo and Barbatos in the living room. Barbatos says the brother’s have probably left to find a place they can use to their advantage and that if they are able to figure out what that place would be for each brother they could make strategies to counteract them. Asmo swoons about how Barbatos is the whole package by being handsome and intelligent. Asmo says this makes him more interested in finding out more about Barbatos and he asks MC if he can take a teensy peek at the grimoire and they immediately shut him down. Barbatos thanks them for being a decent person (honestly the lowest bar to clear) and says because Solomon thought it was the best decision to give MC the grimoire he won’t object but also “we don’t really know each other at all so pls don’t use that it literally contains a record of my entire past” MC readily agrees because “the only conversations we’ve ever had is about tea we’re definitely not ready for any deep therapy sessions”. He’s grateful but emphasizes on it again and MC promises they won’t use it. Asmo complains about this, saying it’ll be impossible to beat the others while only using Asmo’s powers. Mammon hears that MC won’t be using the grimoire and reveals himself, Asmo says he was stupid for not finding a place where he’d have the advantage and MC says maybe this is that place for him, Asmo says that maybe cause this is where Lucifer always ties him up he thinks of this as his home turf. Mammon gets ready to fight Asmo & MC, Barbatos says “lol lemme take care of this and prove to you that I’m dangerous even without my powers”.

Barbatos manages to defeat Mammon and hang him from the ceiling using only hand to hand combat. Asmo tells Mammon if he can’t beat someone using only hand-to-hand combat MC might end up firing him, Mammon gets freaked out MC nods along and asks if they’re serious and they tell him not to worry cause they aren’t, he’s happy and calls MC the best, Asmo just sadly calls MC a simp. Asmo says that Barbatos has tied the ropes looser and that Lucifer ties them in a tight artful style. Whether MC pulls the tale off in one swift movement or gently it’ll tickle. He returns to normal and immediately starts yelling at MC to hurry up an give him an order and Asmo realises how scary Solomon’s curse really is. Asmo says even when Mammon is not cursed MC can get him to do pretty much anything by asking the right way cause Mammon’s whipped, so really they won’t be getting anything new or special. Barbatos provides a solution for this by telling them they can get him to admit something he usually wouldn’t. MC asks him; 1.) who his favourite brother is –  he says, “That’s easy! It’s Lucifer, of course. I’ve always loved him and I always will.” I like to think MC knew exactly what he was going to say and took out their phone to record it to later show Lucifer. 2.) If there’s a brother he’s keeping a secret from – He took clothes and shoes from Asmo’s cupboard and sold them. Asmo swears to kill Mammon once all this is over. 3.) If there’s anything he loves more than money – MC. He says there’s nothing and no one more important to him. He says he loves them and that he’d take them over money any day. Asmo who’s honestly MC and Mammon’s #1 shipper (remember the beach event, and the parfait devilgram and the chat where he got excited when MC smelt like Mammon) laughs and says “I knew it!”. For all 3 Mammon realises what he’s said and tries to take it back. They are later unable to find Lucifer – who would be the hardest to beat according to Barbatos - in the music room, Barbatos recalls Simeon telling him how Satan and Lucifer have started getting along and Asmo says he’s suddenly got a bad feeling.

they don’t find anyone in either Satan or Lucifer’s rooms, Asmo suggests MC using the grimoire to locate Lucifer, MC shuts it down and Barbatos thanks them and tells Asmo to drop it. Asmo asks MC why they have to be so serious despite him loving that part of them. Asmo asks MC if they know what Barbatos can do, how powerful he really is, they say he can see through time and Barbatos agrees with it but Asmo asks him to give MC a more detailed description of his powers since he anyway made them promise not to use his grimoire. He then says he has the power to create a portal to anywhere, including through time but creating portals through time has much more limitations than creating a normal portal to just a different place and that his control also becomes less stable. Asmo asks if that’s why Barbatos doesn’t let him go to the past or future no matter how much he begs. Barbatos says, “no that’s cause ik if I did you’d either fuck some powerful historical figure and mess up the entire timeline or you’d try to fuck yourself and the entire universe would implode”. Asmo calls him mean and Barbatos laughs but does say that since his control through time is not the best a person may end up skipping either backwards or forwards through time each time they pass through a doorway after they travel through his portal to the new time. He says that’s all he’s willing to tell MC. Asmo asks MC where they would go if they could go anywhere. If they say past Barbatos asks if there’s something they want to change or if there’s someone who’s past they want to spy on. If they say future Asmo says he’d love to go to the future to see how much more beautiful he’s become and to see how his and MC’s relationship has progressed. MC asks Barbatos where he’d like to go and he says nowhere, cause his place is by Diavolo’s side. MC asks him why he serves Diavolo and what he did before it – he says he’s not gonna answer cause he isn’t sure if it’s a good idea to trust MC the same way he trusts Solomon. Asmo giggles about how cold Barbatos is but says that’s one of the things he loves about him. Barbatos asks Asmo if he might know where Satan is and he says he has an idea.

