#someone who i can have a nuanced conversation with

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ranmaru Main Story Chapter 6

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

(It's like my entire body's refusing to wake up.)

Part 1

My body and eyelids feel heavy.

But then, it came without mercy.

Ranmaru: "Hey, wake up."

(Ugh…)

Someone kept shaking me, clearly trying to wake me up.

With all that shaking, there was no way I could stay asleep.

Mai: "..........."

Ranmaru: "Morning, Lady Mai."

Mai: "..........."

(Maybe this is all just a dream.)

Ranmaru: "Hey, don't try to close your eyes again."

His beautiful face leaned in, and I instinctively furrowed my brows.

Mai: "Ranmaru, why are you here?"

Ranmaru: "Did you already forget?"

Ranmaru lifted his wrist and showed it to me.

(Ah…)

As if pulled along, my hand lifted too.

(I really wanted this to be a dream.)

The thing that firmly linked the two of us was the shackle we were bound with last night.

Ranmaru: "With this on, there's no way we can be apart."

Mai: "If we take it off, we can go our separate ways."

Ranmaru: "Can you swear, right here and now, that you won't try to run even if we take it off?"

Mai: "..........."

Ranmaru: "See? That's why it's a no."

With an exaggerated sigh, he swung our joined hands back and forth.

Ranmaru: "Anyway, we should probably wash up since we ended up falling asleep all sweaty after last night's game of tag."

(Wait—like this?!)

Mai: "A bath?!"

Mai: "I'm fine on my own. Why don't you just rest in the room?"

Ranmaru: "Thanks. But I wouldn't be able to relax knowing you're all alone and lonely."

(If we weren't in this situation, I might actually find those words sweet.)

Mai: "Look, seriously, just wait a minute—"

Ranmaru: "Yes, yes. You can complain after the bath."

He ignored my attempts to back away and tugged on our connected wrists.

(Ranmaru really is strong!)

I tried to resist, but in the end, he just dragged me along.

Ranmaru: "Feels refreshing, right? Aren't you glad you took a bath?"

Mai: "Yeah, I guess so."

(Honestly, I'm just relieved nothing bad happened.)

Before we bathed, he chained his own cuff to a nearby post and stepped outside, leaving me behind.

(Changing in and out of a kimono was a hassle, but I'd done similar things back when I was under surveillance.)

(Even being chained like this doesn't feel all that inconvenient.)

(Wait, no—what the hell am I thinking?! I shouldn't be getting used to being a prisoner in the first place!)

Just as I quietly clenched my fist, he turned to look back at me.

Ranmaru: "Starting today, you'll be sticking with me—wherever I go."

(Huh?)

Mai: "W-Why?"

Ranmaru: "It's because I have no intention of taking off your handcuffs."

Ranmaru: "Things might get a bit inconvenient, but that goes for both of us."

He gave the chain dangling between us a little tug, as if to say he wouldn't tolerate any objections.

(He really does plan to keep an eye on me 24/7.)

In other words, from today on, my chances of escaping are practically zero.

(If I could go back to yesterday, I'd do it all differently!)

Just like that, I began spending my days by Ranmaru's side.

Follower: "Lord Ranmaru! Do you have a moment?"

Ranmaru: "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

It seemed like even here, people relied on him.

(Maybe I can use this opportunity to gather even a little bit of information!)

I tried to casually listen in on their conversation—when suddenly...

Ranmaru: "Oh, right."

Mai: "Huh? Wah—"

He covered both my ears with his hands.

(I can't hear a thing.)

Ranmaru: "………."

His eyes seemed to say he could see right through everything I was thinking.

Then, on another night—

(Ranmaru's asleep, right?)

(Okay, now's my chance.)

I carefully reached for the handcuffs, making sure not to make a sound.

Ranmaru: "Alright, alright. It's bedtime, remember?"

Mai: "Pretending to be asleep is so mean!"

Ranmaru: "Look who's talking. Hey, isn't it time you gave up already?"

All I could do was grit my teeth at his exasperated look.

Every day, I felt like I was dancing in the palm of his hand.

Still, thanks to all this, I learned a few things.

I learned that Kennyo actually spoke more gently than I expected.

(Though he barely talks to me at all.)

I also realized that this place was actually a temple while I was wandering around the estate.

(Kennyo is a monk, so I guess that makes sense.)

(But still, something feels off.)

