#dealing with the sort of things that arose in those relationships

[gay-simple-and-chaotic]

huge vent ramble under the cut (my love if you're seeing this I'm just trying to process and get it out there, no need to check up on me)

beginning to think I might actually not just be traumatized and depressed but also have a personality disorder because damn. quiet bpd and avpd both really strike some uncomfortable chords

but at the same time i have too much control for it to be bpd, but I have too much self esteem for it to be avpd,

but at the same time, it's worse than just anxiety because there's so many more layers to it like,

if it was just social anxiety, I probably wouldn't be so debilitatingly terrified of putting myself in a situation where someone might criticize me. (Yet at the same time I've been able to overcome it sometimes! It's uncomfortable, it's draining, and I avoid doing it, but I have done it)

if it was just anxiety, I would have a stable sense of who I am (but I'm young and autistic, right? There's time)

if it was just anxiety, surely I wouldn't spiral into panic when I attempt to set a boundary, and if setting it seems to annoy someone, surely if it was just anxiety, my first reaction wouldn't be to recoil and downplay, to minimize my upset and my struggling? (but that's fawn response, it could be an anxious attachment style, I know I have that)

if it was just any of it, surely I wouldn't be so utterly unable to believe someone when they said they liked spending time with me, when they told me to my face that they don't see me as a secondary/backup friend, right? That wouldn't be this persistent, all-encompassing fear, that even though I like myself (too much too much, have a big head, make yourself smaller or you'll be intolerable and they'll hate you they'll leave you) and generally don't take shit (but you're too outspoken, over dumb things, you're sensitive and you've taken to "voicing your needs" and you're going to push everyone away asking them to do inconsequential things that annoy them, like asking them to not be mean to your favorite character), and show my affection openly to my friends (TOO MUCH TOO MUCH you're going to suffocate them and they're going to leave even after all your attempts to keep them close because you're too much you're TOO MUCH) and love them a lot, surely it isn't normal to be paranoid about your friends having favorites, surely it isn't normal to feel like no matter how much you try to bridge an unspoken gap (that probably doesn't even exist, it's in your head, they were annoyed once and now you're assuming they're holding onto it as much as you are) they're always pulling away faster and faster because all they were waiting for was an excuse to ditch you,

panicking and spiraling and self deprecating, wanting to drive them away but being so afraid, you're not angry you're never angry (except when it's unreasonable and you're frustrated and you want to cry because it's all so unfair) you're just afraid, you want them to go but you NEED them to stay, the thought of them leaving feels like you're dying, your throat is tight and you're struggling to think or act right when it occurs,

god, surely that's not something someone's supposed to experience, right?

[flamingpudding]

The first part of this Au that I went out with so funny thank you for answering it I hope you were able to rest and stuff but anywho

I feel like after those first two parts I feel like RedRobin and Batman have questions about the Ghost King and Vlad relationship like they're asking questions

And the Klarions / Phantom children and the kids keep just dropping he with to college with our mom's parents, he would take kidnap mom and locked him in a basement, he's legally mom's godfather, he tried to marry grandmother on multiple occasions

I just feel like Dan anytime he gets the moment gets mad at him and goes like until you pay the 8.5 million you owe mom in child support is the day that you can call me your son ectoplasm donor.

Also I would find it so funny if outside of their Klarion thing they live with Vlad time from time again when Danny is overwhelmed or need someone to watch over them and the the rest of the people he's friends with in the Infinite Realms can't do it and are friends with the Wayne children

I feel like Duke will be having a heart attack when you realizes that he goes the same high school class as Dan or that Ellie and Dick best friends back when they were children for funsies

Also the reveal of Teekls has never been a cat it's going to get on doctor fate's nerves cuz he knows damn well that things never been a cat also I feel like all of them have the power to rip Dr Fate out of whoever he's possessing body and always he's pulling that power on him anytime they get the chance

Also a review of the fact that Teekl has never been a cat until when like Batman or Red Robin pov

Have I ever mentioned I love your ideas and how fun they are? Cause damn this had me laughing while reading it already.

Also glad the first two parts were still fun despite the mishaps that happed while writing :D

Also I skipped over the Teekl Part for the moment since I didn't know how to tie it in at the moment...

Sooooo anyway.... here we go again~ (sorry if its a bit short...)

Part 1 Part 2

------------------------

Red Robin was intrigued, worried and on several levels suspicious as he watched the interaction between the ones that had been Klarion, the current Klarion and Vlad Masters. He had also a lot of questions, he really wanted answers to but for now he held back.... partially. Vlad Masters was a contact Batman had brought in when the situation with the Demon became more dangerous than they originally expected.

John Constantine had mentioned they would need a even stronger force to really drive that Demon back and off handedly mentioned that something like an Ancient or a Ghost King would be needed. And wouldn't you know, Batman knew someone that claimed to have contacts with a Ghost King or rather THE Ghost King. And as luck would have it, Vlad Masters was in Gotham because of one of his relentless attempts at striking a business deal with Bruce Wayne. (That really had been an unexpected luck but by now Red Robin was also suspecting something else was at play.... [Like a bored Ancient of Time])

Well either way now he was watching, just a step behind his mentor, how Batman was grilling Vlad Masters on his relations to the Ghost King, since apparently they (the hero's assembled) wouldn't need to do anything anyway since the Ghost King was handling the demon threat. Red Robin did realise that not all heroes present were convinced but what else could they do but wait right now? Since according to Klarion their Mom aka the Ghost King was already dealing with the situation.

So with that happening, the well known bat-paranoia, curiosity, suspicion and need to know every good damn detail of a situation arose full force. Not that Red Robin minded, as mentioned before, he had a lot of questions too. Plus he wasn't so sure if the other Heroes had caught it but there were some disturbing things Klarion and is siblings sort of dropped that really needed clearing up.

While Batman was grilling Vlad Masters, Red Robin listened in but then decided to his own sort of questioning with Klarion, the current one.

"So... you called Vlad Masters 'old man'? And your suit is in the 'old man's style'?" the question was asked directly to the current Klarion. Since they were apparently here just to watch Red robin was sure he could just try having a sort of civil talk with his questions.

Klarion on the other hand grumbled crossing his arms, before uncrossing them again to pet the demon cat on his shoulder. "I just went with his dumb vampire look but more fancy and classic and less insane colouring."

The arched eyebrow stayed sort of hidden under his mask but it was there and Red Robin knows that tone Klarion used. It's the same Red Hood has when he begrudgingly admit do doing something the way Batman would. Which raises the a question he already had on his mind, how he could interpret Klarions use of 'old man'. Which would give Batman even more incentive to question Vlad Masters on his relation to the Ghost King. Also for now he was going to ignore the 'dumb vampire look' part, but he did note it down in his mind for later.

"Vlad Masters is your 'old man'?" There probably was a way to ask a little more subtle or nice but they were waiting for the Ghost King to beat up a Demon and he was making small talk with subtitle questioning with Klarion. So sue him for being blunt after all. Also the face Klarion was making right after he said.

"Well Far Frozen gets a hot summer." Was the instant reply and Red Robin blinked unter his mask. There probably was some information he was missing behind that reply.

"Ew no! He wishes though. But Vlad is like double or triple our Mom's age! He even went to collage with Grandpa Jack and Grandma Maddie!" Misrule suddenly interjected apparently done pestering Nightwing as she leaned over Klarion, resting her head on his and causing Teekl to hiss at her. Well that certainly got his attention now and with the way he saw, form the corner of his eyes, Batmans head wipe their way and then back at Vlad Masters it certainly also got his mentors.

"He wishes...? Triple your Moms.... age? The Ghost King?" His mental information board was getting more and more chaotic with the information he was getting.

"He acts like we are his kids and has a right to be called Dad by us." Misrule shrugged dismissively to which Klarion growled, he growled! Red Robin was tempted to check his ears because this was the first time he heard Klarion growl towards his sister.

"The day I call your DNA and my ecto donor anything with the context of father is the day he pays Mom the millions of child support he owns him and additional pays for emotional and physical distress." Okay, Red Robin was not ashamed to say he did a double take at Klarions growl and the fact that several alarm bells went off hin his mind with that one sentence alone.

"Mom has his own castle and riches from the previous King. Not like we would actually need that money. Plus Vlad does pay for your school tuition." Misrule answered her brother, complete ignoring the fact that Red Robin was having a mental crisis and thinking that Vlad Masters might even be an even greater threat, then just a weird and suspicious potential business partner and that the reason he has a summoning stone for the Ghost King might be a custody thing regarding Klarion and his siblings.

So with all these things what did Red Robins brain decide to focus on? "Vlad Masters pays your school tuition? No wait you go to school?"

There was an awkward moment Red Robin received two very similar looking deadpan stares from Klarion and Misrule, the first Klarion.

"Of course I go to fucking school Mom would kill... well no thermos ground me if I didn't." Another drop of information Red Robin didn't know how to handle, what the hell does 'thermos ground' even mean? Was that like their version of grounding?

"Oh isn't today like a school night?" Misrule suddenly piped up pinching her brothers check and Red Robin felt weirdly reminded of some of the interactions he used to have with his siblings. It was strange to see Klarion like that.

"Shit... I forgot to do my part of my group project with Duke..." Klarion grumbled and Red Robin did a double take once more, blinking several times as there was a very very important information drop here, his head snapped towards Nightwing in hopes that the other had also caught it and thankfully, he had and while Signal wasn't present at the moment because he had done day patrols already and had been barely awake anyway when this whole Demon mess started.... they had gotten a hint of figuring out Klarions identity, they were certainly going to use later.

For now they had some more red flags to investigate in regards to the relation of Vlad Masters, the Ghost King, Klarion and Klarion's siblings.

---------------

Little Bonus (Next day after Demon Crisis):

"Hey Duke, who are you working with in a group project?"

"Huh oh that is Dante Masters-Nightingale."

"Masters-Nightingale? As in Vlad MASTERS?"

"Yeah, that what he said his temporary guardian's name is that pays for his schooling."

"Wait didn't I go with Danielle Nightingale-MASTERS to school too? We were like besties in school!"

"Oh god...."

"Tim, you okay you look very pale. Are you okay? Dick too..."

"BRUCE! VLAD MASTERS NEEDS TO BE PUT ON THE RED WATCH LIST AND WE NEED TO TALK WITH THE GHOST KING ASAP!"

[alieinthemorning]

Tears of the Strongest [Gojo Satoru]

Content: Established Relationship, Depressed Reader, Depressed Gojo Satoru, Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, AU: No Curses, AU: Modern, Proofread, Not Beta Read

Pronouns: None

Next: An Addition to Change

Header: @/nikki101pistar on Twitter

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You noticed that Satoru had two types of smiles.

The first could be ugly, strained, sardonic, sarcastic, rueful, malignant, forced, or condescending. Whatever it was, it lacked all warmth, but seemed to want to stay plastered on his face. Especially when he was talking on the phone to employees, his family, or anything adjacent to that.

The second one was one that he almost exclusively used with you. It was a soft, boyish smile that arose when you said something to him that truly caught his heart off guard. Sometimes the smile was small, and other times it was threatening to stretch across his face. Either way, your biggest clue in for discerning the difference was his dimples, and every time he smiled at you like that, you made sure to give them a loving poke.

But regardless of all that, there always seemed to be a darkness lingering behind those beautiful blue eyes of his.

A darkness you were ever so familiar with.

Things were getting bad again with Satoru, the business and his family. Things had taken an irreparable turn when his grandfather named him heir to the company instead of his father. His family had tried to persuade him to hand the company over to his father after ownership was transferred to him, but Satoru refused. They tried to do a lot of dirty, underhanded deals to get that title, even going as far as attempting to assassinate him... multiple times. Even after all that, they still were able to walk free. Not that Satoru pressed charges, since he knew there was no point.

And now here they were at your doorstep. Demanding that you speak some sense into their son.

Luckily for them, their son was there visiting.

"I'll see you in court." Were the only words he graced them with before slamming the door in their faces.

For the rest of the day, your gaze prodded him, but he refused to budge. Until it was after dinner, and you were withholding dessert from him.

He sighed, dramatically lolling his head back. "You're a Gojo. You're untouchable. You're strong. Even stronger than me, Satoru. This is why it has to be you and not your old man. Do you understand?" He recited in a gruff, but bored tone.

You eyed him, "That was your grandfather?"

He nodded, "Yep, I didn't really get what he meant at the time. I mean—I was seven, but now I do." He looked at you through the lens of his sunglasses, a crooked smile gracing his lips. "Regardless of all the shit they try to do to me, they can't touch me because I am stronger than them."

The smile dropped as if he suddenly realized something. "But you're not me. You're not strong. So now that they've come here—which, I don't want you living alone anymore." You rolled your eyes at him. "Now that they've come here, they've forced my hand, but don't worry about it." The smile was back, lacking his dimples. "I'll win for sure."

And he did. He won the case, but he didn't seem surprised. And not because of the heinous crimes that his mother and father had committed, but as if it was expected of him. Failure was not an option. His mother and father were to served life, and although it would be still be a life of luxury, it would be behind bars and away from the two of you.

During the legal proceedings, you were moved from your apartment to his house. You didn't mind, you had been talking about moving in together for a while now. It wasn't like you had any ties to the place, so you packed what little you owned and were snuggled against him the following night.

However, during the day when Satoru was gone, and it was just you in that big house, it made you feel small. Smaller than what you already felt, more lost than usual. You didn't like it. It also heavily disrupted your body's autopilot, so a lot of your days were spent doing nothing until you could finally set yourself into some semblance of routine again.

You said you were okay with the change, and you were,

but you also weren't.

The past lingered, and so did the remnants of Satoru's parent's will. Despite being locked up, there were still people who agreed that Satoru had no business running the Gojo conglomerate. They weren't as vile as his parents, but their campaigns against him were vicious.