They go to the home theatre where one of Satan’s favourite movies – about a deadly monster shark – is playing until suddenly everything goes dark. Someone wraps their arms around Asmo and he squeals telling MC they’re so naughty for wanting to do something here in the dark when Barbatos was with them, Satan tells him that he’s restraining Asmo not embracing him. The lights are off cause despite being brothers Asmo could charm them by looking into their eyes. Asmo complains but also loves the “roleplay” they’re doing and how Satan snuck up behind him and restrained him and now he needs a moment to get his boner down, Satan’s understandably very upset by this. Lucifer ends up sneaking behind MC and restraining them (despite it being dark Barbatos is able to see him coming and tries to warm MC), he’s impressed that they were able to recognise him but says they shouldn’t have left their back open. Barbatos asks why they left him free and Lucifer says he knows MC won’t use the grimoire, even if it’s their last option, cause it would upset Barbatos. Lucifer goes to remove MC’s tail but MC signals Barbatos with their eyes and he sees the remote next to him and grabs it & throws it to MC (so I guess this establishes that Barbatos can see in the dark). MC catches it and presses a quick combination of buttons that plays a movie about three cats going on a journey together. Satan obviously starts gushing about the cats and lets Asmo go, Lucifer calls him an idiot and MC commands Asmo. Satan initially doesn’t even notice Asmo cause of the cats which pisses him off but in the end the roleplay made him excited which made his charm more appealing. Lucifer had used every ounce of his willpower and just managed to escape but they take Satan’s tail.

In the twins’ room Asmo laughs about the face Satan made at whatever his order was and Barbatos says Satan making such a face could signify the end times and Asmo says it’s no joke if Barbatos is saying that. Belphie’s fast asleep in his bed and MC leaves him for later cause it wouldn’t be fair to take the tail now. Asmo wonders why Solomon made this MC’s exam when their final exam won’t give a shit if they’re good at tail thieves or not. MC says maybe he thought it’d be funny to see Barbatos disagrees with thar but Asmo says it’s natural to jump to their own conclusions when Solomon never answers questions and that Solomon hasn’t changed in that way since they first made their pact. MC asks for the story behind it Asmo says Solomon knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted from Asmo but could also dodge questions without making it obvious he was doing so. On the first night he’d met Solomon Asmo had been really depressed cause he’d spotted a cute human but the other people who were hanging around her had stated calling him “evil and wicked and other horrible things” and he couldn’t get close to her (so last yr someone told me the actual biblical story behind this and it’s FUCKED UP and I like to imagine that’s what actually happened in OM! too but Asmo is heavily censoring it for MC. Remember the pretty graphic description Asmo gave to MC about how he’d kill them in S1? Yeah I 100% believe he’s lying to MC about how things went down here). He’d been sitting in a tavern sulking when Solomon had started talking to him. He had listened to Asmo and had been so warm and caring Asmo had accidentally let it slip that he was Lucifer’s brother, they’d drunk the night away and when Asmo woke up the next day he had somehow made a pact with Solomon and HOLY SHIT this is so shady Solomon wtf. Barbatos says it probably wasn’t a coincidence he ran into Solomon and Solomon would have known who he was from the beginning (imagine how pissed off Lucifer must have been when Asmo came back with a pact). Asmo says Solomon and Barbatos meeting wasn’t a coincidence either and Barbatos agrees but says it happened long before Solomon and Asmo made a pact. Solomon had summoned Barbatos using a special incantation that he’d created himself and Asmo’s shocked that doing all that and summoning a demon as powerful as Barbatos hadn’t killed him. Barbatos said that Solomon had actually been on the verge of death when Barbatos arrived. MC asked why he’d risk it to summon Barbatos, Barbatos said that even back then there was something Solomon wanted even more than his own life and that the encounter made Barbatos curious and he wanted to learn more about Solomon and eventually this would lead to him forming a pact with Solomon (given how Barbatos is I’d imagine it took time for Solomon to form a pact with him because Barbatos would need to be able to trust him first). He says that though it’s hard to say what Solomon’s plans are he thinks highly of him enough to trust him with his grimoire. He says whether his decision is good or bad is up to them to judge but that their teacher is a genius unlike anyone else in the 3 worlds. Saying their break’s being long enough they head to the kitchen.

They find Beel eating and Asmo scolds him for using the ice cream maker without permission after Lucifer banned him cause last time he ate so much he got sick. Asmo uses this to blackmail Beel into giving up his tail. Removing it tickles a lot and as he’s handing it over Beel blushes and apologises for “the weird little shriek” he made at the end. Barbatos wonders why the fuck the seven of them are considered to be among the mot powerful demons in the Devildom when this is what they’re actually alike and Asmo says Barbatos should be disappointed in Beel and not the both of them. Asmo says that this whole exam seems pointless when this is what it’s like but when Beel starts begging for orders he tells MC to give one. They ask him what they would like for their final meal ever (the other two options are ‘let’s get romantic’ and for him to feed something to Barbatos) He says one of Simeon’s BLTs but then starts listing food from both the human world and Devildom before ending with apple pie….and isn’t apple pie the answer Beel’s VA gave for this same question? That’s really sweet that they added it.  Asmo says by the time he finished all that he’d have passed his death. Beel’s still begging for orders and they realise the curse is to follow the orders of the person who pulled the tail off and not MC. Asmo gets waaay to excited for this and Beel freaks out and uses puppy dog eyes to start pleading with MC for help, MC tells Asmo to cool it but Asmo says he’ll never get a chance like this again and Beel despairs. And that’s it. Beel’s doomed to his fate and we have no idea what happens.

[lilfellasblog]

King Roman and the Fake Harem

Summary: King Roman has enemies directly outside his walls, pressure from inside his walls to get a harem, and no solution in sight. Until he sees the solution has been right under his nose the entire time. This is the story of how an aroace King gets a harem of advisors.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience.

TW: Two brief instances of sexual harassment, one instance of groping, swearing (because Virgil), and people sneering at sex workers/ presumed sex workers.

Word count: 2385

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

King Roman sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ugh, give me a few hours to think of something,” he groaned.