That vague sense of unease never quite took shape, and all I could do was tilt my head in confusion.

Then, one day—

Mai: "Looks like it's all clean now."

Ranmaru: "Yeah. It's already getting dark, so we should head back to our room."

It happened just as we finished sweeping the temple grounds and started putting the tools away.

???: "Huh? What are you two doing?"

(Who?)

I turned around, startled by the unfamiliar voice that suddenly cut in.

Motonari: "Well, well, you've got quite the taste."

The mysterious man glanced at our shackled wrists and let out a mocking laugh.

(It's not like this is some kind of fetish or anything.)

I wanted to deny it—but the moment I caught a glimpse of Ranmaru's expression, I froze.

Ranmaru: "…………"

(The mood shifted in an instant. Who the hell is this guy?)

As tension spiked, another man stepped out from behind the tan-skinned stranger.

Kicho: "So this is where you've chosen to build your base. Quite the remote location."

Kicho: "A rundown old temple. Perfect place to hide out."

(Something about this one feels different.)

Ranmaru: "What do you want?"

He stepped forward as if to shield me.

Motonari: "You know why we're here. We have business with the demon hiding out in this temple."

Motonari: "Hurry up and take us to him. He's here, yeah?"

Ranmaru: "..........."

Ranmaru gave a nod and turned toward the temple.

(What's going on?)

Still bound to him by the shackle, I had no choice but to follow.

Eventually, Ranmaru led us to a large hall.

Several followers sat in neat rows before Kennyo, quietly listening to him speak.

Ranmaru: "Lord Kennyo, you have visitors."

Kennyo: "I see."

With a glance from Kennyo, the followers stood and left the hall in silence.

Only after the room was empty did he finally speak.

Kennyo: "I figured you would come sooner or later."

Kennyo: "Motonari Mouri. And Kicho."

(Kicho?)

That second name sounded familiar.

(That's the one Mitsuhide mentioned—the one who attacked Azuchi Castle!)

The very person who had launched a cannon attack on Azuchi Castle now stood before Kennyo.

(All of them are Nobunaga's enemies.)

(And if this Motonari guy is working with Kicho, then he's probably not part of the Oda army either.)

Realizing I was deep in enemy territory, my entire body stiffened with tension.

Just then, Kicho glanced my way.

Kicho: "…………"

(W-What?)

He stared at me with a blank expression, freezing me like a frog under a snake's gaze.

Kicho: "Have we met somewhere before?"

Mai: "Somewhere?"

(Ah—)

------------Flashback-----------

Seamstress: "Look, that guy's so hot."

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "..........."

(Our eyes met.)

(There's something different about him—an aura that sets him apart from everyone else.)

(He stands out like Ranmaru, though in a totally different way.)

---------Flashback Ends--------

The memories I'd lost in a haze of tension suddenly came flooding back.

Kicho: "I thought so. Where have we met?"

Mai: "That's…"

Ranmaru: "She's from a nearby village."

(Ranmaru?)

He cut in smoothly, taking over the conversation before I could say anything.

Ranmaru: "Have you been around here before?"

Kicho: "No. Not even once."

Ranmaru: "Then, it must be a mix-up."

Motonari: "Huh? Then what's with the handcuffs?"

Motonari: "You don't exactly see people going about their day wearing stuff like that."

Ranmaru: "Well, you did say I had unique tastes, Lord Motonari. I figured maybe we were kindred spirits."

(R-Ranmaru?!)

Motonari: "Pfft. You serious?"

(That's not true at all!)

He scoffed, and my cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Kennyo: "Enough idle chatter. Let's get to the point."

The sharp voice that brought the room back to order belonged to Kennyo.

Kennyo: "Ranmaru, take the girl and leave. She's a distraction."

Ranmaru: "Yes, sir."

(I did want to hear the rest, but honestly, I was kind of glad for the interruption.)

Mai: "Hey, Ranmaru. Why did you hide who I really am?"

Ranmaru: "Those two are pretty intense."

Ranmaru: "If they found out you're a valuable hostage, things would get complicated."

Ranmaru: "And also…"

He trailed off, then gestured for me to sit without saying a word.

I did as he said, settling beside him, and he continued.

Ranmaru: "That guy you seemed to recognize—Kicho—was once part of the Oda army."

Ranmaru: "But I heard he vanished without a trace about three years ago."