And once again, you became their target.

You were unbothered by it. Knowing that you literally had no hand in anything to do with Satoru's business, and you really didn't want to be bothered by it either. The most interference you've done is made sure that he was properly taking care of himself.

But no. To them, you were a different kind of distraction.

So when you laid down with him that night, with his back facing you and an ample amount of space between the two of you, you decided enough was enough.

It was time that you humbled Gojo Satoru.

So, you wrestled him into your grasp, knowing good and well that asking him to talk would be futile. Surprisingly, his overgrown behind ended up in your lap. Your grip on him was firm, but soft as your words came out slow and steady, making sure he understood each and every word.

"Gojo Satoru is not the strongest man in the world. He is not a god who walks among men. He is human, he will die, and the world will move on without him."

It was like something in him snapped. In the moonlight's soft glow did his skin begin to glow, aided by the newfound dampness that rolled down his cheeks. You didn't move to wipe them away, you didn't want him to think that you were discouraging his tears. And you're glad that you didn't for a few moments later did his head slot against your neck, your bare shoulder rapidly becoming wet.

You held onto him just as fiercely when his fingers clutched at your skin, likely leaving marks, but you didn't care. He should be allowed this moment of vulnerability. In the safety of your embrace.

Because every strong point has a weak point.

Once the tears had dried, his voice croaked out a whisper.

"If I'm not the strongest, how can I protect you?"

You smiled, fingers gently brushing those white curls at the nape of his neck.

"We protect each other. We rely on each other. As much as human greed gets in the way, humans still reach out a hand when they're in trouble. And as your partner, I promise to always take your outstretched hand because I love you, Satoru."

His breath stuttered, then he sighed deeply.

"I love you too. So much."

Just as you were Satoru's weakness, you were also his strength.

There was a lot of present/past tense errors in here lol (the opener???? my god). A small bit of grammatical errors. And I changed a few things.

Also, I wrote this shit like a fucking omen because JJK236.

Apollo, holding the rubber ball called "The Gift of Prophesy"

Me, ready to catch that shit: PLAY BALL BITCH

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[chloe-caulfield94]

Thoughts on Nathan Prescott? Do you empathize with him like some players? I surely don't. The guy was violent and killed Rachel and drugged Chloe and Kate.

For me, the overall message of Season 1, Before the Storm and Season 2 is one of empathy. That sometimes people, especially if they went through a lot, don't know how to ask for help but they still need it. That you shouldn't give up on people easily. That sometimes relationships can be fixed. I think that players who react with annoyance or even disdain towards Chloe in Season 1, Rachel in BtS or Daniel in Season 2 have failed to learn this simple, but very important lesson.

Nathan's character could've played into that theme. If his criminal behaviour was a result of the mental condition that his father refused to treat him for, could we really hate or condemn Nathan? But while that angle is teased throughout the game (in Max's nightmare, a phantom of Nathan, who is already dead at that point, asks Max if she's going to kill him just because he's mentally ill), it is demonstrably not an accurate way of portraying his evil deeds.

Nathan has some sort of mental condition which causes him to have sudden violent outbursts. His father, apparently believing that his son being treated by a psychiatrist would destroy the Prescott family name, refuses to provide him with medical care, even though Nathan's doctor is pleading for it.

But Nathan's crimes - his murder and kidnapping of Rachel, his kidnapping of Kate and his attempted kidnapping of Chloe - were NOT crimes of passion. They were NOT results of sudden violent outbursts. They were cold, calculated crimes. His kidnappings of Rachel and Kate were pre-planned, pre-meditated crimes. His photo session of Rachel probably took hours to complete. Those were not sudden outbursts of someone temporarily unable to control their own behaviour. And while his attempted kidnapping of Chloe was him grasping at an opportunity that suddenly arose, he still made a conscious decision to do so.

Likewise, it would be unconvincing to chalk up Nathan dealing drugs at school to his mental condition.

So while Nathan's mental condition is an interesting part of his character, it is ultimately irrelevant when discussing his crimes. He clearly commited his crimes (which were anything but sudden, uncontrolled outbursts) based on his conscious decisions, with planning and preparation.

Another part of Nathan's character is that he's starved for affection from a father figure, because of how cold and uncaring, downright cruel his father is. The way Nathan is treated by his father is shown in BtS. So you could say that Nathan started imitating Jefferson and became his accomplice because he wanted Jefferson to become the father he had never had.

There's a big problem with that explanation. While it might explain, at least in part, why Nathan became involved with Jefferson in the first place, it doesn't fit his murder and kidnapping of Rachel and his attempted kidnapping of Chloe.

Jefferson did NOT want Nathan to perform photo sessions of his own. Jefferson didn't consider Nathan ready for that. When Nathan brought Jefferson Rachel's photos, Jefferson was furious. At that point Nathan had to clearly understand that doing his own photo sessions was not a way to gain Jefferson's affection. On the contrary, he knew it was something that could infuriate Jefferson. But then he decided to attempt to do to Chloe the same thing he had done to Rachel.

This proves two things. Firstly, he didn't mind the possibility of overdosing Chloe, just like he had overdosed Rachel. He didn't care his next photo session could end with another girl dead. Secondly, he didn't do it for Jefferson. He did it for himself. Jefferson didn't want him to do any more photo sessions of his own. Nathan didn't do what he did to Rachel and Chloe because he thought he would impress his father figure. He did it, because he developed a taste for Jefferson's revolting kind of "art". He wanted more. For himself.

This is why I find the voicemail he left Max completely insincere. Who used you, Nathan? Did Jefferson tell you to drug Rachel and Chloe? Nobody told you to do that. That was your choice. Nobody else's.

In the Bay ending, where Nathan is released from prison after mere three years (this is established in Season 2) I'm certain he would go back to his old ways, emboldened by his total impunity. He would find other girls like Chloe. Girls he would on one hand call "whores" and pretend to be disgusted with. But on the other hand he wouldn't be able to keep his hands away from those "whores". He would have to study them for his "art". There would be more shallow graves around Arcadia Bay.

I like to imagine that after Chloe played the matchmaker between Samantha Myers and Nathan, Samantha had a shot at healing Nathan with her love. I want to think that everyone, no matter how broken, can be saved with love. I imagine a timeline where Samantha managed to teach Nathan that love, kindness and friendship bring far greater pleasure than cruelty, hatred and hurting others ever could. In doing so, she would save Nathan. And by saving Nathan, she would save Rachel, Kate, Chloe and ultimately the entire town. The smallest person changing the course of the future, indeed.

But unfortunately sometimes love, no matter how sincere, is not enough. Sometimes people harden their hearts and reject it. And that's how someone starts treading the path of evil. By rejecting love.

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

Hi can I have some advice?? In a little bit of a pickle rn.

So basically, I identify as aroace (like no attraction whatsoever end of both spectrums). My best friend, who we'll call S for the sake of making it easier, is somewhere on the spectrum (I don't remember where rn but it's not very important to the story). We have a mutual friend, A, who is allo. The three of us have been friends since around 3rd grade, and have gotten a lot closer due to sharing more classes over the past year or so. They're both lovely people.

Now, the problem arose a few days ago, when we were riding back from somewhere we'd gone for S's birthday together. It was cold, and because of where we'd gone I'd dressed up in a cape. So I put my arm and the cape over A's shoulder, so he wasn't cold and also because it was kinda funny. We joked around, I sent a selfie of us to the gc the three of us have captioned "No Hetero" (because I'm female and A's male, it was meant to be an adaptation of "No Homo"). All normal things.

Later that night, when I'm at home, S sends me this text:

"Hey uh

I don't want you to tell [A] or make hints bout it or anything

But he likes you now"

We talked, she told me that she told him I'm aroace (which, while technically outing me, I didn't mind because I trust them both and I'd sent the flag in the gc that night so he would've figured it out with a quick google search anyways), and said she'd tried her best to explain. Meanwhile, A is texting me saying that he's sad (I'd asked how he was doing after he asked me), and responding "I found out something really disappointing and discouraging abt a friend" and saying that "it's really private, sorry" when I pressed for more. Which I'm almost 100% sure is about me.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I love them both (/p) and I don't want our relationship to change at all. And so far it hasn't, but I can tell A's more down than usual now. I don't want to break my promise about talking about it to S, beside I don't really want to discuss it unless I have to and A doesn't know I know, but I also don't want to feel like I'm walking on eggshells. I'm so scared of losing my friendships to romance, and this just happened in the middle of a really big and stressful life event for me.

So far things are staying the same, and I'm really hopeful it continues that way. But I'm also very aware that we'll probably have to talk about it at some point, because it has definitely shifted our relationship, at least internally.

Idk, something about knowing that a friend had/has a crush on me completely changes my worldview. Before I was scared of losing friends because society has made us believe that friends and family are second to s/o. And while I do still fear that, I just realized that it's actually possible for this to happen where I'm the "s/o", and after someone gets rejected or breaks up, it's not common (at least in media) to see them just chilling as friends again.

So, yeah. That's the situation, if anyone has any sort of advice, I would be very grateful.

-Raven (signing in case of future updates)

These situations are definitely complicated. It does sound like A developed some feelings and is disappointed those feelings can't be reciprocated. Even though no one did anything wrong, it can still be hard to deal with a situation like this. I'd recommend taking your cues from A. So for example if A pretended that it wasn't the situation with you he was disappointed by, I'd take that as a sign he doesn't currently want to talk about it. But there may come a time in the future he does want to discuss it, or does want to talk about you being aroace, and I'd talk about it then. Sometimes people need a bit of time to deal with hurting feelings, and sometimes when that hurt subsides a bit, they may or may not want to talk and clear the air.

Similarly, sometimes in these situations, the person who caught feelings may want a bit of space to deal with those feelings. If this happens, it doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't want to be friends anymore, so don't panic. And give him whatever space he asks for, but make it clear you still care a lot about him.

Situations like these are going to be more up to A how things turn out, but the best thing you can do to preserve the friendship is just keep being A's friend. Be there for him, listen to him, etc.

Beware treating media like real life. I know of lots of real life examples where someone caught feelings for someone that weren't reciprocated, or dated someone and they broke up, and they stayed friends. These things depend a lot more on individual personality and what kind of dynamic the people involved have than anything else. And when rejection comes because the other person just isn't attracted to their gender, while it's not 100%, people do tend to be forgiving because it's not personal at all.

Remember too that you didn't do anything in this particular situation. You didn't cause him to be attracted to you, it's all just chance. And I'm sure A recognizes that too, so be careful you're not beating yourself up at all over this. Just do your best to be a supportive friend, and I think that's really all you can do in these types of situations.

All the best and good luck, Anon!

[gerudospiriit]

[I brought this up yesterday, but I've been thinking about that post I saw on it again and want to share my thoughts and headcanons on why Ganondorf chose to have Nabooru brainwashed rather than killed for what essentially amounted to treason.

As you all know by know, I headcanon that Nabooru and Ganondorf were a couple and, for all intents and purposes, engaged. Thus, the two were very much in love, despite the disagreements that arose between them in how best to help their people once knowledge of the Triforce came into the picture: Ganondorf obviously wanted to obtain the Triforce to wish for prosperity for the Gerudo while Nabooru felt the idea was dangerous because, if the thing existed at all, she didn't see they Hylians giving this thing up willingly, and they were already hated beyond their desert borders and one misstep away from another war they couldn't afford. As time wore on and Ganondorf began actively attacking the other races of Hyrule, Nabooru made the choice to stand against Ganondorf and try to stop him before Hyrule decided to blame ALL of this for his crimes. As we know, she is unsuccessful and brainwashed for her crimes.

So, the question then is, why? Wouldn't it have been better (especially considering that Nabooru becomes a sage) to have killed her? Why did Ganondorf make the decision he did, especially since this effectively turned the person he loved and trusted the most into a mindless servant?

I'll start with the practical portion of the complicated answer: it would raise too many red flags. Ganondorf murdering his second in command who, outside of maybe a few public disagreements that weren't related to the Triforce (those conversations were always private) in meetings, he seemed to have positive rapport with would raise too many questions he didn't want to answer for since, in my headcanons, he didn't want to involve to Gerudo in his plans. Even if he kept it secret, Nabooru was too visible of a person in the tribe (which is also why I HC that she didn't just sit in the Iron Knuckle armor in the temple the whole time). Someone would eventually start snooping and find out what happened. Plus, a Gerudo king killing another Gerudo without reason wasn't exactly a good look.

The other portion of the answer is he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Even if he could convince the Gerudo in a trial that she committed treason, he didn't want her dead. Twinrova probably tried to convince him to just kill her, being no fans of Nabooru's, but he vehemently refused. Thus, they suggest making her a non-problem through brainwashing. Ganondorf wasn't a fan of this either, but by the time he realizes he is not going to naturally change Nabooru's mind, as in, when she gives him her ultimatum, he knows their relationship is over anyway, and he had to think of the bigger picture. Nabooru posed a threat to his plans and, close as he was, he couldn't risk her meddling any longer. Thus, he did not make this decision LIGHTLY and put it off until the last possible second.

Once she was brainwashed, he didn't have much else to do with her besides passing down orders to her as his second in command as he normally would. Outside of not having time with searching for the princess and ruling the new, broken Hyrule, Ganondorf couldn't bear seeing her in such a state. He avoided her at all costs (meaning, no, he wasn't gross and took advantage of this in any gross ways; he grew up around all women and, in short, he knows consent is sexy and she can't consent in that state even if he had interest in that sort of thing still with anyone, let alone her). In a way, he knew this fate was worse than death for her, but that understanding wasn't enough for him to kill her and make it look like an accident or something. Plus, she was useful this way for helping to search for the princess and putting down rebellions he did not care to deal with himself (under the guise of important missions for the Gerudo to keep people from knowing what she was REALLY up to, of course).