His lead advisor that he’d inherited from his father, who Roman refused to refer to as anything but Orange, protested “But sir, we need a decision soon. It’s already been a week since enemy troops positioned themselves just outside our walls, and we’ve done little besides ask them to leave. That, on top of your lack of harem-”

“I’ll have something for you in two hours, regarding the troops,” Roman said, waving Orange away.

Orange huffed and spun on his heel, leaving the throne room grumbling. Roman brushed a hand over his face. A week into being king and the enemy decides to attack? The nerve!

“You know, if you roll out the catapults to the front gate, that would take care of the troops outside the walls on that side, and then you could concentrate your archers on the rear of the kingdom walls.”

Roman looked over to the side of his throne. Sir Virgil had been his best knight, until he’d been shot by an arrow that had permanently damaged his shoulder. That was 4 weeks ago, he was still in a sling, and ever since he’d been released from the medical wing he’d been making his lack of work everyone else’s problem.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “And just how would you propose moving the catapults from the armory down 100 feet of stairs to the front entrance, hm?”

Sir Virgil shrugged. “Ramps.”

Roman stopped short. Oh, he’s smart. “...very well.” He appraised Virgil. He’ll never be able to be a knight again and he needs something to do, and he’s not too unfortunate-looking… “How would you like a job?”

/////

Virgil adjusted the silks that hid exactly nothing of his upper body so they’d sit comfortably over his still-bandaged arm and shoulder. He was about to join his first ever advisor meeting, and he was beyond nervous. He’d been rather enjoying his life as the first member of Roman’s harem (that so far hadn’t even resulted in a single flirtatious remark, which Virgil wasn’t complaining about but he was certainly confused by), and he didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up.

“Ready?”

Virgil jumped and hissed through his teeth as his shoulder was jostled by the sudden movement.

Roman was frowning. Before Virgil could apologize, Roman asked, “Are you alright? I can have a healer come over. If you’d prefer to sit out this meeting and rest, that would be a more than acceptable course of action.”

Virgil was stunned. “Huh?”

Roman nodded at him. “Your shoulder, it seems to be causing you pain.”

“Oh! It’s not too bad, I’ll be fine. Still getting used to not moving it too much.”

Roman laughed. “Yes, that I have been witness to. Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Do I need to walk, like, meekly or whatever?” Virgil asked, cheeks already heating up at the future humiliation.

A look of disgust came over Roman. “No, I wouldn’t expect that of anyone under my employ.”

Virgil let out a breath. “Alright, cool cool.”

The meeting started out as expected, a few snickers from his former co-workers who were still knights, but nothing Virgil couldn’t ignore. Virgil recognized Orange by his blaze orange ensemble that hurt his eyes (no wonder Roman refused to give Virgil his actual name). When it came time to discuss military tactics, Roman spoke first.

“I would like to introduce my military advisor, Sir Virgil. Sir Virgil, if you would, please announce your strategy for driving off the enemies.”

Before Virgil could get a word out, Virgil’s former boss blurted out, “You’re trusting your military strategy with a common whore?!”

Virgil levelled him with his best death glare. “Call me that again and I’ll cut off your balls and shove them down your throat.”

Only Virgil was close enough to hear the King swallow his laughter at the general’s paling face. Roman cleared his throat and spoke.

“To answer your question, yes. Sir Virgil, if you wouldn’t mind continuing?”

Virgil smirked. “Gladly.” For the next 20 minutes, Virgil confidently discussed his strategy with the catapults and archers, fielded questions, and specified the ideal placements. As the meeting drew to a close and Roman went to do the obligatory schmoozing with top leaders (Virgil noticed with glee how the military personel scrambled to get out, supposedly to “update the troops”), the Lead Advisor of Common Education approached Virgil. Virgil did the customary respectful bow, which the advisor returned.

“I trust King Roman is treating you well?” he inquired, blue eyes sparkling from beneath a sandy fringe.

“Yes, very much so. This fucked up rotator cuff is the best thing to happen to me,” Virgil internally winced at his choice of words. Gonna have to work on that.

The advisor just laughed. “I suppose it must be! Surely, being part of a harem is much more comfortable than being a knight.”

Virgil shrugged, and winced as he once again forgot about his injured shoulder. “Yeah, it is. I’m just glad I can help in some capacity by being a strategic advisor.”

“Yes, yes, that must be quite fun for you,” the advisor purred. Virgil bristled at his condescending tone. “Do let me know if you require more… attention than what King Roman provides.”

Virgil wrinkled his face. He focused on Roman, and heard his attention was on Orange who was insisting that one person could hardly be considered a harem. “I think I’m good.”

“Oh, of course, of course, but do keep me in mind.” And before Virgil realized what was happening, the advisor had patted his ass.

Virgil used his good arm to grab the man’s offending hand, twist him around, bring him to his knees, and place a foot on the middle of his back.

“Ow! You stupid whore, get off-”

“What is the meaning of this?!” King Roman thundered.

Virgil released the advisor. “This guy was perving all over me, and I get I’m part of a harem but I don’t stand for that shit.”

“It was just a love tap!”

King Roman’s face was red with anger. “Sir Virgil, he encroached on your person?”

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

“You are relieved of your duties.”

Virgil sagged while the advisor smiled smugly. Welp, the grapes and silk were fun while they lasted. “Yeah, okay.”

Roman jerked back a bit in confusion. “What? No, you,” he glared at the now-ex-advisor.

The advisor was aghast. “Excuse me? How dare you!”

“How dare you, touching a man without his consent and then having the gall to speak to me in such a tone!”