(Wait.)

Mai: "So… he was one of your comrades?"

Mai: "Then why would he attack the castle? That's betrayal—"

(Ah.)

I stopped myself and looked at him.

He simply gave a crooked smile.

Ranmaru: "Yeah. Maybe he's the same as me."

Ranmaru: "He didn't just betray them—he had a reason to become their enemy."

Ranmaru: "From our side, betrayal is just what happens when you choose to follow your beliefs."

(I wonder if he has one, too—)

Something precious he's trying to protect or stay true to.

Mai: "Why are you guys trying to take Nobunaga's life?"

The thought that rose in my chest came out as a quiet question.

Ranmaru: "…………"

His beautiful face clouded with hesitation.

But then—

Ranmaru: "Would you be willing to listen to Lord Kennyo's story?"

He murmured, beginning to speak quietly.

Ranmaru: "Lord Kennyo was once the high priest of Ishiyama Hongan-ji."

Ranmaru: "He was a man respected by many—dignified, deeply faithful, and kind."

Ranmaru: "To him, Lord Nobunaga—who sought to unify the land through force—was an unforgivable enemy of the faith."

(So the conflict had started way back then.)

Knowing both Nobunaga and Kennyo, I could easily imagine why neither side was willing to back down.

Ranmaru: "Lord Kennyo tried to corner Lord Nobunaga by joining forces with other warlords and temples."

Ranmaru: "Even though he despised violence, he had no choice but to incite uprisings in order to fight back."

His eyes, which had been gazing into the distance, slowly returned to the present.

Ranmaru: "But all the warlords he had allied with were defeated, and even the Hongan-ji was destroyed."

Ranmaru: "Lord Kennyo went into hiding, waiting for the chance to take his revenge."

Ranmaru: "That revenge was meant to take place on the night we attacked Honnō-ji."

(So that means…)

Mai: "He kept hating Nobunaga even after the temple was destroyed—just because they'd been enemies from the start?"

Ranmaru: "No. It's not that simple."

He shook his head slowly, a trace of melancholy in his expression.

Ranmaru: "Deep down, Lord Kennyo genuinely wished things could've been resolved through dialogue—not violence."

Ranmaru: "That's why he agreed to meet when Lord Nobunaga proposed it."

Ranmaru: "But in the end, the talks fell through. From what I've heard, though, the two of them shared some similar ideals."

(Kennyo and Nobunaga both wanted to resolve things peacefully?)

Mai: "Then why didn't they just sign a truce?"

Ranmaru: "Because the Oda army chose to wipe us out instead."

Mai: "Wipe you out?"

The chilling words sent a shiver down my spine.

Ranmaru: "On the day of the next negotiation, Lord Nobunaga sent Kicho to us and threw down a severed arm—taken from one of our fellow followers—right in front of us."

(What?!)

Ranmaru: "Lord Kennyo lost all hope in the so-called Demon King after that. So he gathered his forces and attacked the Oda army."

Ranmaru: "The war raged on for about a year. Countless lives were lost, and as I said earlier, Hongan-ji was destroyed."

Resting his cheek on his knee, he looked away, his brows drawn in sorrow.

Ranmaru: "Everything he had cherished, protected, and held close was reduced to blood-soaked ashes."

Ranmaru: "It was like hell."

(Hell…)

His calm voice began to paint a scene that was far too horrific.

Ranmaru: "Inside the burning temple, it was so hot it felt like my skin was about to catch fire. Ash floated down like snow, and in the middle of it all, there were voices."

Ranmaru: "Women and little children were desperately chanting prayers."

Mai: "………"

I couldn't speak. It was too much.

(I don't think he's lying.)

(But I can't believe the Oda army did something so cruel.)

(I don't want to believe it.)

My chest tightened, as if the ground beneath me was giving way.

Ranmaru: "Well, I guess it's only natural to want revenge."

(Huh?)

His words felt strangely detached.

(It's like he's only speaking on Kennyo's behalf.)

Mai: "Hey, Ranmaru."

Mai: "Do you hate Nobunaga too? Do you really… want to kill him?"

Ranmaru: "Huh? Why are you asking me that?"

Mai: "Because—"

(Because after everything you told me about Kennyo, there's still one thing I don't know.)

Mai: "I want to know your real feelings."

Ranmaru: "…………"

A hint of bitterness crept into his otherwise quiet, unreadable expression.