So tl;dr: Ganondorf had Twinrova brainwash Nabooru because it was more practical and would keep the Gerudo from asking too many questions and because he just couldn't do it anyway.]

[i-wear-the-cheese]

Okay so I just saw a tumblr post from February getting aggy about books which are marketing using phraseology like 'queer polyam disabled vampires' and then saying 'but what are the themes? Why should I read it?' And look, I didn't want to drop a huge essay on OPs post but like, here it is, here is a thesis on why you should read a book about queer polyam disabled vampires, or what the other options are instead of throwing this entire marketing technique in the bin.

From the outset, so you know I've put some thought into the matter, I'm going to admit I have a masters degree in critical and creative writing, then worked in a bookshop, then went into publishing, and then got engaged to an author (who I will be marrying). So pretty much all levels of book marketing are things I've looked at professionally and academically. Okay credentials established, here is why I think that's not only okay but actively good as a marketing method AND totally necessary:

Genre is a key feature for selling books. When one says "I'm into cozy crime", they needn't say "I'm into books which have themes of subterfuge , greed, and death; frequently featuring small towns and family drama but ultimately in a setting or narrative style that makes the reader feel safe and provides catharsis". That whole long thing has been handled by Genre. In the above example, vampire is the genre! This means that themes of lust, dominance, power, and taboo are implied or even expected. This is true of Dracula, The Vampire Diaries, Carmilla, and Twilight. Vampire novel fans know what to expect from their genre. This alone means you can recommend a book just on "vampire novel" but it also means if you wanted to market a book containing none of these themes you might say "not your average vampire novel" to deliberately let them know that's being subverted.

Marketing is a battle against attention spans. When you're reviewing a book or talking to a friend about why they should read something, you absolutely should go into more depth and detail and certainly anyone looking at it critically should go further still. But "what are the themes" is a question we've all been taught academically but which holds generally little use on its own. The majority of readers don't respond well to "this book deals with the complexity of familial relationships in a cult setting and with regards to long term polyamory". Now that may have been the exact style of sentence original OP wanted and I personally love those sorts of descriptions when I'm getting into the nitty gritty, but I don't need or expect them from book marketing when I know marketing copy writers (often the authors themselves) have to be brief in a wide range of modern marketing formats. Scroll culture basically means if you can't catch someone in the first half second you've lost them.

The main issue I think that the original OP of that post was getting at was the sense that 'queer disabled polyam' was tokenism and was using those minority groups to sell books. This is a multi faceted bit so hold tight. From the outset: everything a marketing person says will be to sell a thing. They're not going to say 'it's got disabled characters but they're a bit shit so don't read it'. Let's not ever pretend that honestly and sincerity are the goal here. That being said it still isn't by tokenism and that's because of the actual definition of tokenism. Tokenism is a concept which arose during the mid 20th century in the civil rights movement and pertained specifically to parading around one or two examples of a minority person being included in a group to show apparent societal progress without affecting the genuine underlying issues or making things better for all. So tokenism applies to things like Disney claiming 7 separate times that their first gay character was in a show or film, because the purpose of that was to market media for which the main focus was NOT the gay characters. But if someone tells me that a vampire novel is about a 'queer disabled polyam' it is a fairly safe assumption from the language use alone that the MAIN character is queer, and disabled, and involved in polyamorous relationships. Main characters are not tokenism, they are representation.

So why does representation rather than tokenism make it an acceptable marketing method? Because that is precisely how you reach the audience who need it! People who are craving literature which makes them feel seen, and reaches the place within their own identity that mass media tends to conveniently ignore will absolutely be looking out for those sorts of buzzwords. So many people fish about for years and years of their lives for a little blip of representation that it really isn't fair to ask them to have to wade through the initial description of the themes of the novel when they are searching for the single book in 10,000 which will have a disabled lesbian as the protagonist. Representation is not an indicator of quality, but quality is subjective anyway and I personally think I'm really picky about book quality but you can bet your arse I have read books which were recommended on such pithy lines as 'Arthurian legend but in space in the future and wlw' because I love books set in space and I love retellings and I love queer shit. But the next stage is to go 'oh that has a load of things I love in it, I should see if it fits my vibe'. Check out some reviews, or read the first chapter, or ask for some opinions, or just take a fucking chance on a book that ticks some of your boxes. OR (and here is the most important bit) ignore it, and accept that sometimes advertising and marketing is NOT targeted at you and if you aren't in those demographics or you are both that's not what you base your reading choice on, you weren't the target audience for the marketing.

In conclusion, there are a fuck ton of reasons this is a perfectly acceptable and even highly useful method of marketing a book and individual preference shouldn't put authors and copy writers of using it. Fin

[kemendin]

A Relaxing Interlude

"Between dealing with the war against the Republic, and the rather manic aspirations of Darth Baras, Khel had hardly gotten a moment alone with his captain, and consequently very little had actually changed between them. They were still far more Sith Lord and servant than they were two men in love.

"The Mirialan naturally enjoyed their relationship as it was - as he knew Quinn did - but he was aching to expand on it. Now, at last, there was some time to breathe, and he intended to take full advantage."

Lord Khel Sutek finally gets Malavai Quinn alone in their ship for some long-awaited physical affection. Takes place after the class story.

Malavai Quinn x Light Side Sith Warrior Rating: Explicit Words: 7000

Well, here we are, finally did it. First time writing smexytimes! This is coming rather quickly on the heels of my last fic update, and I banged (haha) it out in like three days, so it's a less polished thing that I wrote just for my own amusement. I wasn't sure about posting, but I had such a blast actually writing this, that I figured some folks on here might enjoy it as well.

Read on AO3 (short excerpt below cut)

Khel hid another faint laugh behind his hand. He shook his head. “Quinn, this isn’t a tactical exercise. We aren’t practising combat maneouvres. We’re supposed to enjoy each other’s company.”

Quinn raised his chin. “For me, those two aren’t mutually exclusive,” he pointed out archly, and Khel rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, alright. But you know exactly what I mean. Now come on.” The Sith spread a hand invitingly. “What do you like to do? What excites you?”

Another broad flush assaulted Quinn’s features, and an indistinct noise left him as he rubbed awkwardly at his face.

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” he said faintly. “My lord, I don’t - I haven’t - “ He took a deep breath before going on, “There weren’t many opportunities, on Balmorra, for those sorts of…. liaisons. I did… that is, I… I took care of myself, if the need arose, but aside from that… I haven’t given it a great deal of thought, for some time now.”

Khel managed not to laugh this time, pulling his own features back into something closer to neutrality. “I assumed it had been a while,” he said clinically. “Fair enough. But you must have some thoughts on the subject.”

Malavai glanced up again, still quite pink-faced, and Khel had to resist the urge to step over again and see how fast he could make pink become flaming red.

“Well, in answer to your second question… all I can say for certain is that - you excite me, my lord. Desperately.” Quinn shifted his weight again, and for all his factual words, Khel could sense how even saying this was stirring something in the other man.

The Mirialan stroked thoughtfully at his chin. “Flatterer,” he accused, with a smirk in his voice. “Hmmm, alright. In that case, why don’t I start? And you can just stand there for now and… be excited.” The last words came out low, enticing. Quinn’s eyes widened a bit.

“I - very well, my lord, I’ll follow your lead.”

“And you do it so well,” murmured Khel silkily, as he stepped back so that Quinn could have the full view of him.

Khel took his time undressing; he wanted to make a show of it, make sure Malavai could see every deliberate, fluid motion as the Sith disrobed. He unfastened his belt and let it slide along his hips before setting it aside, then eased his tunic off over his head - slowly, so that Quinn could appreciate every centimetre of golden skin that was revealed. It was nothing the other man hadn’t seen before, of course - but presentation made all the difference. A low laugh murmured in Khel’s throat as he glanced over and saw that Quinn’s eyes were still wide, and his chest was taut with a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“How are you doing there, Quinn? Are you feeling excited yet?”

[elavita]

11/20/2022 - Intro

TW - many triggering topics discussed (Self harm, abuse, etc)

Hi! My name is Finnegan Felix MacPherson, but you can just call me Finn. I am 20 years old, and I am from Buffalo, New York. I enjoy nature and long walks on the beach. I have 2 parents, and a sister. I am fascinated by anything. My passions include sailing and learning new languages. I go to school for engineering, and I love everything about it.

And,

I am gay.

Growing up in the Midwest was not always easy. I have lots of trauma as most 20-year-olds do now. As you may know, it's not always easy being, well... different.

My family is quite loving, yet dysfunctional. We all have our issues, and we all don't know how to deal with them. I personally have body dysmorphia, depression, and anxiety. My sister has OCD. And my parents don't know how to deal with those situations.

School was tough, but I got through it. I came out when I was 15, but I've had issues regarding my sexuality before then. I was 14 when I was sexually assaulted, and it had me all sorts of messed up. It spiraled me down into a dark valley, filled with dead Ash trees and decrepit gargoyles and castles. This is what lead me into a my 'gay panic' phase. An aside - I am not saying that the sexual assault, is what caused me to be gay, but it definitely made me feel inferior as a human. This contributed to my body dysmorphia, and hypersexuality later in life.

Upon entering high school, I was constantly made fun of for how I look, talk, and act. I wasn't like the other guys. I loved sports, and still do don't get me wrong, but I also was very musical and a nerd. I got called many slurs, such as 'fag', 'queer', you name it. I hadn't even realized I was gay, yet all my classmates made this decision for me.

Eventually I did come out, slowly but surely. I told friend after friend. I initially came out as Bi, but I began to come to terms with only liking boys. However, someone who I thought was my friend had outed me to most of the school. I decided to come out publicly at school. I had no other choice.

I began to develop anxiety and depression. I started to slit my wrists.

I hated myself.

I told my sister and parents about my revelation, and they also had found out about my cutting habit.

They were terrified.

Not because I was gay, they were super accepting, but they were afraid I was going to kill myself. They sent me off to therapy, but it never really has helped until recently.

I spent my teen years crushing on straight guys, something quite unproductive. This lead me further into an even more sinister state of mind. Despite being clean for a couple of years, I started to cut again.

On Christmas Eve during my senior year, I tried to kill myself. I was sent to the hospital, and I felt so guilty for making my parents stay in a hospital during Christmas. How perfect, the happiest time of the year, and I wanted to kill myself.

Eventually, I got "healthy", and graduated in the top five percent of my class. I decided to start school in Florida, where I would live with my aunt and commute. That really didn't work out though.

See, my aunt wasn't the most agreeable person on the face of the planet. She bullied me and my grandmother, who was living down there at the time, quite profusely. I also got involved with people. I had met someone who I thought I could trust. I ended up giving away my virginity to this person, because he said it was going to develop into a relationship. This sunk me back into a horrible state of mind despite being ok for the past half of a year. Things only got worse when conflict arose with my aunt. The constant fighting with her got so bad, I had to drive my grandmother and I all the way back to Buffalo the day my semester ended.

I was lonely, scared, angry, and sad. I had lost friends, and a family member.

Upon returning home, I had learned that my father had lost his job. This crushed me, and I began to self-harm again. I attended school virtually the following semester, and then I transferred back to a local school.

Things were much tougher, which lead to my anxiety spiking to all-time highs. Eventually, I went back to therapy, and I have been dealing with my mental illnesses ever since.

I also started to have horrible body perception issues after leaving Florida, and still continue to do. I go to the gym now every day. I'm told I look great; however, I still see the same fat kid in the mirror every single day.

Now here today arises. Instead of being a year and a half clean from self-harm, I am only two days clean.

My dog passed two days ago. He was my soul, my best friend.

I've also been going back to church quite frequently as I am again struggling to accept my identity, and I feel so lost in regard to my sexuality. I hear that what I feel is wrong, and that I am able to control my urges, yet I feel like I am going to explode if I don't express my true identity.

This all has coalesced in yet again me trying to kill myself two days ago and slitting my wrists. I am no longer feeling like I want to end my life, but I am still so lost and depressed. I feel like the weight of a million suns are pushing down on my chest, while I gasp for a breath.

I have actively been trying to hide my left wrist, but it's hard to do that especially when you live with parents who worry as much as mine do about my well-being.

I also was sending pictures of myself to people I had met on various dating apps. I hated doing that, but my past relationships with people had made me feel like I had to do that to get a boy's attention, and that is the only way I'd be wanted. I hated degrading myself, but I thought I wasn't worth anything to begin with.

This is ultimately what lead me back to church; where I have only felt more confused.

I haven't had sex in nearly two-and-a-half-years now, and I quit self-pleasure. I feel hopeless when it come to love. I feel like I'll never find 'the one', like they always say in TV.

But that all could change.

I have been hanging around this boy. He is in a class of mine. I actually think he may be gay too, and that's not just wishful thinking.

His name is Jacob, and he is just like me.

He loves engineering, and he is passionate about it like me. He is so easy to have and hold a conversation with. He is so smart, and funny.

He is gorgeous too. He has sandy hair and brown eyes. Kind of lanky, but in a cute way. His smile beams like the Las Vegas Strip, and he is so handsome. He has great style.

His scent is what really gets me. I am not sure what cologne he wears, but he smells like the breeze coming off the warm Mediterranean. I desperately want to steal one of his sweatshirts, and just wear it. I want to be surrounded by his aroma. I am usually allergic to such perfumes, but his is so ambrosial.

He looks so cuddly and cozy now that it is winter. He dresses in sweats or jeans, but he wears a big heavy parka every day to school.

Hearing his voice makes me want to jump into his arms. It is so melodic, and deep.

His lips... his lips are so plump and red, like a ripe Gala apple. I want to kiss them so bad. I want to taste his saliva, and caress his face, as he holds me.