Virgil was in too much shock to process the rest of the conversation. He came back to his senses just outside the medical wing. Roman was instructing the doctor to recheck Virgil’s bandages as they didn’t seem to quite hold his shoulder still, and sighed in relief when he caught Virgil watching them.

“Virgil, there you are! Are you alright? Say the word, and I’ll arrange for you to speak with our mind doctor.”

Virgil blinked a few times.

Roman turned back to the doctor. “Could he have gone into shock? Does he need-”

Virgil shook his head to unfreeze his brain. “No, I’m fine. I’ve had people trying to kill me, part of the job, I’m okay.”

King Roman furrowed his brow. “Are you sure? Truly, if you need to talk to someone-”

Virgil held his good hand up. “I’m fine, promise. I’ll talk to someone later if I need to.”

Roman sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Oh! The military is deploying your strategy as we speak! I thought I’d let you know before the good doctor looked you over.”

“Dope! Wait, what?”

King Roman was walking away. “I’ll see you once you’re tended to!” he called over his shoulder.

“What are you talking about, my shoulder… actually kinda hurts, okay fine.”

/////

One successful defeat of an opposing military later, and Roman had removed yet another advisor from his circle for creepy behavior.

“Hey Princey, I appreciate you defending my honor and shit, but that was the Lead Advisor of Trade,” Virgil began.

“And I’m better off without him!” Roman declared.

Virgil scratched his chin. “I mean yeah, but also you have a trade meeting with neighboring kingdoms coming up in a week, and two days after that you have an internal trade meeting with surrounding villages and the farmers within the city walls.”

Roman started stretching his arms and back in a way Virgil had identified meant he was stressed. “And there has been even more talk of my small harem, which does not bode well for external negotiations,” Roman murmured to himself.

Virgil shifted. “Yeah, that. Why don’t you just have your new advisors be part of your harem like me?”

Roman paused. “That’s… brilliant! Thank you Virgil!”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, no problem. It’s a pretty sweet gig. Although I don’t know why you haven’t-” he cut himself off with an awkward cough.

King Roman looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I’m not… particularly interested in those activities. I apologize if I’ve disappointed you.”

Virgil let out a breath. “I mean, I’m kinda relieved, not that you’re not hot! But I’d rather not break my two rules.”

Roman preened at the compliment. “What are your two rules?”

“Don’t shit where you eat and don’t fuck where you work.”

“Ah.”

“Look, there might be enough time to get someone else up to speed before the trade meetings. But you’ll have to choose someone quickly.”

Roman sat down in his throne and looked skyward in thought. “Are you familiar with Patton Hart? He’s already organized the internal farmers into their current union. What of him?”

Virgil remembered running into him right after a difficult mission and somehow ending up with a bag of tomatoes, a bag of bell peppers, and strict instructions to bathe and sleep. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

“How do you think he’d do as an advisor?”

Virgil didn’t have to think for long. “I think he’d be awesome. Want me to talk to him?”

“If you’d be so kind. And please assure him that his role would be strictly as an advisor.”

Virgil smirked. “You mean a shirtless advisor.”

Roman turned beet red, and Virgil cackled.

/////

Before Virgil knew it, the harem quarters weren’t so lonely. Patton had agreed to join, very happy with the wardrobe and quickly making a name for himself. Patton had, in turn, recommended Logan Logos to replace the other creepy advisor. Logan had run a very successful pre-K Montessori program before joining the palace harem, and he fit in with the rest of the advising circle well, already creating reforms to account for diverse learning styles. In fact, Virgil had noticed that the advisors who weren’t part of the harem started taking him and Patton more seriously once the proper and strong Logan had joined them.

The day of the inter-kingdom trade meeting had come, and Logan and Virgil would both be attending along with Patton. Everyone was nervous about how the sweet and gentle Patton would do at such a fierce and antagonist event.

Virgil’s shoulder was out of the cast and sling, although it was still tender. He clapped a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “Go get ‘em,” he said, trying to be encouraging.

Patton flushed. “Thanks Vee.”

The meeting began, along with the customary hour-long political niceties, and finally it came time for the trade advisors to speak on their leaders’ behalf.

Virgil ground his teeth at the open snickering of Patton’s garb, and he could tell Logan and Roman were feeling the same way. Patton, however, seemed to be unaffected by it all. As expected, the Kingdom of Fiery Fields spoke first.

“King Roman, we propose a 5% increase of taxes for the crops we export to your kingdom, lest we cease all wheat exports to you.”

“You may call me Advisor Hart, and for what reason? We already pay you 12% more for your crops than other kingdoms.”

The platinum blonde man stared at Patton with haughty hazel eyes. “Because, Advisor Hart,” he sneered. “our crops are unmatched in quality!”

Patton nodded his head. “Fair point. I suppose you won’t mind a moratorium on all exports of our steel to your kingdom then?”

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room.

Platinum Blonde was outraged. “You wouldn’t!”

“Actually, we would. You are now meeting with the new King’s new advisory circle, and we won’t stand for pointless tax increases that a review of the books show only go to pay the noblewomen you’re cheating on your wife with,” Patton stated, smiling sweetly the entire time.

Half of the trade advisors around the table laughed, while the other half gawked. Platinum Blonde backed down, and the trade meeting lasted for only 2 days instead of the typical 3 since Patton effectively shut down any ego-based bullshitting that occurred.

/////

Virgil and Patton were taking turns trying to toss grapes into each others’ mouths, laughing, while Logan pretended to be irritated by their antics. The doors opened suddenly to show Orange, in his eye-burning all-orange ensemble.

“Hiya!” Patton chirped, hiding his own discomfort. They were all intensely disliked by Orange, who seemed to blame them for Roman not being interested in sex or romance.

Orange sniffed. “Advisor Logos, the noble King would like to extend his congratulations on the tax reform that redirected many of the fees of our noblepeople to educational supplies.”

Logan nodded at him. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of that myself and am very glad it came to fruition. Was their anything else you required, Advisor Wrath?”

“What?!” Virgil and Patton shouted at the same time. They whipped their heads over to Orange.

“No. Good day.” With that, Orange - or rather, Advisor Wrath - left their room.

Virgil and Patton turned back to Logan, who was seemingly reading again.

“Dude what the fuck-”

“How the heck did you know?!”

Logan just raised an eyebrow while continuing to read. “I have a way of finding things out,” he said, looking up for a second to smirk at them before going back to his book.

Virgil and Patton decided to not test Logan’s abilities.

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Ok, so I’ve tried and tried several times to get this posted, we’ll see if this is the time it goes through. Half the reason why this review series has slowed down is not just the multitude of real life stuff I have to deal with, but also Tumblr just refusing to work with me and deleting my posts. I also can’t save my work else where due to Tumblr messing up the formatting. It’s been a frustrating mess and so far no one @staff​ has come up with a tech solution or work around. 

Summary: Rapunzel helps to rebuild Old Corona, (after its near destruction from the Black Rocks) which will become the permanent home of Red and Angry, who have returned to Corona to settle down. However, she begins to notice strange footprints around the area, as well as the livestock becoming more unruly and fearful. The group comes across a monster hunter named Creighton, who explains to the group that the area is being stalked by a werewolf, who possessed one of Corona's citizens. Aiming to save this person rather than kill them, Rapunzel sets out to find who it is. 

When Was This Decided?

No seriously, when was this decided? It’s a pretty big leap go from ‘the rocks makes various towns inhabitable’ to ‘let’s rebuild!’ What’s changed here? Cause the rocks haven’t been removed and Rapunzel failed in her mission to nullify their power. In fact the rocks were not only reawaken in the second season finale but shown to be under the power of someone who’s intentions were made unclear to the heroes.

So I ask again; who thought this was safe thing to do now? What provisions have been made to accommodate the rocks? They blocked the well, remember, and destroyed the fields; how are the people getting food and water? 

And most importantly why wasn’t the audience informed beforehand? When you change up the status quo in a story you need to provide just cause to the viewers. I legit thought I had accidently skipped an episode when I first watched because this plot point was not set up properly.  

Why Were They Ever Left Alone to Begin With?

In a story where neglect is a central theme and motivating factor for all the main characters, it is super tone deaf to have those same characters perpetuating neglect themselves. The decision to live on their own should not be left up to Angry and Red because they are children. Children are not mature enough to provide for themselves neither emotionally nor physically and when placed in situations where they have to do so it psychologically damages them. Which the series already showcased with Varian so why is this suddenly deemed ok? 

This Completely Undermines the Past Two Seasons

The entire conflict of the past two seasons was the rocks forcing people out of their homes. Eugene was made an orphan from them, Varian lost his entire support group because them, they drove out the Saporians from their encampment which prompted them to invade Corona, and Rapunzel and company spent an entire year on the road trying to find a way to stop them from spreading supposedly. 

All of that has now been flushed down the drain with this decision. And its super insulting to watch because it’s the writers telling us that we’ve wasted our time caring about this plot for two years. You don’t resolve major conflicts off screen and without explanation; it’s lazy!  

Also Where Is Varian and Quirin During All This?

This is not only their home and legal charge, but it’s also the ending to their ongoing story, and they’re not even here in a silent cameo. 

Wouldn’t Quirin be overseeing the rebuilding of his town? Wouldn’t Varian be using his skills to find workable engineering solutions for them, fulling his season one goal of saving his home and making his village better with his inventions? Also wouldn’t Edmund want to catch up with his brother and help out now that he’s here? 

In fact not a single person who actually lives in Old Corona is to be found in these opening shots. 

Oh, But We Do Get Earl

Earl might be from Old Corona, or he might not be. We’ve literally never seen him before. The artists had to create a brand new character model for this character, the writers had to write new lines for him, and the casting director had to hire an actor and have him record these lines for only less than a minute of screen time, never to be seen again. Even though they legit had shepherd models already to go from season one that they could have used. It’s a waste of resources and a prime example of the mismanagement going on in this show. 

It’s Too Late In the Series to Waste Time On a New One Off Villain

Speaking of a waste, Creighton might have more story reasons to appear in this episode than Earl does but her inclusion is still a poor decision. The show already has an overabundance of villains, so many in fact that they shipped the bulk of them off in season two, and this is the final season; the season where we should be wrapping up plots and minor characters stories not kicking off new ones.

Taken on her own Creighton isn’t a bad character presa, she works for the episode, but when we could have gotten a resolution to Caine’s, Hector’s, or the Disciples’ story arcs instead it highlights how misused the series assets are. 

All This Lore Will Be Forgotten In Just a Few Episodes Time

We finally get like some magical rules and backstory only for future episodes to ignore it from here on afterwards. Red can turn into a werewolf whenever she pleases, night or day, with little explanation as for why.  

Just Arrest Her Rapunzel

You’re the acting queen. You have the power and the right to arrest or even merely detain someone who is threating your citizens and refuses to leave. In fact it’s kind of your job. You don't even have to throw her in a dungeon if you thought that too cruel. Just lock her up in a nice room somewhere in the castle until you’ve sorted out the mess yourself. 