But I don't know if he feels the same.

I think I have a crush.

~ Finn

[whet-ones-write]

Baku Birthday 2021

So I’m posting this a /little/ early because I’m just too excited to share this fic! So I joined in with Bakugou’s Birthday Bash hosted by these amazing people!!

@phasmwrites​ @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @jodrawssmut​ & @ramen-rambles​ 

And since joining I couldn’t have found a more supporting and helpful group on Discord!! Special thanks to: @hoe-doroki​ for being my beta reader and editor!! Thank you for dealing with my sorry, inconsistant ass and giving me the strength to pull though and just do some of my best writing to date! I haven’t written so much in so long and it was rather nice!! 

And to @notchesandbullets​ for telling me I can do this and be those words of praise when I needed them the most helping me pull though and finish this!

Contains: DragonShifter!Reader x Bakugou. Fantasy Setting,

WC: 3755 - Masterlist to all the works!!

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, oral (Female + M reviecing), Cowgirl, unprotected sex, Cum eating, Premature Ejaluations (if you squint), Age gap? It’s implied Reader is much older than Katsuki. Restraining Katsuki, Pervert Kiri

Looking around his throne, Katsuki couldn’t help but scoff at what came to his mind. He had everything a chief could want, but it still wasn’t enough for the young, barbaric male. Vast and grand was his home. People were happy, going about their day, harvest due and bountiful, the river running steady and clean. 

Though, he was still missing a vital element to his life. Someone to make him happy, to have by his side and call his own. So the only thing he had left to need or want was someone to walk into battle with him, because not just any person would. 

No, they had to have a few key traits to meet his standards. They needed to have a willingness to fight, to want to protect those around him and themselves with everything they had. They had to be able to take flack and a joke but also be serious when the time came. They had to be able to take no shit from anyone and make sure to be willing to put others in their place if they went out of line.

It wasn’t much! Honestly…Or at least he thought so. 

“...ugou, Bakugou!” A voice snapped him from his thoughts as he glanced at his adviser, unhappy over the fact he was interrupted from his thoughts. 

“What is it?” Katsuki questioned as he lazily shifted his attention to the man standing at his right side. 

“As I was saying, there have been some sightings of strangely coloured dragons in the nearby valleys. We do not know if it is one or more or if they’re passing by or staying. Moreover, they have yet to attack the villages, but it would be wise to at least investigate the surrounding areas before anything happens,” his assistant spoke as he looked for what the King was going to do. 

Taking a moment, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile as he got up and began to stretch. “Eijirou, prepare for a flight. It seems there might be someone that needs a reminder of who those valleys belong to.” 

Though to the Bakugou family dragons were revered and seen as good omens, there was a limit. Dragons that fought over territory could be destructive and wipe entire lands from existence, so if there was ever more than one in an area it could prove to be a bad omen instead.

One dragon or one family were seen as protecting the lands, keeping invaders at bay and being loyal by nature. Though another one could offset the balance, should they prove to be hungry or hostile. The valleys in which the Bakugous lived were famous for having the longest standing relationship with the red dragons of the Kirishima clan. They had served one another for generations with the latest duo being that of the Barbarian King Katsuki Bakugou, son of the late Chieftess Mitsuki Bakugou, and the dragon that protected the lands, Eijirou Kirishima, son to late Hikori Kirishima.

Standing at seven feet, the mostly human nodded and saluted as he walked with his friend outside. “Yes, sir.” He beamed happily, seemingly excited by the prospect of seeing another dragon. “Though, what are your instructions, should they prove hostile?” 

“Hostile?” Katsuki mused, placing a hand to his chin as the other morphed into that of a forty-foot-long dragon from the tip of his nose to the very end of his arrow-pointed tail. Once finished, Kirishima leaned down to lower his wing, letting Katsuki get on by walking up the thin bone of the arch of his wing and holding onto his spines, climbing all the way to behind the red horns that adorned his head. “Should the dragon wish to try and stay, we will start through the diplomatic route.” 

That was the thing about Katsuki. For all his bloodlust and anger, he was quite the strategist when it came to monsters several times his size. Having worked with Eijirou for some time, they had built up a bond of trust valuable for when trouble arose. 

“Should that fail, we will have to take things up a notch. I would like to avoid a fight if at all possible.” He sighed as he clung to the horn while the other took off. “The valley is full of fish making their way upstream for the breeding season,” he muttered before groaning and slapping his face as he remembered something, getting even more irritated. 

“It could be a female dragon,” he groaned, looking down to Eijirou. “With breeding season approaching, it could prove very troublesome,” he grumbled as he lay down to keep low as Eijirou took to the sky. 

“Hm,” came a deep rumble from the beast.

A female dragon would be far better than a male should they be able to move it along. It could prove worse in the long run, though, as other males came to try and have their chance, destroying the local landscape fighting over the female. 

“Not going to be influenced? I know you’re a young male.” Katsuki snickered as the dragon grunted and shook slightly in a ‘no’. “Don’t worry, whatever happens we’ll sort it,” he offered quietly as he calmed down to focus on the mission at hand. 

They took to the base of the mountains and looked for any signs of disturbance. With fear running though the nearest village, it was clear to see that the crops were half unattended and in the middle of being harvested. “I’m going to go take a look at the surrounding areas and talk to the locals. You go on up the mountain and scout that out,” the Chief commanded. With a short huff and a nod, Eijirou turned to slowly and carefully make his way up and around the mountains. 

It wasn’t long before Eijirou returned with some news. Meeting in the center of town, the dragon descended slowly and waited for Katsuki to approach before he spoke. “I found a trail of blood from the ground leading up to a cave roughly halfway up the mountain. 

Nodding, Katsuki signaled for Eijirou to lower himself so he could climb onto his back. “Sounds about right. The locals saw a figure flying unsteadily across the sky and into the mountain. There was a loud thump before all went silent. It’s more than likely a dragon. It hasn’t done harm to the villagers yet, though, so a slow, quiet and careful approach is needed.”

Coming to the entrance of the cave, Katsuki hopped off Eijirou, immediately noticing the plants had been recently crushed and a splattering of dried blood was leading into the cave. Looking up to Eijirou, he nodded and quietly led the way in. Eijirou used a small breath to light the torch that Katsuki would have to use to see. 

It didn’t take them long to find the cause of the blood and crushed plants. Lying in front of them was a bronze dragon just as large as Kirishima, if not bigger, bleeding heavily from it’s hind leg, belly and face. 

“Holy shit,” Katsukimuttered as he looked over the sight. He froze as the dragon raised its head. Chuckling, you looked over at Katsuki and Eijirou. “If you have come to kill me, at least make it swift.” 

“Tch, don’t lump me with most humans,” Katsuki stated as he approached you, looking over the wounds. A huffing could be heard as he made his way closer, your muscles tense and beady eyes watching his form, ready to attack should harm come. “I’m a Bakugou. We don’t harm your kind.” 

“You may not harm but you enslave. I feel sorry for the red scaled one over there. Forced to serve you like their ancestors,” you mumbled, laying your head down and closing your eyes to rest. 

Eijirou huffed before he sat down. “I’m not. It’s nice to have lands that we don’t have to fight over and live in harmony with humans,” he protested, watching as Katsuki assessed the wounds. “I am from the Kirishima clan.” He beamed, almost a little too excited to say so. “It’s nice to see another shade of red around here. Normally those of the Shinsou clan are around these areas.” Eijirou started, tilting his head to the side. “So what brings you here?” he mused. 

Which was how you explained your side of the story. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to attack those of draconic race because of the first dragons causing havoc and turmoil for humankind. You were a young dragon who still had not found some land to live in. So, you were aimlessly looking around for somewhere to sleep before you were ambushed by a kingdom that had a bad past with dragons, driving you out. 

“Well,” Katsuki started as he backed off. “If you revert into your human form, we can take you back and give you medical aid. I’m not about to let a creature like you just die pathetically cold and alone in such a depressing state.” 

With that, they watched as your form changed into a bloodstained, corseted, sleeveless dress, wings still visible with a tail barely peeking from beneath your long skirt. Their eyes lingered for a little too long to be completely respectful.  

Getting up from where he lay, Eijirou gently enclosed you in his claws, protecting you, letting Katsuki onto his back before taking off back to the kingdom to give you the aid you needed. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next thing you knew, you were waking up to some argument going on outside, though you took no heed to it. After all, you would need to at least stay to repay the kindness the human has shown you before taking your leave. 

As the flap to the tent opened, you looked up at the figure that came to inspect you in the cot. “How are you feeling?” The one that entered had torn red wings and a thin arrow-headed tail much like that of the dragon you’d seen earlier. 

“Much better, thanks.” He watched you as you got up to move around.

“Yeah, my mother is a great healer.” The man beamed proudly before his face dropped for a moment in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” He offered a hand for you to shake as he introduced yourself. “I’m Katsuki’s dragon companion. Speaking of which, when you feel up to it, he wants to see you in the throne room. He’s currently occupied with some business, so why not come later tonight before dinner? He wants to talk to you about some things.”

“Ah I see” You nodded in agreement though still clearly wary of him. 

“Yeah, my mom specialises in herbal and magical treatments for dragons. You should be fighting fit by the end of day! So enjoy yourself and have a look around! You’re more than welcome here as long as you don’t kill anyone.” You found yourself chuckling lightly along with him as he waved. “See ya! Rest up well and don’t push yourself too hard!” He beamed as he left. 

As Eijirou left you alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but think back to just how trustingly and kindly Katsuki had treated you. Taking your leave from the tent, you looked to the sky to gauge the time of day. Deciding you had at least an hour before the sun would set and you would need to see the Chieftain, you went to see what the town had to offer.

As you walked among the townsfolk, you couldn’t help but notice that dragons and humans walked around one another as if that were a normal thing to do. Had things always been like this? And how had this not spread to other countries? Though be that as it might, you were happy for these people; they seemed to be comfortable and welcoming just like the man who had found you. Perhaps you could stay a little longer than intended… 

Still, once the sun started to set you walked back the way you came only to come across a tent larger than most, assuming that was where Katsuki would be wrapping up the day. 

You slowly opened the flap as some villagers came out, happily discussing the day’s harvest before you heard. “Come on in, dragon!” Katsuki called as he remained seated on his chair smirking to himself. “Feeling better, I see?” he questioned as he sat up straight. Even like this, you could see and feel the power he irradiated. 

“Yes, much, thank you.” Bowing, you smiled before you were told to stand upright. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please just let me know. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.” 

The moment those words left your mouth, you had a feeling that you were either going to live to regret it or thank him.

“Speaking of which,” he started as he leaned back and patted his lap. “Please, come here,” he commanded. Once you approached, he leaned forward, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger as if inspecting you. Up close, you could just see how deep ruby red his eyes were as well as how sharp his teeth were. For a human, he had a great set of fangs on him. ‘Shame he’s a human; he would have made a great and fierce dragon,’ you couldn’t help but think before he spoke, bringing you back to reality. 

“Yes, you’re perfect,” he muttered, pulling you into his lap forcefully by your waist. “Strong willed, a fighter, and someone I could learn to grow better with,” he stated as he suddenly captured your lips. “You will be my partner,” he stated as his hands wandered low. 

Spluttering and blushing, you thrust your arms at his chiseled chest, putting some distance between the two of you. “B-But how do you know? I could kill you! You barely know me,” you protested, though with his power he forced you to fold your arms, leaning in to whisper. 

“But you owe me your life. Surely this is nothing and if you don’t feel like you’re the one you’re more than welcome to leave,” he purred.

You knew he was right. This young, powerful man knew that dragons didn’t back down on their word, and so serving him would mean repaying the debt? A small price to pay, truly. 

“So why not get on your knees for your Chief and thank me properly?” he offered, leaning back and letting go of you. You watched as the grin on his face was almost ear splitting as you sunk to your knees in front of him. He let his hands wander down his trousers to help you get them off and down to his ankles. 

“That’s it,” he praised, reaching out to gently lay his hand on your head. His eyes watched you with keen interest as you slowly took him into your mouth. He wasn’t completely hard and you shifted to get a better angle and grip him in your hands, though he tried to encourage you with soft words. “That’s it, fuckin’ take it all in,” he muttered as he leaned back, getting more comfortable on his throne. The grasp on your hair got tighter as he started to get impatient and guide your face along his length. “Come on now, no need to be so shy about it.” His teeth showed as he smiled. “You’ve lived longer than I have, surely you have the experience?” he goaded. Which, if you were honest with yourself, was true. You were most likely older than him, and could show him a thing or two while you’re at it. 

Straightening your back a little from the floor you looked over his hardening dick. Licking your lips, you took the head in, using the flexibility to weave in between the head of his cock and the shaft before leaning up and taking it in as much as you could. Tongue flat, running along the thick vein underneath, you slowly bobbed your head back and forth, breathing when you could. It wasn’t long before you felt a tug with the hand that ran through your hair to pull you away from him, leaving you panting, and breathless from working so hard to please him. 

His cheeks flushed a bright pink he chuckled almost as breathlessly as you, having forgotten how to breathe in the moment before letting go of your hair. “What a good girl,” he praised as he shifted back and patted his lap.  “Why not come for a ride?” he questioned as he watched you stand. “I would have taken you back to my room, but I'm feeling impatient. It’s my birthday after all,” he informed, eyes hungrily watching over your form as you stripped naked, and then worked on taking off his trousers completely. 

“Your birthday?” you questioned him as you straddled his lap. “I see. Perhaps this will be enough of a gift then?” you mused lining yourself up, slowly trying to sink yourself down on him.

His head slammed back against the back of his throne as he groaned. You were taking your time, though as you hadn’t prepared yourself. You knew your body could and would stretch, but it was painful to begin with. He was stretching you to your limit, but you licked your hand to reach down to let the saliva coating his dick for an easier entry only then were you able to sit down fully on his lap. 