The series wants to treat Rapunzel as the underdog when she isn’t, and her failure to wield her power effectively doesn’t make her look ‘nice’ it just makes her look stupid and grossly incompetent. This is a conflict that didn’t need to have happened and Rapunzel let it happen.  

Oh, So Now Y'all Riot

You didn’t complain when the king orphaned children with his crack down on crime. You rolled over as he dolled out overly harsh punishments to poor people who committed minor offences. You gleefully went along with the royals as they  scapegoated a child for their mistakes, even as they endangered your homes.  And ya’ll sat on your asses while invaders pulled off a coup and enslaved you. 

But this is what you get mad over? A rumor about a mythical creature existing that your princess has zero control over. Seriously? 

Man, I hate the townspeople in this show. 

Pointless Dream Sequence Is Pointless

This scene tells the audience nothing new and just wastes screen time. 

This Is the Wrong Lesson to Focus On Rapunzel

We do not tell the 12 year old to unload their phycological issues onto their baby sister!

You’re telling me parents were involved in writing this show? What the hell!?

Rapunzel you are the adult here. At 20 now you should be more adept to handle listening to the deep seated emotional traumas of a little girl than a fucking 10 year old! And if you’re not, or don’t want to, then it’s your job to find another adult who will. 

That’s the core problem with this entire episode. It treats Red’s and Angry’s problems as some eternal issue that they need to work out and not as the inherent failure of the adults around them that it is. 

It is neither Red’s nor Angry’s decision on weather or not they get live on their own. Nor is it their responsibility to be each other’s therapist. Yes, a change in living arrangements is always stressful and for children with abandonment issues it can be hard to readjust, but that’s when you need to step it up and deal with the problem; not shove it off onto the kids themselves! 

Monty Is Useless

Is this all Monty is good for? Being a red herring in ridiculously simple mysteries? Is this why we wasted a whole episode introducing him back in season one? Really?

Why Are We Still Treating Old Corona As Being Separate from Corona Itself?

Look, I get that it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that highlights how poorly thought out the worldbuilding is in the series. Is the Coronan government in charge of Old Corona or not? If so then you can just make those lease laws yourself as the acting regent Eugene. If not then Frederic shouldn’t have had any say in the matter of relocating Old Corona’s citizens nor putting a child outside of his jurisdiction under arrest.

But more importantly this is a just a repeat of that vague level of responsibility Rapunzel has for people who live off the island. She can’t order a whole village to be rebuilt while simultaneously claiming that she bares no accountability for Varian and Quirin’s problems in season one. 

Replacing Guns with Crossbows Isn’t the Safe Option That the Censors Think It Is

I find it kind of amusing that censors will ban showing a 17th century blunderbuss but allow it to be replaced by a weapon that is still mass produced today and can be bought in any Walmart across the country. Like I’m a major advocate for gun regulation in real life, but even I have to find this to be a bit silly. Crossbows aren’t some fantasy weapon. People still own and use them. But it would be seriously hard to get ahold of a working antique firearm.  

Seriously This Is How the Girls Have Been Living and the Adults Haven’t Done Anything About It Until Now?

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse by now, but it’s so engrained into the episode I have to keep bringing it up. The show itself is visually telling us that Red and Angry can’t keep living this way, but it never wants to call Rapunzel and the other adults out for not rescuing them from this life sooner. 

So All This Tells Me Is That Rapunzel Could Have Easily Checked Up On Varian In Painter’s Block, But Didn’t.

Remember they’re right next to Old Corona; meaning that Janus Point is also right next to Old Corona. Meaning that Rapunzel could easily have checked up on Varian right after Painter’s Block and choose not to. With each passing episode Rapunzel has less and less excuse for her behavior in season one. 

Yeah Remember that Plot Point That Wound Up Being Entirely Irrelevant to the Story?

In jokes don’t cover your ass when you make poor writing choices. Quite the opposite in fact as all you’ve done is remind the audience of all the various dangling plot threads that you will fail to follow up on. The disciples plot goes no where and serves no purpose, and it should not have been introduced as this big important thing if you weren’t going to do anything with it. 

Nice Idea, Poor Execution

I’ve heard fans of this episode tell me that they enjoy it because of this scene with Red. If you’re a naturally introverted person or neurodivergent and have trouble communicating at times then Red’s speech here can strike a cord. Which is cool; I’ll never deny someone’s feelings and if a piece of media speaks to you on a personal level for whatever reason that is great. What I’m here to discuss though is story structure and whether or not the story’s themes are presented well in context of what it’s set up. 

The conflict here does not work from a pure structural standpoint because it’s a surface level deflection of the real issues. Red’s problem isn’t that she is being ignored, it's that she’s been abandoned. Now communication issues can arise from that abandonment and feeling heard can be step forward in working those issues out, but Red’s central trauma isn’t going to be magically fixed by people ‘listening’ to her, i.e. being granted whatever she wants, but by providing her with a real home and with a real guardian to look after her. 

Because what Red wants on a surface level is harmful to her, and the reasons why she wants what she wants needs to be addressed more so than then sedating her angry outbursts in the moment. This is treating the symptoms not the cause.

So What Is or Isn’t Real About the Curse?

Once again, we finally get some actual lore and rules for magic and the writers are already throwing it away during the same episode they are introduced. I now have as little context for how the wolf curse works within the Tangled world as I did before the episode started. 

This Is Sweet, But Once Again Context Brings It Down.

So just to reiterate, this a surface level resolution to the conflict of the episode that doesn’t actually address anything. It might feel like an appropriate ending but only if you ignore the fact that Red and Angry are orphans who’ve been abandoned but the adults. 

Angry apologizing here to Red does not solve any of their problems, especially since Angry, as a child herself, is not responsible for her sister’s behavior, feelings, nor well being. That falls to the adults and they fail to address Red’s core issues and their own failings to her in their apologies as well. Not to mention that the very next scene undermines any optional progress that could have been made here. 

Listening to Someone Does Not Mean Giving Them Whatever They Want

This does not fix anything. Red and Angry are still left to live on their own without any real supervision. Giving them a big play house is not providing for them, it’s spoiling them. Would you let all the other orphans in the local orphanage roam free without an adult to take care of them? No!? Gee I wonder why? Could it be because letting a 12 and 10 year old raise themselves is a very stupid idea? One that will potentially damage them later in life assuming that they don't get themselves killed in the meantime. 

Moreover this is yet another example of the series overall problem with not understanding that compromise and resolving conflicts does not mean rewarding the characters at the end with everything that they want without having them work for it. That’s not how life works and it’s not how good story telling works. 

This Is Beyond Irresponsible

No! Bad Show! Bad! 

You do not get to pretend that negligence is the same thing as compromise. Yes I know Eugene said to come to him when they have a problem, but as demonstrated by this very episode children do not always know when to ask for help nor can they always find it when needed, that is why parents exist!  

Nor does the show get a free pass for turning it’s main characters into child abusers who neglected three minors multiple times now. Even when they themselves are victims of that same abuse!

How utterly blinkered do you have to be to not see the problem here? 

It’s the Return of the Pointless Parallels

Let me count the ways for how stupid this is. 

Red and Angry’s conflict has no impact on the on going narrative. Even with them now being reoccurring characters they still manage to contribute nothing to the future storylines involving Cass. 

Neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra learn anything from Red and Angry’s spat; Rapunzel because she refuses to acknowledge her own flaws and Cassandra’s not even here for any of it. 

The sister’s dynamic between Raps and Cass is not well established and the writers mange to piss all over it by series end because of gay baiting and poor writing. Therefore relying on lazy parallels to other siblings in the show to bolster this connection falls flat.  

Red and Angry’s argument has nothing in common with Rapunzel and Cass’s current fighting. One is about abandonment issues and the other is about shallow validation. Trying to tie these two themes together actually winds up undermining both conflicts. 

Red and Angry are children. Rapunzel and Cassandra are not. That very much matters. 

Red and Angry didn’t drag innocent people into their petty bitch fight and endanger them because they wanted to feel special. 

This Makes Zero Sense

I don’t know; she looked pretty happy during Crossing the Line. 

She was also able to control the rocks just fine then, so what happened? 

Not to mention soon after this Zhan Tiri is telling her she needs some sort of incantation to control the rocks, despite being able to already control the rocks.... 

It’s almost as if the writers are full of shit and don’t actually know what they’re doing. 

So Are We Remembering the Burnt Hand or Not?

Does the hand matter or not? Is it ever a motivating factor in what Cassandra decides to do? Is her waning control over the rocks connected to her burnt hand; even though having a burnt hand is what allowed her grab the moonstone in the first place? Did the moonstone heal the hand? Does Raps singing the healing incantation later on heal it? Does Cass have a forever burnt hand? 

Who the fuck knows! 

Not the writers that’s for sure, cause it never comes up again. 

Don’t introduce plot points and then not resolve them. That’s writing 101 guys. 

Wait if she needs the incantation to control the rocks and the angry thing is a lie, then how the heck is she controlling them just now? Make up your dang mind show! 

I swear I lose brain cells whenever I have to rewatch the evil Cassandra plot. It is so dumb  you guys.... so, so dumb. 

Conclusion

It’s not the worst thing ever but series has far better episodes on offer than this one. Even in a season as suck ass as season three. 

So there’s praying that this review posts this time and if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me in my projects feel free to leave a tip on my Ko-Fi. Thank you. 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[s-n-a-k-e-p-i-t]

Hermione Granger’s Guide to Shooting Your Shot || hermione x draco

A/N: This is for @weasleysflowr‘s writing challenge. I’ve never done one of these before, and to be honest I haven’t creatively written for myself in a really long time, but I’m slowly getting back into it and it’s making me feel so alive!! So I hope you guys enjoy

Notes: I’m not quite sure of the time of when this is taking place. I’m inclined to think 6th year or 7th because they are drinking and with that being said, I wrote this with the idea in mind that Voldy didn’t come back and Hogwarts is just vibing without the threat of him and there’s just the usual Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry.

Warnings: Alcohol, fluff maybe the tiniest bit of steam

Prompt: “I might have had a few shots” 

Hermione bit her lip and smiled and that was just the right amount to send him barreling over the edge. His control was surrendered, she essentially held his soul in the palm of her hand. However, she hadn’t the slightest idea of the power she held as she stood across the room doing shot after shot with her newly arrived friends. Dancing to the music slightly when the younger ginger walked over to give her a hug. Oh she had no idea, that in that moment he had accepted that he was hers entirely. 

A scoff of a shoe next to him brought him out of his daze. The party was picking up and the fire whiskey was flowing, which luckily meant less people were asking why he was there. Not to mention the crowd was building, so it was much easier to blend despite the green tones only he and his companion adorned. However, this meant the temperature of The Three Broomsticks, with its smaller, more compact quarters and multiplied occupants didn’t stand a chance. He was happy he hadn’t worn a jacket, despite the December night he had to walk through to get there.  

Her teeth released her bottom lip as her mouth pulled into a wide smile and it sucked him in all over again. A mop of blonde hair handed her a messy red and gold wrapped present and he couldn’t help smile at how she held the package. Like it was the most beautiful thing in the world, despite being the most hideous wrapping job he had ever seen. Lost in the beauty of her, he almost missed the jabbing elbow in his side. 