Taking a good minute or two you both sat, panting, just feeling one another as you got used to the stretch of his cock within you. His hands empassing your hips, he tried to get you to move, but you had other ideas. It was his birthday? That’s just fine, but you would make sure it would be a ride he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. 

You gently grasped his hands and took them off your hips to raise them above his head as you started to roll your hips back and forth. Leaning in close to kiss him and to distract him, you used your tail to wrap his hands above his head. He only just realised when you leaned back.

“W-What the fuck is—shit—the big idea?” he panted as his eyes were glued to your form, which started moving so effortlessly up and down on his dick. 

“It’s your birthday. I want to spoil you, so enjoy the ride.” Chuckling a little darkly, you couldn’t help but use your wings to give you some extra momentum and power into your movements as you rode him. 

He couldn't believe just how lucky he was to have such a beautiful person ride him within an inch of his life. You knew just what to do and how to please him, which, to his embarrassment, had him orgasming not much longer after you started. 

“F-Fuck!” he grunted, unable to couldn’t help it when his hips met yours. Though your gut had only just started to coil with your own orgasm, much to your disappointment. You remained seated on his lap as he came down from his high, letting go of his arms. 

He watched you only to frown. Noticing you hadn’t orgasmed yet he couldn’t help but feel like a teenager all over again. 

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. 

Growling, he forcefully lifted you up from him as he slid to the floor, getting you to sit in his seat. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you to his face and started to lap up not only at his own cum that had started to seep it’s way out from the confines of yourself, but searching for any original taste of your own essence. This surprise had you leaning over with a groan. In all your years, no other man had been so willing about doing this. 

Smirking from the inside of your thighs, he knew from your expression that you were loving it or at the very least surprised by his movements. “What?” he questioned, so close to your cunt that you could feel his breath ghosting it. “Never been eaten out before?” He seemed a little too smug, as if he almost already knew the answer. 

With a shake of your head, he only shifted closer and got more comfortable as he nudged your clit with his nose. “Hmm, good. I'm a man starving for pussy and it’s delicious, so don’t mind me,” he muttered before his gaze lowered. 

Though his dick felt great, this was almost a thousand times better. There was no painful stretch, only a soft muscle, though not deep. The slurping and sucking sounds and sensations were what quickly brought your end. He was more than happy to guide you though your high as you remained hunched over his head, hands which you now realised were in his hair, forcing his face just that much closer. 

Leaning back once you had come back to Earth, you watched him as he wiped his chin and cheeks with the back of his arm. “Thank you for the meal.” He chuckled, giving off a lopsided smile, showing off the pearly whites of his sharp teeth. He stood as he gathered up his trousers as he got dressed. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner in my home,” he stated as he turned to you and passed you back your clothes. 

Slowly taking them, you nodded as you got dressed despite the shake in your legs. “Y-Yeah, I think I will,” you confirmed as you slipped back into your clothes. 

“Good choice. I’m not finished with you yet, beautiful.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek before taking his leave only to find a very flustered Eijirou waiting outside. “Something wrong?” Katsuki questioned with folded arms, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

“N-No!” the dragon protested, though the redness that was spread all the way up to his ears gave him away. 

“Next time, just ask. It’s rude to eavesdrop.” Katsuki laughed as he walked away, going to join the mass for dinner. 

“K-Katsuki! I had to make sure you were safe! After all, she’s a rogue dragon,” Eijirou protested in earnest. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that would be something that Eijirou would very much like to do. 

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki took a seat at the head of the banquet table, waiting for your arrival before the festivities could begin.

[bio-nerds-corner]

philza minecraft adopts two dragons, beats imperialism, and overcomes his fear of vore a novella (WORLDBUILDING)

have some assorted worldbuilding and stuff expanded upon that i couldnt figure out how to add organically to the story :>

Prior to the Sponsunk-Heart accords that solidified relations between the countries and protected humans, the relationship that dragons had with them was far more overtly predatory. Esempea as a country was founded on desperately trying to stem the flow of lost citizens and food to the endless hunger of invading dragons.

The population per square mile in most of Jeag is incredibly low, with exceptions in larger cities and along coasts. This along with the fact that roads don’t have any need to be maintained means that to most humans, the entire country is an untamed wilderness and the dragons living there  similarly monstrous.

One of the longest standing beliefs in dragons about humans is one that has saved many traveler’s lives - taking in a human who is traveling through your lands as a welcoming host could give you curious trinkets and mechanisms that are too fine to be crafted by dragon claws. Enough grateful clockmakers and tinkerers travelled through Jeag to enforce the belief that simply having humans around increased the likelihood of getting rare delicate gifts.

Prime is a travelers-merchant god that arose as a result of this same phenomenon. One of the only maintained roads in Jeag is the Prime blessed Path, and it marks a straight shot from the border through many of the larger commercial centers in Jeag, including the Heart. Prime as a god is invoked less formally these days, though most Esempi who live on the border or travel within Jeag land still keep a trinket or two on their person as a talisman 

The friendly relations between humans and dragons have been around for maybe 4 human generations and 2 dragon ones. The ‘good ol days’ of looting without much regard for those stolen from are a lot fresher in the minds of the older Jeag elite

Esempea (Es-em-PAY) and The Esempi (Esem-PEE) are interchangeable as the nation name, though the latter is used for descriptions. 

Phil doesn’t have any bad leg, he’s got a balance disorder, likely caused by some childhood ear infection or something. Causes him to constantly feel that swaying feeling you get after coming off of a boat, and makes him uncertain about his walking as a result. I didn’t put as much research as I really should’ve into this I’m sorry :( it just wasn’t that big of a deal in the larger story beyond it being reduced in intensity while flying and being stored, since Techno’s wingbeats counteracted the swaying feeling

Storing is done for young dragonets that are unable to or only just began to fly. While Techno wouldn’t know it, storing larger things will gradually stretch it further, in order to accommodate the growth of the dragonet. Maybe one day he’ll be able to comfortably carry both Phil and Wilbur :)

Because of its strong association with hatchlings, storing items of significant enough weight will instinctively give dragons a strong protective desire that can bleed over some unhelpful patronization and infantilization of suitably sized humans along with it. A rather unfortunate amount of spur of the moment relationships between humans and dragons lead to the dragons, unknowingly or not, treating the human like some sort of hatchling-pet. As you can see Phil is pretty desperately determined not to be one of those ‘trophy-humans’

One of Wilbur’s pastimes in the capital would be to try and coax these feelings from random dragons, get them cooing over him and wanting to bring him home, before up and vanishing on them and watching them grow distressed and disappointed. Awww poor nobledragon, did your new little hatchling-pet have too much brains to sit through this bullshit? What a shaame. He didn’t make many friends. 

Tommy will definitely try to convince Wilbur to let him attempt storing before he’s big enough. Imagine an owlet choking on a mouse when picturing what happened next. A lot of desperate head flailing and regrets.

The Antarctic incident isn’t touched upon much in the fic beyond it being 1) bad, 2) got techno in jail for life and 3) went against Jeag entirely. I didn’t ever really hash it out (more fun to imagine it from the bits and pieces don’t you think ;P)  but basically, a younger Techno was a part of a force stationed far south who encountered another group of dragons, a pirate party. His job was to apprehend or kill these pirates who were disrupting southern trade, NOT decide to recruit them in his own plans to unify all of the southern reaches as a competing power with Jeag. Quackity was there for the Saint Malo Trials equivalent. it’s a little funny I played out the Antarctic Empire while completely excluding two major players (Phil and Wilbur) but eh what can ya do. Anyways he was tried with treason and was like 5 years into his lifetime sentence when Dream got him out. 

Sponsunk -> Spawn chunk. Jeag -> Jean, the ‘name’ of the ender dragon. Everything else is pretty easy to guess ;P

please for the love of god prime if you want to know more about this world just ask ;P i have spent so long in this headspace making this fic i would love to talk about it <3

[rjzimmerman]

I’m on a silent rampage about the US Supreme Court. That rampage is part of my overall disgust with lawyers and the games they play, disrupting logical decision-making at all levels of government, destroying personal relationships over otherwise resolvable disputes and generally fucking up most everything we do every day by framing everything within legal constructs and ignoring the safer and saner approach of “doing the right thing.”

If you read this and you’re a lawyer, your face is red and you’re pissed off now. OK. However, I get to be on this rampage, because I’m a lawyer. Retired, with a retired lawyer license from the State of Illinois, but still a lawyer. I lived in that world for 40 years, including three years of law school. I never felt as estranged and alienated from lawyers and the legal process until after I retired, when the opportunity arose to take a critical look at the profession and its perverse impact on our society and who we are. That has worsened over the past five plus years, coincident with the bullshit we’ve experienced in the process of selecting judges, including US Supreme Court justices, and watching their performance.

This linked article is important, and highlights the sneaky tactics that the current conservative Supreme Court justices use to impose their personal values upon all of us, and disguise it behind procedural quirks that few of us understand, such as “justiciability” and “standing” and “res judicata,” rather than deal with real issue in front of them. The US Supreme Court is perceived by most of us as the third branch of government, part of the checks and balances that we trust works. But when the justices play procedural games and defer an honest decision, the reputation and credibility of the US Supreme Court is adversely affected. While these “shadow docket” tactics and legal and defensible, they are wrong, just plain wrong.

Perhaps I shouldn’t “blame” the tactics on the conservative justices, because those with a progressive value-set have used the lawyer rules to avoid decisions and play games (but not as frequently or strategically). Maybe the problem is that these Supreme Court justices see themselves as lawyers first, protecting that profession and its rules, rather than as appointed members of the third branch of government, with a moral obligation to act that way rather than act as if they are in traffic court.

In addition to the recent “decision” to play ostrich on the Texas abortion law, here’s another game recently played. Recall that recently a group of students sued to challenge the rule imposed by Indiana University that students had to be vaccinated against COVID. One US Supreme Court justice, Justice Barrett (aka Hand Maiden) had the power, pursuant to internal rules of the US Supreme Court, to deny hearing the case. While I personally disagree with the students’ position, how can we tolerate one justice telling the students to fuck off? They were entitled to be heard, particularly on an important issue in today’s pandemic world, and the justices were obligated to hear the arguments, think and decide.

The New York Times has another article in today’s edition (September 3, 2021) about the flaws being exhibited by the US Supreme Court. It’s an Op-Ed authored by Jamelle Bouie entitled, “In the Dead of Night, the Supreme Court Proved It Has Too Much Power.” I encourage you to read that Op-Ed as well as this linked article about the “shadow docket.”

Couple of parting thoughts:

One, four of the nine justices received their law degrees from Harvard, and four from Yale. The only outlier is Hand Maiden, who received her law degree from the University of Notre Dame. Perhaps we ban from the federal judiciary any graduate of Harvard or Yale law schools. Those lawyers are trained primarily to be law clerks, working for other judges, then jumping generally to the top tier law firms, making millions of dollars representing Fortune 500 corporations and their jillionaire executives and owners. It’s a closed loop guaranteed to deny ordinary folk a decent life.

Two, the US Constitution does not require that judges, including US Supreme Court justices, be lawyers. How about prohibiting lawyers from being judges? I sort of suspect chaos, but “good chaos” (sort of like Representative John Lewis’ “good trouble”). I like that idea best. (Plus stacking the Supreme Court, imposing term limits of 15 years, and requiring that hearings be televised, streamed, and broadcast on radio or its internet equivalent. And get rid of those fucking robes. If they have to wear robes, they are not allowed to wear clothing beneath; that will speed up the process.)

[rjhpandapaws]

Bad to Work With

Ch 3: Things to (Never) Learn from Hindsight

//Going to preface this with the fact that I didn’t mean to write angst, it was supposed to be fluff

Gavin wasn’t one to learn from his mistakes. A considerable feat considering the sheer number of mistakes he’d made just in recent history. He would suffer the consequences and come out on the other side only to make the exact same mistake or one that was worse. Hindsight wasn’t something he benefitted from. He looked back on most of his mistakes with the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time before he did it again. Up until recently he wasn’t a victim of situational regret. This was one of the few times he wished he could go back and undo something. Not so much the night itself, that wasn’t what he had come to regret; but the elevator ride. If he had managed to keep his mouth shut for once in his life he wouldn’t be staring down yet another coffee cup adorned with a sticky note. It was a different cafe this time, they always were. It seemed like whenever Gavin left his desk there would be a coffee waiting for him when he got back. This was the first one he had ever gotten that was waiting from before he’d arrived.

It wasn’t even that it was bad coffee. These niche cafes Richard was finding had amazing drinks. Gavin had even gone to some of them on the weekends. The thing of it was that he had a system despite the fact that his desk looked like a bomb had gone off. Richard didn’t know what the system was and he would set the cups in whatever open space was available and then leave. On the few occasions Gavin didn’t notice them in time they wound up getting knocked over. When they fell it was either onto the other papers or into his computer terminal. The papers were usually salvageable; but he was pretty sure Silas was ready to murder him. He probably had it plotted out and everything. Gavin sighed quietly and picked up the foam cup. There was no logo on this one, so he found it safe to assume it was from one of the newer cafes in the area. The sticky note on the other hand was short and simple. Gavin would have even dared to call it sweet if it were from anyone other than Ricard. He stuck his note to his monitor like had with all the others and settled in at his desk for another long day.

The issue was Gavin was almost endeared by it. He hadn’t been in a romantic relationship since high school, and no one had ever tried like this. Not for him anyway. It was making what was left of his resolve wear thin. Richard had learned exactly one thing about him and ran with it. The level of emotion to it all was what had Gavin on edge. He didn’t do feelings because he wasn’t good with them. It was less draining to just have a night with someone and then go their separate ways. He’d never had to resist his own wants like this. He avoided repeats for a reason, he wasn’t about to change that. He wouldn’t let things get beyond coffee. Except, as he waited for his computer to boot up he texted Richard.

Me: Thanks for the pick me up. Coffee Supplier: Of course, I’ve been meaning to try out that cafe for a while. Me: It’s pretty good Coffee Supplier: Definitely. Coffee Supplier: Have a good day Gavin. Me: Thanks, you too

It was the first time he had actually messaged Richard. He had saved his number to be polite, but never planned to actually use it. He hadn’t expected to have a normal conversation. It was nice in a way.

That’s where it should have stopped, would have stopped if Gavin had been stronger. The short text conversations became just as routine as the coffee and sticky notes. They didn’t really talk about anything meaningful, and made a point not to talk about work. It was almost like talking with Tina; if there wasn’t that unspoken something hanging over them. The temptation lingered, as it always did. The easiest excuse to use was that Richard was his superior. The truth of it was that Gavin was scared. The last time he had loved someone he wound up burned with his heart in pieces on the floor. He’d been younger and dumber then, but he still wasn’t sure this was a risk he was willing to take again. So it stayed small. Limited to brief conversations at work, notes passed through coffee, and text messages when they had the time. He stopped keeping the notes on his monitor after Hank had asked about them. They had their own desk drawer now. If he kept these things compartmentalized he could pretend that he wasn’t slowly being pulled in.  Gavin was short sighted, so at the time it had seemed like a full proof plan. Out of sight out of mind, that sort of thing. Even though he knew ignoring his problems only made them worse. Just this once he hoped it would work.

It turned into a bad week. The kind when he was just praying to make it to Friday. He made plans with Tina to meet up at Eden on Friday night. He just wanted to have a night to let go for a while. Be someone else. Monday was fine, but Tuesday marked the start of everything going wrong. It started with his computer crashing; it wasn’t coffee related for once, and things kind of stock piled from there. The heat went out in his apartment complex, and then his car decided to finally die on him. He had ignored the Check Engine Light for too long. He was at the point that if anything else went wrong this week he was going to fucking lose it. Friday, thankfully enough, was his half day. He wasn’t in the office long enough for things to go wrong. He worked through the morning and pulled a disappearing act the moment the chance arose. He planned to sleep for a while before meeting up with Tina at Eden and then leaving with a stranger. He had things he wanted to forget, and blue eyed problems to ignore. Eden was packed, like it always was on Fridays. Business types and the lucky public who could manage the cover charge were all out to get relief from their weekly boredom, and Gavin was right in the middle of it. Dancing with strangers and accepting any drinks that were offered to him. Anything to take his mind off of his problems. Especially the blue eyed one that had been haunting him recently.

He was in the sweet spot. Just past too drunk to give a shit, but not absolutely wasted yet. Which also meant that he was just beyond sober enough to recognize the steel blue eyes of the person he was dancing with. That they were the same eyes he was drinking to drown out. All he was concerned with was how well they fit. In any other circumstance the fact that this felt so familiar would have been cause for alarm. He was a little more sober by the time they managed to stumble out to a cab. Not enough to care, but enough to confirm that yes, this was something he wanted to do. Gavin was more caught up in the moment than he was concerned with the mild prickle of familiarity in the way this man said his name. He chalked up the ease with which he was unraveled to desperation. Anyone could be an expert in Undoing Gavin Reed if he was desperate enough for an escape. Tonight happened to be one of those nights and every red flag was excused and brushed aside in favor of chasing the pleasure. They were a problem for Sober Gavin. He would have the rest of the weekend to deal with them.

Consciousness came back to him slowly, like it always did after a night of drinking. He was rested and contentedly sore in ways that meant he had followed somebody home. Whoever his companion had been, they weren’t one for cuddling. He rolled over and found himself alone. It was slow to sink in that this particular room was a little too familiar. Once the thought made it through the haze of his hangover Gavin cursed under his breath. His memories of the club were hit and miss at best, he remembered dancing with strangers and drinking more than he probably should have. There were stern blue eyes sprinkled into them here and there. Gavin had done a repeat. That moment of clarity was accompanied to the door of the room quietly opening. From the look on Richard’s face he clearly wasn’t expecting Gavin to be awake yet, “Oh. Good morning.” “Hey.” He replied groggily as he sat up. There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence as Richard set Gavin’s now clean clothes on the bed. He gave him a onceover before retreating from the room like the devil himself was on his heals. It made Gavin feel sick to his stomach. He had definitely fucked up this time.

He got dressed slowly and tried to figure out what to do. Apologize was the obvious answer. But for which thing? All of them? The list of things he hadn’t done wrong was probably shorter at this point. When he finally gathered the courage to leave Richard’s room he was met with the strong smell of coffee. This was the moment of truth. “Your friend Tina says you owe her fifty bucks.” Richard said without looking at him, “And if you ever leave without talking to her again she’ll take your coffee money.” Gavin flinched, “Sorry you had to deal with her. Sorry for everything really. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” “Which ‘this’?” He asked as he turned around with two mugs of coffee and held one out to Gavin, “Sleeping with me again, or being so drunk that you didn’t notice who you were with?” “All of it.” He admitted and held the mug with both of his hands like the warmth would protect him from his mistakes, “From the first time till now. For the text messages. Everything.” “Did you even mean any of it?” There was an emotion to Richard’s voice that Gavin didn’t want to dwell on. He was being given an out, and he wasn’t about to pass it up.

If he were a better person he would have been honest. Instead, he set the mug down and reached for his phone. “No.” He said as he stood. He didn’t look at Richard as he walked to the door, “It’s been fun though.” When the apartment door clicked shut behind him there was an air of finality to it. Another mistake he wouldn’t learn from. There was no coffee on his desk on Monday morning. Things were finally back to normal, so he didn’t understand why it felt so empty.

[angeloncewas]

Does the fact that CCs can now get away with a lot by pointing fingers at mcyttwt concern you as well? I keep thinking about that part specifically regarding the party thing. I don't think these responses would be tolerated if they came from other content creators. This is one side effect of the toxic behavior on twitter I feared.

Ohhh boy. Yeah, it does.

(Sorry, I don't think you wanted an essay, but it happened.)

I am very happy that the problems with mcyttwt and the culture it has cultivated over the past few months (give or take) is being brought to light and directly addressed. It's some bullshit cliché rhetoric, but the first step really is recognizing that you have a problem and at first glance this speaks to good things.

We've seen it happening more often in a variety of cases. Remember that thing I always bring up about the twibbons? And how it's completely ridiculous to demand a mass-change of profile pictures on a public platform for the sake of your personal well-being? Well, a similar problem arose yesterday, and the responses were... really good. Some of them were rude - people always take stuff too far - but the top replies were a polite, but firm, "if the pfps are bothering you, maybe you should get off of Twitter." That's progress ! Very good progress as these people recognize and encourage the curation of ones' own environment and mental health. And that's just one example - I've seen plenty of others where I was pleasantly surprised by the way Twitter users pointed out the bad behavior in their midst.

The new problem (or one of them) is that people tend to think in a very black-and-white mentality. I'm not saying I don't - we're all in this together - but it first felt worrying to me in response to Jawsh's repost of his tweets. The ones that fiercely condemn what he refers to as "stan culture," seemingly generalized to twt communities.

People were agreeing with him. Not like a "he makes some good points" type of agreement; a wholehearted, all-in, fuck these people and this platform and everything that mcyttwt is attitude from the stans' own mouths (or, uh, keyboards). The discussion was no longer "here is what our community is now, here are the problems, here's how we fix them," it was about pointedly distancing themselves from that toxic - and frankly embarrassing - group they were just in.

And that's where we get to the content creators themselves.

The timing lines up nicely with that burner thread - the one showcasing mcyttwt in all of its horror and glory - but I'm more inclined to call that a coincidence than a catalyst. Regardless, the creators - after months of cc neg and twitlongers and DNI lists only growing - think that they're fully aware of the state of the "mc twitter" fandom. That it really is this hivemind of crazies who rag on everyone for every little thing. Jawsh was right, Schlatt was right, stans fucking suck and are idiotic little fatherless mentally ill children-

Do you get where I'm going with this?

I'm trying not to sound too slippery slope fallacy-y because I know that poking fun at the flaws of your fanbase (or ones adjacent to you, depending on who you are) doesn't mean you're about to go full Noah Hugbox on their asses. And, at the end of the day, this specific instance was just a legal party with some surrounding debate. A debate that they... didn't even stop to consider. Which is fair, I suppose, they don't owe us anything, but like I said that makes me worried about the precedent that's unwillingly being set.

The fact of the matter is that it's very, very easy to slip into one of two parties: for, or against. When it comes to content creators, this is usually the blind rage they go into when they see criticism and the automatic way their brain files it into the tidy folder up there labelled "hate mail." I feel like we've already seen Dream get close to becoming that kind of person (understandably, he gets a lot of shit) -but he managed to catch himself around his first contact with Hasan and things (I think ?) have been pretty decent since then. Great.

There's no telling how other creators will react to that kind of shift though. And I know it doesn't sound like a big deal because "we don't control their lives," but I'm thinking big-picture here. I'm not pulling arguments out of my ass when I say that seeing "mcyttwt" as a bullshit community full of keyboard warrior sjws who need to go out and touch some grass is a full 180 from the current state of the fandom and that's not inherently good. Mcyttwt is extremely hyper-critical, but their concern often stems from genuine fears as minorities and wants to do better and make sure that other people do the same. I don't think that people outside of the community see that and a lot of the people who criticize it don't want to because they're not actually invested in the community's well-being, they're just mad they can't be racist without getting ratioed anymore. Yes, it's just the internet and some things are pointless to get mad at, but the online space is still the real world and people's shitty-ness is still... shitty.

Do I think they can get away with anything? Not really, no, but I'm curious to see what the future holds. It's easy to be apathetic and say "I don't give a shit what creators do" - have a sort of relationship where criticisms are dismissed because their attitude in turn is "fuck those people" - but in my opinion that's not a healthy way to consume content. That's how all those awful fucking people slid on by for years and the community was dominated by "edgy" folk who'd sooner mock you for your pronouns than give a performative "trans rights." I hope for progress, but this feels a bit like regression.

[hermannsthumb]

Hermann has a one night stand over and has the embarrassing realization he has a “type.” - ksci 😘

this ficlet evolved in so many different ways over our discord DM’s and all were so terrible. set in the amorphous period post-movie where newt and hermann share a homoerotic bachelor pad but refuse to acknowledge Things about their relationship. sfw but for the general notion of there being a one night stand and one Thought that hermann has

---------------------

The last thing Newt expects to see when he stumbles into the kitchen one otherwise ordinary November day (rubbing sleep from his eyes, clad only in boxers, and thinking only about getting his espresso pot on the burner as fast as possible) is a stranger flipping eggs at his stove. No, not just flipping eggs—flipping eggs while wearing Newt’s bathrobe. Newt blinks blearily at him a few times before he’s convinced he’s not imagining things. The stranger is whistling a Blondie song. “Oh, good morning!” he says to Newt.

Newt waves tentatively. “Good morning?” he says.

The stranger in Newt’s bathrobe grinds some pepper over his eggs, then adds a little bit of shredded cheese. Newt didn’t know they had cheese in the fridge. Did the guy bring his own? He turns the burner down and wipes his hands on Newt’s bathrobe with a smile. “Would you like some coffee?” he says, and nods his head to the coffee maker on the counter. “I was just about to set a pot on, so I’ll make double if you do.”

His hair is wet. He must’ve used the shower before he put on Newt’s bathrobe. Did he use Newt’s shampoo, too? Probably; the only other option would’ve been Hermann’s, and Hermann buys that 3-in-1 kind that Newt can’t imagine anyone willingly putting on their head. “Coffee would be great,” Newt says.

“Regular is fine, right?” the guy says. “Not decaf?”

“Please,” Newt says.

He squints as the guy rinses out the inch of old coffee left in the carafe from yesterday afternoon and rinses out the filter basket (Hermann is always getting on Newt about not letting that shit sit in there overnight, but he always forgets anyway—it’s not like it’s gonna get moldy overnight). The thing is, Newt’s sure he doesn’t know him. Not even in a passing way, like you might recognize a distant colleague or a friend of a friend. Newt has never seen this man before in his life. He’d absolutely recognize him, too, because he’s not the sort of dude he’d forget seeing—decent to look at, in a sort of nonthreatening, scruffy sort of way, with some wavy dark hair (newly washed with—probably—Newt’s shampoo), a little bit of stubble, and a pair of glasses, and carrying a general air of affable charm with him. Nice smile. Maybe two or three inches on Newt. Newt’s bathrobe parts open as the stranger reaches up into the cupboard for a new coffee filter, and Newt gets a flash of his bare, tattooed chest. “Hey,” Newt says, as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar, “no offense, but who are you?”

The stranger blinks at Newt, and then laughs. “Sorry, man, I thought you knew!” he says. “Hermann said it was cool with you if I crashed—I came home with him last night. I’m Scott.”

Newt has always known—in the vague, abstract sense—that Hermann is an adult male with sexual urges, and sometimes with the need to satisfy those sexual urges with someone who is not his hand, and that Newt agreeing to be Hermann’s roommate meant that he would eventually have to deal with that fact, but—if Newt’s being totally honest with himself—he’s always just kinda assumed that Hermann would come to him to satisfy those urges when they arose. It was a logical assumption, he thinks. They share an apartment. He’s only three steps across the hallway from Hermann. They, like, drifted together, and do grocery shopping together, and have a chore chart on their fridge. Scott is wearing Hermann’s boxers under Newt’s bathrobe, he notices now—Newt recognizes them from when it’s his week to do the laundry. Plus, Hermann writes Gottlieb on all his waistbands. Newt attempts to keep his expression perfectly neutral, toying idly with a salt shaker. “You did?” he says.