“Earth to Draco.”

Blaise. Blaise had also been invited to the Golden Trio’s annual Christmas party. Why he even bothered to show, was beyond Draco’s imagination. In fact, he noted people, the Gryffindor majority in particular, actually seemed to be more surprised that his friend was present than himself. 

“What,” he scowled, his eyes not daring the tear away from her. 

“I’m gonna grab another drink, do you want anything. I’ve asked you at least five times.”

Draco looked down at the drink in his hand, he swirled it around and raised an eyebrow to his friend. Blaise turned on his heel and walked to the bar. Draco brought the glass to his lips, welcoming the bitter liquid in. Over the brim of the cup, he watched her as her eyes slowly wandered until they met his. Her skin, already flushed from the alcohol she had consumed, blushed even more and he reveled in the idea that he had such an effect on her. She whispered a word or two to the other thirds of her trio, hugged the blonde girl, and then broke away. She slowly sauntered towards him. Her step was off, he assumed due to the liquor. 

“Malfoy,” she smiled her eyes darting around to see who else had noticed his presence, “I didn’t think you’d make it,” she nearly whispered. He picked up on the slight slur of her words. 

“And why’s that?” 

She shrugged and pouted. He licked his lips as he watched hers. “Project’s over, we don’t have an excuse to be seen together anymore.”

He clicked his tongue and nodded. His eyebrows jerked up in amusement. “You invited me, Granger, so I came.”

She giggled and covered her lips with her fingers. He stared at her, remembering only the start of the term when she had been thrown into a group with him and Blaise for an Astronomy project, much to all of their annoyance. 

And then one week into working together when they had gotten into a screaming match over what month to complete the chart. He had quidditch tryouts and practices littered throughout the autumn, she had an immense amount of studying that only would build up the closer to Christmas they got. And they had gone back and forth, eventually getting personal, eventually getting in each others faces. And as he stared down at her and she stared up at him and their breath hit one another’s faces and both sets of eyes held their ground, neither to be betrayed or look away first, he had kissed her and as if something had finally snapped after six years of being sworn enemies and hell had frozen over, she kissed him back. And of course all of this has happened right when Blaise had returned from the bathroom, causing them to break apart, who told them he wouldn’t tell anyone as long as they did all the work so he could go off and do whatever it is Blaise Zabini does when he’s alone.

And then of course, they fought over who kissed who first, deciding to leave it at nothing more than a stressful time, a misunderstanding, and downright stupidity.

And then a month later, it happened again, only this time she initiated it. He had gotten an owl from his father, saying that his mother had been hit with an unidentified hex. And though Draco had practiced time and time again to not show his emotions, she still managed to break through and dig up what was wrong. And after that, the feeling of another person genuinely caring for him, who didn’t try to tell him how to feel or think or behave, he felt his mask slip away. And when she caught glimpse of the boy underneath the facade, she had kissed him, short, soft, and sweet.

And then mid October came around. And they’d finally picked a day to chart. And once they’d finished, those same fingers covering her giggle, had ended up tangled in his hair. He thought of the way her skin had glowed in the moonlight, the way she had looked at him, the way he had kissed her, the way she fearlessly kissed him back. And how they had done all their work that day, but told no one they were done just so they could keep seeing each other. They’d read, they’d talk, they’d spend the rest of the duration of the project period memorizing each other’s bodies and picking apart the other’s mind.

And then to three days ago when they handed in the project. 

And then he remembered the way they had parted, high marks on the project and agreeing that what had happened was to be kept a secret. Her friends would give her hell and he was pretty positive his father would disown him. The solution was to keep it a secret. To glance, to pass a note or two, to meet in dark corners and under isolated trees. 

And as he had laid in bed last night, he wondered if she was laying awake too, coming to find that this solution was not much of a solution at all. 

He blinked, suddenly, and pulled himself back into the present, swaying slightly. His eyes bore into hers, unsure of what to say next, hoping his quick trip down memory lane hadn’t brought any unwanted attention their way. And she studied him as if she could see into the depths of his mind and knew exactly what he was thinking about. He felt... vulnerable and though he also felt the comfort of her she provided whenever nearby, he also felt.. nervous? He struggled to find his bearings and he struggled with not being in control. He hadn’t even realized she had slipped her hand into his, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles slowly bringing him back. He looked down, smiling at the sight of their hands together.

When he looked back up, she was biting her lip again. 

He felt himself slip, the mask he wore around his schoolmates faltered. She caught it, he knew she would. But then she did something he didn’t predict. She cupped his face, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him gently. Smack dab on the mouth. In the middle of the bar. At the Gryffindor Christmas party.

She pulled away, hesitantly, nervous that he hadn’t been thinking what she had been thinking for the past 24 hours. 

His eyes searched her face. He wasn’t complaining, he was just shocked. “Hermione, all of our stupid friends are her- I thought, but what about the plan to keep it secret?”

Her smile brightened at his use of her first name. “I might have had a few shots,” she giggled, standing up taller so her lips were hovering just below his. “And I also might have realized that solution was kind of dumb, I want to be able to celebrate Christmas with my boyfriend.”

A mistletoe appeared above them, causing them both to laugh. She smiled at him and he felt his smile reach his eyes. Softly, he reached out and tilted her chin up. 

And despite the fact that practically everyone was looking at them in utter shock, despite the chorus of gasps, and despite the countless “is that Malfoy and Hermione?”s

Despite all that, when she kissed him this time, he kissed her back.