Scott ducks his head in false bashfulness. He’s kinda ugly, now that Newt is looking at him more, kinda boring. Definitely no more than an inch in height on Newt. And he needs a shave. And his tattoo is totally lame. What does Hermann see in him? “Yeah,” Scott says. “It was a totally random thing. My buddy Bradley has this band, and they had a gig at this bar downtown late last night, and I, like, wasn’t even gonna go, but his bassist got some stomach bug or something, so Bradley asked me if I could fill in for her last minute, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Newt says. God, does this guy ever shut up? Newt liked him better when he thought he was a burglar.

“I played bass in, like, college,” Scott says, and pops some of Newt’s twelve-grain bread into the toaster oven, “but not since then, so I was like, look, man, it’s not gonna be good! But the gig paid in some free booze, you know, so—”

“That’s my bread,” Newt says. And my bathrobe, he doesn’t say.

“Oh, do you want some too?” Scott says.

Newt hesitates, and nods.

Scott pops some twelve-grain bread into the toaster oven for Newt, too. He picks up the only ripe avocado from the counter and easily cuts it in half. Newt was planning on using that for a burrito tonight. “Anyway,” he says, “when we finish the first set there’s a martini waiting for me at the bar, and the bartender (Brad said his name was Mike or something) is like, ‘it’s from him,’ and there was Hermann, and I was like, holy shit, it’s that scientist who was on TV last year!”

“Wait,” Newt says. “You met Hermann at the bar?”

When Newt went to bed last night, it was around ten o’clock, and Hermann was up in the living room dozing over the latest round of edits for their new joint article. He was in his pajamas, for God’s sake. He was half-unconscious. “Don’t stay up too late,” Newt had told him, and Hermann had laughed. At least Newt knows why, now. What the hell kind of secret double life has Hermann been leading? “Yeah,” Scott says. “We really hit it off, and we had some drinks, then he invited me back, and, uh—” He shrugs, grinning sheepishly; Newt’s bathrobe slides down his shoulder with it, giving Newt a long glimpse at a handful of hickeys rising up from his bare skin.

Newt counts to ten in his head and tries not to start crying. He’s being stupid—it’s not like he and Hermann are, like, together, or that he has a claim on Hermann, or even that he has a right to get upset that Hermann is apparently only interested in guys who steal Newt’s shit and have stupid chest tattoos. Is it because he’s taller than Newt? Maybe if Newt started buying those platform docs, Hermann would want to make out with him. It’s not a bad idea. “So cool for you,” he says.

“You’re that other scientist, right?” Scott says. “You were on TV with Hermann?”

On TV—if it’s the interview Newt’s thinking of, it wasn’t a very flattering one for him or Hermann. They kind of started arguing over each other about halfway through and kept finishing each other’s sentences, while the interviewer (one of those late night talk show host guys) thought it was the funniest shit in the world. Those early post-drift days were weird, man. Like they were sharing one brain. “Yeah, that’s me,” Newt says. “Newt. Hermann and I are—uh, were?—research partners.”

Scott divides the eggs, toast, and avocado among three plates from the cupboard, and slides one of them over to Newt. He pushes another in front of the stool next to Newt. Newt is super pissed to see that the whole plate looks extremely appetizing; usually, he doesn’t have time for anything more thrilling than half a grapefruit or peanut-butter on toast for breakfast. “That’s so awesome. And cool. Like, all I do is teach yoga, you guys are famous, you helped save the world. You must be so smart.”

Newt perks up. Maybe the guy’s not all bad after all—definitely astute. “Well,” he says.

-------------------------

On the other side of the apartment, perhaps some twenty minutes later, Hermann wakes up half-nude, modestly hungover, and feeling rather sore in the way that assures him that he hadn’t dreamt bringing home that handsome musician from the pub last night. The pile of jeans and t-shirt atop the rumpled bedclothes to his right (which he spots when he rolls over with a yawn) only confirms it further. He’s relieved, if he’s being honest, even if he’s not quite looking forward to having to politely kick the fellow to the curb once he locates him (likely in the shower, or using the loo, or perhaps even searching for something in the refrigerator); Hermann was in dire need of a good shag as of late. Too tense over that article with Newton. Too tense over everything, really. This ought to tide him over for a while.

As he gropes around for his cane and pajama trousers, he realizes he smells coffee brewing. Newton must be up and about in the kitchen, then. Disappointing. He can’t say he minds the coffee, but he’d rather not have to deal with his, er, date in front of Newton, for he’s certain Newton will get a grand kick out of teasing him over it all later. And things have been rather...strange between them since they moved in together on top of that. Though it’s no use dwelling on that now. 

It takes him until he’s just outside of the kitchen for it to become clear that Newton is not alone in there—Newton is in there with someone else, chatting away like nothing else. It’s very clear whom it must be. Hermann steps around the corner.

“Hey, dude!” Hermann’s date and Newton say at the same time.

Hermann looks between their two scruffy, bespectacled, eager faces, and their two bare, tattooed chests, and thinks to himself, well, this certainly explains some things.

He takes a seat at the breakfast bar mutely. There’s a plate of food in front of him. Newton slides him a fork.

“Scott and I were going to check out that sandwich cafe down the street later for lunch,” he tells Hermann. “You wanna come?”

“Er,” Hermann says.

“We were gonna watch a movie first, though,” Scott says.

“Oh, yeah!” Newton says.

Hermann picks a piece of crust off of his toast.

“Hey, Hermann, you okay?” Newton says. He touches Hermann’s arm, his eyebrows furrowed. “You look kinda weird.”

“Hungover,” Hermann says, faintly. Scott sets a mug of coffee in front of him with a sympathetic frown, and—after some wordless, pointed directions from Newton—a bottle of ibuprofen from atop the fridge. Newton unscrews the cap and nudges two onto the edge of Hermann’s plate. Scott sets a glass of water next to the coffee. Marvelous bloody teamwork, Hermann thinks, also faintly. “Ah,” he says. “Thank you.” He forgoes the water and swallows them down with the coffee, instead. 

He needs that man out of his apartment.

“Hey, Hermann, guess what?” Newton says. “Me and Scott have the same glasses prescription! Isn’t that a weird coincidence? Look—” He and Scott swap their eyeglasses, and grin—almost identically—at Hermann, then laugh—almost identically—in unison. A scream threatens to rend itself from Hermann’s throat.

“Uncanny,” he says. He wonders what would happen if he went to bed with both of them at the same time. For one mad second, he’s tempted to simply say bugger it all and suggest it, but realizes—to his horror—they would almost surely high-five over him afterwards. 

“I think I need a bit of a lie-down,” he says. And perhaps a serious reevaluation of things.

"We’ll bring you back a sandwich,” Newton promises.

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 8: Change of Heart

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 4550

Warnings: None

A/N: As always comments and feedback are appreciated! I hope you all are still enjoying the fic so far!

Prev

Next

Diavolo’s face was a welcoming sight to Solomon that morning as he left his room. He beamed the moment their eyes met and crossed the room in order to meet him. “Good morning! I trust you slept well last night?” his booming voice was almost too loud for Solomon, but it still brought a smile to his face.

“As well as a scholar can, yes.”

Well, books hadn’t been the only thing keeping him up last night. His dreams hadn't been too terribly helpful. If only he could have a little peace of mind while he slept. Maybe he’d crash tonight after his little outing. Asmo was rather high energy and Solomon had no doubt that he’d most likely be worn upon their return. Maybe he’d even sleep for a day. That would be rather nice the more he thought about it.

Diavolo nodded, “I will admit, it took me a while to get used to things here as well. It’s easy to become homesick, but Lucifer and I take visits back home every now and again. I promise it will get easier.”

“Were they all as welcoming to you as they are to me.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t here with the late king,” Diavolo shook his head, “Or maybe he would have liked you a little better than me. You aren’t the one who wanted to marry Lucifer.” That’s right, neither Azazel nor his brother had wanted Diavolo to marry the crown prince. From what he could gather, it sounded like Azazel still wasn’t fond of the union. “The point is, it takes them a while to warm up to people, but they will soon enough.”

Hopefully. Solomon seemed to be making way with the family, so he could only assume they’d start to like him soon even if just a little bit.

“In any case, how have things been with Asmodeus?”

Ah.

Oh.

“I know he was excited by the fact that you took the whole ‘Lilith’ thing well, a little melodramatic, but still happy,” Diavolo continued, “He’s been talking about how his eventual wedding would be the ball of the century ever since Lucifer and I got married.”

Solomon hadn’t even talked to him about the wedding. He’d been so caught up in learning about Arcadia that the wedding seemed more like a concept to him than an actual event that would occur soon. When was the coronation? How much time did he have left? Why had it not been more focused on his radar? Now that he thought about it more, he didn’t have a single clue about what any of his wedding plans were going to be. What food were they preparing? What times was everything occurring at? What was he supposed to wear? Were people going to witness their union? They were only a few of a long list of questions that Solomon should have known the answers to, and yet he didn’t.

It seemed like whenever Solomon solved one problem, another one arose. For whatever reason, it never occurred to him that their union would be a big event. Lucifer's would have been since he was the crown prince, but his? A small ceremony to seal them together would have sufficed. Did it really need to be big?

"He certainly has been dreaming for a while now hasn't he?"

"He certainly has," Diavolo nodded, “He has rather vivid dreams, they’re not always big in the grand scheme of things, but they’re very specific.”

So that probably meant that Asmo was hellbent on what he’d said to him last night. No matter how he tried to change the direction of his thoughts they always came back to the outing he was supposed to have today. Solomon knew love couldn’t be forced and that love was a rare thing to occur within an arranged marriage, but would Asmodeus accept that? Surely he had to know this small fact. Perhaps he was just in denial.

But why?

Why not just accept what life had given to them and be excited for the opportunities that it could provide?

“Has he talked to you about it?” Diavolo’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“About what?”

“His ideas. Surely you’ve heard some of them.

Solomon's blank expression must have said all that Diavolo needed to know. His face fell slightly. Solomon couldn't read the expression well. At first he thought that perhaps it was confusion. Disappointment? He couldn't place his finger on it. What he did know was that it made him feel uncomfortably guilty.

"Oh. I see," the pause between them was only a second too long, "You should spend more time with him. He's a kind person. Just a little-”

“High energy?” Solomon finished. Kind? Well if him ensuring Solomon that he’d fall head over heels for him was considered kind, Solomon would agree. This was the first positive thing he’d heard about his fiance the moment he’d stepped onto the grounds. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he really hadn’t heard too many good things about Asmo, only the things that he couldn’t do quite right. What could be the truth?

“Well yes, but I may have a soft spot for him,” Diavolo continued, “He was one of the few who made me feel welcomed here. ‘Anything for my big brother’s husband’ he’d say. We spent a lot of time chatting and sometimes he’d offer to take me to various places in Arcadia. All when Lucifer was busy of course.”

Maybe he had been a bit more well behaved because Diavolo was more than willing to spend time with him. Solomon was a busy man, he had research to do among other things. He couldn’t just drop his research at any time. Nonetheless, he could still contribute to the conversation. “Forgive me for saying so, but I find that a little hard to believe. Only because you seem to have a soft spot for most people you come into contact with.”

There was that booming laugh.

“Am I truly that easy to read?”

“Only a little.”

Diavolo was a genuine man. Solomon had to wonder if he had some sort of magic of his own to cause people to loosen up around him, or was he just that charismatic? Either way it made his marriage to Lucifer feel even stranger to him. How could there possibly be anything there deeper than the arrangement? Then again, according to Azazel, Diavolo seemed to have more of an influence of the crown prince.

What allowed someone to become that close?

Well, Simeon had some influence over his own decisions, but their relationship was different. Solomon would have had to been naive to think the two were equivalent. Diavolo and Lucifer had something beyond a close friendship and Solomon could see it even if he was rather confused by it.

“I think Lucifer might be your favorite person though,” he wanted to see what he said. He wanted to see how Diavolo talked about Lucifer. In a way, it was a roundabout way of him wanting to know more about the elusive eldest.

Diavolo seemed to melt right before him, his eyes turned gooey and warm and his body relaxed. “Perhaps, he’s a wonderful man and stunningly beautiful. The most ethereal being I’ve ever seen, sometimes I doubt that he’s human,” he sighed, “He’s intelligent too and an absolutely capable ruler.”

“You admire him.”

“I love him,” Diavolo corrected, “I’d do anything for him, I’d give my own life for him.”

Solomon didn’t know why those words threw him off. Giving up your life. Would Solomon do that for anyone? He wasn’t sure. He had people that he wanted to protect, yes. But giving up his own life? Thinking about that wasn’t something he wanted to do at the moment or later. It was a morbid concept.

“Asmo is quite smitten with you,” Solomon was vaguely aware that Diavolo was still talking, “He was completely fine when he left, but when he came back he was spellbound. I think it was good for him to have a little joy.”

It was easy to forget that the family was dealing with two deaths: the King and their sister. There had also been supposed assasination attempts. How much tragedy followed the family around?

It didn’t mean that he was going to give in to Asmodeus’ every demand, but he would try to keep those things in mind.

“It feels good to see him lively again, he was so anxious when it came to pretending, I know I was relieved that you took it all well.”

“I’m happy he’s not anxious anymore as well, I was worried I was doing something wrong. I’m glad to know that that wasn’t the case.”

Diavolo’s hand grabbed the handle to the door to the caverns as he turned back to Solomon, “We should talk more, I heard you’re going to have an outing today and I’d love to hear more.”

***

“Will you ever be on time for any meal?” Asmo huffed, crossing his arms.

“Maybe one day,” Solomon hummed, taking a seat, “But I did show up.”

“If you showed up early we could spend a little time together before everyone else got here.”

Solomon noticed that Asmodeus wasn’t looking at him. Following his gaze, Solomon saw that he was staring at Lucifer and Diavolo. Diavolo had his hand on the crown prince’s shoulder. He leaned down close to his ear and said something that made Lucifer smile ever so slightly and chuckle. He mouthed the word sit, and Diavolo took his place next to him. It was incredibly tender. No one else seemed to pay it any mind, but Asmo’s fingers gripped at the table.

“I might be able to come sooner if someone wouldn’t mind teaching me how to navigate the castle.”

He noticed Asmodeus nod slowly, but he didn’t look towards him. What had gotten into him? What about Lucifer and Diavolo had him so fixated? Unfortunately his little novice charm didn’t give him all of those answers. Did he dare reach up to see what he was feeling? It could give him an idea of how to steer the conversations.

His hand wandered towards his chest. But before his fingertips could brush against the pendant, Diavolo’s butler entered the room. “Breakfast will be out shortly, but I do have tea ready.”

Barbatos started at the head of the table, pouring tea for each member and setting out small biscuits. When had been the last time he came to breakfast? He came to other meals sure, but most of the time Simeon brought it back to him as he often slept through it.

“Welcome your majesty,” Barbatos said, pouring the steaming liquid into his cup, “It’s lovely to have you join us this morning.”

“Oh thank you.”

“Your scribe seemed to be getting tired of you missing meals.” Wasn’t he the bold one? “Anything in your tea?”

“No thank you.”

Barbatos nodded and moved on to Asmodeus.

“No cream or anything? Really?” Asmodeus leaned over to look at his cup.

“Really. I stay up rather late, and sugar makes you crash.”

“Then what about sugar rushes?”

“It’s a temporary rush. It won’t last in the long run.”

Lucifer had taken his tea black as well, so why was it so intriguing to Asmo that he might drink his own in a similar fashion? It was almost like it was some sort of secret or big surprise to his fiance.

“You really are a serious guy aren’t you.”

Now what was that supposed to mean?

“Does that mean you no longer want to go out?”

“No!” Asmo jumped in quickly, eyes going wide, “No we’re still going out. You can’t get away from me that easily.”

“I didn’t suspect that I would, You seemed rather determined.”

“Well good! You shouldn’t think that you could get away.”

Solomon snorted. He looked around the table to each of the members. Levi wasn’t fighting with Mammon like they’d been on the first day he got here. While the two of them weren’t talking, they seemed to be getting along better. Satan was focused on a book from his library, one that he’d have to remember to ask him about later. The twins sat silently. Well, Beel sat silently, Belphegor was asleep. Solomon also noticed that unlike the rest of his siblings, he was dressed in black. Had he been dressed in mourning attire when he arrived?

“Husband!” Asmo sang waving his hand in front of his face, “You should be paying attention to meee.”

“He ain’t your husband yet Asmo,” Mammon chuckled, before Solomon could even get a word in, “And he won’t be if you scare him away.”

“I won’t scare him away!”

A few of the other brothers snickered from around the table as Belphie opened one of his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, “When you met him you weren’t you.”

Solomon heard a bit of an edge to his voice. It wasn’t playful like Mammon’s had been.

“Enough,” Lucifer held up his hand, “It’s too early for this. We’re going to have a nice breakfast as a family or else I’ll banish you from Arcadia.”

“Aw come on Luci, you wouldn’t banish your baby brother would ya?” Mammon asked, leaning a little closer and batting his lashes.

Lucifer only narrowed his eyes, “Don’t test me.”

***

“Mammon runs the treasury, Levi is the head of the navy, Satan holds the records, and the twins split agriculture. Belphie takes care of the animals when it comes to stuff like milk and eggs and Beel takes care of crops and beef,” Asmo had been talking the entire ride down to his sector. He counted off each one of his siblings on his fingers as he named them off. He’d chosen to sit shoulder to shoulder with Solomon instead of across from him. Not that he was surprised. Asmodeus was rather clingy. “Lucifer as the head stays in the center and oversees all of Arcadia. He wasn’t always the welcome committee, but he had to take over. Luckily he has Diavolo for that now.”

Solomon shifted trying to give himself more room only for Asmo to follow him, “And what do you do?”

Asmo grinned, “Oh showing interest? Well, if you must know, my district takes care of little self care items. Lotions, perfumes, flowers, pretty things. Honestly mine is the best. Sure the other things are important I suppose, but what is life without beauty? My district is the most beautiful and therefore it's the best.”

Well, that seemed a bit shallow. Was looks the only thing he really cared about? All of the other things he had listed were equally important. How could he undermine them for the sake of his own? Every element came together to make a community. No one aspect held everything together alone.

“You’re going to love it. I can’t believe I haven’t taken you here sooner! Well I kind of can, after all I wouldn’t have been able to if- Well, you know.”

The carriage stopped and Asmodeus immediately seemed to perk up. The carriage bounced with him as he waited for the chauffeur. As soon as the door opened, he took Solomon’s hand and walked the two of them out. The first thing he noticed was a few timid townsfolk peeking out from behind their doors or windows or even stared from their stands.They seemed fixed on Asmo. Of course Solomon remembered that many of them most likely stayed hidden or on a low profile because of the death of the king along with the threats. It was nice to see some other life around. A royal being around probably put them at a higher risk.

“Hello my adoring darlings!” Asmo sang, “I’ve decided to treat you all with a visit today, and I’ve brought my soon to be husband to see all of you! Make sure you show him just how wonderful you all are!”

Solomon caught the sweet scent he usually associated with Asmo wafting from one of the shops. So, they did come from here. How frequently did Asmo visit? Slowly people emerged from their houses and stands and continued to go about their days. Asmo grinned at him and took his hand.

“Come on, I want to show you around.”

Asmo spent most of the time talking about himself. Asking if Solomon thought he looked pretty, if his town was the best one he'd ever seen. That was the last thing he really remembered as he started to tune Asmo out at that point. There was so much he could take of this man just talking about himself. He figured that he might learn something about his fiance, but it turns out he was wrong. Did Asmo seriously think that this would get Solomon to like him? He knew what Diavolo had said, but still.

Was he really that nice?

Or was he more like what he'd heard Azazel describe?

Whatever the case, he was trying too hard to impress him.

Asmo led him towards the center of the square and turned to face Solomon, “If I can get some musicians together, would you like to dance with me?”

“Oh, well, I’m not the best dancer,” he could at social events if he had to, but it wasn’t something that he would do in his free time. The idea of there being a possible audience also made him nervous. He stepped back and looked around, "Perhaps another time."

Asmo's face fell slightly, but he let Solomon step back. It almost seemed as if he was trying to think about what to say to convince Solomon to change his mind.

"I think I'd like to meet some of your people and to look at the products they create," Solomon continued, taking note of the plant life around him. Each of them seemed to have some sort of pink tint to them. At least the color themes seemed consistent.

"Of course."

The people were seemed rather intimidated by him. Not that he blamed him. He was an outsider king and a rather prominent figure at that. He was going to marry their prince. He took notes as they wandered. After all, he was going to have a say when it came to this place, he should know more about it.

Asmo’s chattering eventually dulled with each increasingly listless response Solomon gave and he scribbled away in his notes. Perhaps he finally understood that Solomon needed to focus, that he needed quiet if he was going to make any progress in his studies. He paused in his strides when he came to a patch of flowers surrounded by tiny metal arches.

They smelled impossibly sweet, almost as sweet as Asmo's perfumes. What were they? They weren't anything that Solomon was familiar with. He was certain they didn’t have them back at home. This was something he could ask his fiance about. It was only when he turned to ask him did he realize that Asmo wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere to be seen actually.

His eyes glanced around the area. Surely he couldn’t have gone that far? Was he really that upset by the fact that Solomon wouldn’t dance with him?

He plucked one of the flowers and started to try to retrace his steps to find his fiance. This was supposed to be a date between the two of them. Of course he would lose his fiance here. Of course his fiance would run out without telling him. Of course. Of course it had to be this way. Of course his fiance couldn’t have been reasonable. Of course-

There were children laughing.

Children?

“You’re doing so well!” his fiance was standing among them, engaging in their little games. This was a different side of him. They were all in a little circle with their hands linked. Sometimes the children would break the chain and run around before finding new spots.

He wasn't striving to impress them, perhaps because they were children (and easy to impress).

He's a kind person.

Diavolo had said he was kind. Solomon had been skeptical. The more he watched, the more he realized that perhaps he’d been wrong. He’d judged him too harshly. Perhaps he hadn’t been as level headed as he thought.

Watching him laugh and play with the little ones was certainly an experience all on it’s own. He seemed like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Solomon also had another realization.

Asmo had a different type of worry plaguing his mind. He’d been nervous that Solomon would reject him because he wasn’t Lilith sure, but after he’d been worried that Solomon wouldn’t be impressed with him. His worries transformed and were presenting themselves through a different outlet. Solomon hadn’t been paying attention because Asmo was smitten with him, which was the minimum that he needed.

He could be good to him.

He could be kind to him.

It seemed like Solomon hadn’t been doing the best job at doing those things the more he dwelled on it. To put it frankly, he’d been ignorant. Solomon couldn’t even say that he wasn’t completely unaware of how he’d been acting. He hadn’t been terrible to Asmodeus, but he certainly hadn’t been good or kind either. He could have been better.

One of the kids must have tripped or something, because the next thing Solomon knew he heard sobbing.

“Oh darling, it’s alright, hush now. It’s only a scrape,” Asmo’s voice carried to Solomon’s ears. It was soothing, it felt safe. It lit something inside of him, a feeling that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Whatever it was, Solomon knew he enjoyed it. His voice alone could convince the tension to leave his body and place his mind at ease. It felt like if Asmo said it was alright then everything had to be alright. Slowly the sobs settled and the child buried their head into Asmo’s shoulder. Slender fingers ran through their hair in an attempt to sooth them.

Solomon realized that this was a third face he had never seen from his fiance before. How many more could he possibly have? What more did Solomon have left to discover?

“I thought you didn’t like kids,” the words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. No thought ran through him, only an action that he chastised himself for.

Asmo jumped ever so slightly and turned to face him. He seemed surprised to see Solomon there, more surprised than Solomon thought he should be. “What brought you to that conclusion?” he asked.

“Your reaction to the rabbits.”

“Ah well,” Asmo laughed slightly, “You still thought I was someone else then, and I’m not exactly capable of giving you children in that sense. I do love the little ones though, they’re the cutest little things.” Asmo poked the child’s nose earning a soft little giggle, “Aren’t you all?”

He stopped for a moment, scrunching up his brow before turning to Solomon, “What brought you here? You seemed… busy in your own little world.”

Oh, so he’d been ignoring him, and unfortunately Solomon knew it wasn’t the first time he’d been aware of this. He was just more aware of it than he’d like to be at the moment.

He cleared his throat before holding up the flower, “I had been curious about some of your plants and wanted to ask you a few questions, but I see that you’re busy right now.”

Solomon glanced at the rest of the children standing behind him and thought. He was curious about the game, and he hadn’t been giving his fiance much mind as of late. “Would you mind if I watched your game?”he asked.

It was fun to watch them play. The way the children interacted with the fifth prince was adorable to say the least. At some point, they’d managed to talk Solomon into playing. There was no better way to learn than to participate. He wasn’t great at it, but the children seemed to enjoy him fumbling about squealing with absolute delight. Asmo had even joined in, and oh Solomon had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed his laugh.

When it came time for the children to return to their families for lunch, Asmo led him into town to meet more of the locals. They showed him their wears and how they went about making their soothing lotions and sweet perfumes. To his surprise a few of them had also been magic users. They didn’t have strong magic, but it did help with relaxation, recreation, and with what plants the little town did have. In other words, it seemed like it could also be utilized for healing in the form of muscle relaxants or even helping in the production of certain medicines.

They all also seemed to enjoy Asmo.

This hadn’t been what he thought it would be at all. In fact, Solomon was enjoying their little date. Watching Asmo interact with the people of his sector was certainly more enjoyable than him trying too hard to impress him. Solomon liked this side of Asmo. He was relaxed and his eyes were soft and tender. There was a beauty about him that was being reflected outward.

For the first time, Solomon truly felt like he was getting a glance at his soul.

“Your majesty?” a young woman approached Asmo, violin in her hand, “Would you like music?”

Solomon wasn’t sure what possessed him to look up in that moment, but he realized how many eyes were on them. No. How many eyes were on him. Then he remembered. Asmo would be giving up his position in marrying him. That meant that Solomon would now have say over anything that happened. For the first time what that really meant hit Solomon. Asmo would no longer have control over his sector, and his people were worried. They didn’t know anything about Solomon, and neither did Asmo.

He wanted him to love him.

He wanted him to respect him.

Asmo was just as scared, and Solomon had been stupid enough to miss it all.

“On any other day that would be lovely my dear, but I’m afraid my-”

“You mentioned wanting to dance earlier,” Solomon cut in, bowing ever so slightly, “Consider this my apology for being so rude and ignoring you.”

Joy radiated from the prince. Solomon could feel his warmth buzzing all around them as they headed back to the center of town.

This didn’t mean Solomon was in love.

But this did mean that he was going to try harder.

He was going to give the prince what he deserved and show him that he didn’t need to worry.

Solomon would take care of things.

The music started up, the woman with the violin leading in a few other instruments as they joined hands. Solomon wasn’t a fantastic dancer, but it didn’t seem to matter to Asmodeus. It was such a simple want.

Ah. Yet how quickly a fairytale-esque picture can shatter.

Solomon didn’t even register hearing the whistle of the arrow as he pulled Asmodeus in close and it scraped his sleeve, barely missing his fiance.