(Just as I thought.)

Ranmaru has always been good at hiding what he really feels.

That's why, when I was taken hostage, I felt completely betrayed.

(But now I understand.)

(He's not perfect either.)

Mai: "Tell me, Ranmaru."

Mai: "Do you really want to kill Nobunaga?"

Ranmaru: "I do."

He smiled—soft and sudden, like a flower blooming.

(I knew it.)

Mai: "Liar."

Previous Part ╎ Next Part

[clumsypuppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[siryouarebeingmocked]

It’s not stereotypical to say white people enslaved Africans; it’s just a half-truth where the other half isn’t brought up until it’s in defense of someone’s racist actions, making people not want to believe it.

Personally, most of the people I see who bring it up are doing it to counter a factually inaccurate idea of race relations.

IMO, that's racism.

Also, I've bought it up lots of times to counter people who were spouting the mainstream, racist perception. And I'm a black non-American.

True facts don't become racist just because they're inconvienient, or because you think the other person has a racist reason for bringing them up.

Especially if those facts give a broader, more comprehensive, and therefore more accurate picture of the situation.

I feel like you're describing your own rationalizations here, but in a deflecting way.

But yes, it’s true, and maybe things have changed, but the knowledge that Africans sold other Africans is common, as in like, it’s taught in academies now.

And yet I still see more people claiming white folks "enslaved" Africans.

African people were decided upon and were stolen until a few tribe leaders started selling their own people. These sold slaves consisted of criminals, outcasts, poor people, or Africans from other tribes (if they didn’t want to give any from their own).

Hold up.

AFAIK, slavery had been going on in Africa for a long time before Europeans showed up. Including war slaves.

I feel like you're glossing over the part where Africans captured and enslaved other Africans. Up to and including active raids to capture slaves.

As to why African tribes sold their people? Well, it’s a mixture of fear and power struggle. Either the African kings and leaders were scared that their own family and friends would be captured and sold if they didn’t intervene, or they sold their people to gain artillery and weapons.

I've never heard the first reason given, ever.

Also, "trading with other people for stuff you want for an advantage" doesn't make them victims.

I also want to add that the guns given were either faulty and half-working, or worked just fine, but were outdated. That’s like if I gave someone a prototype and kept version 3 all to myself.

So they sold Africans the surplus guns that wouldn't sell to Europeans. That doesn't seem like a sinister plot, that seems like getting rid of old stock.

Also, I rarely see anyone give this level of nuance to the white people who bought slaves.

No one is going "gee, they had to get black slaves to work their colonial plantations! They had to be economically competitive!"

>Basically, yes, white people stole Africans, and yes, Africans sold other Africans to white people. Both statements are factual and can exist coherently.

So why do you describe Africans as just "selling" and say white people "stole"?

There was a lot more "stealing" going on by black people than white people, even by your own argument.

You can't even be objective in your basic descriptions.

>It’s not stereotypical to say whites enslaved African people; it’s just half of the picture, but still a fact.

Again, the statement usually implies white people alone enslaved black people, and leaves out who did the majority, assuming the speaker even knows most of it was black on black.

And I don't think most people do.

In most mainstream discourse, the role of black slavers is entirely ignored.

If white people are held responsible for something actually done by black people, that's racist and should be corrected, just like the converse.

So a black woman was released from jail five months after she was arrested for "abusing a corpse" because she had a miscarriage in a restaurant bathroom.

Her name is Mallori Patrice Strait, and she is 33 years old. This is her.

I distinctly recall raising concern that this would happen to women in anti-abortion states when this happened to Brittany Watts in Ohio and I distinctly recall pro-lifers saying this wouldn't not lead to women getting arrested for miscarriages.

It's also not lost on me that these two women are black, and pro-lifers spent years arguing that their policies were meant to "protect the black population."

While you all justify Adriana Smith's case in Georgia, I wanna hear the 'pro-life' explanation for this.

I want all the "protect black babies" people and the "abortion is black genocide" people to step forward.

I just want to talk.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[co27]

i guess my question is why DOES nuance immediately become looked down upon when it comes to that one webcomic

[widevibratobitch]

me when im obsessed with dead singers from 50 (well... mostly 70-120) years ago and im heartbroken to know i'll never see them on stage... never hear them breathe, never see them sweat, never even touch the hem of their garment...

it really is enough to drive a person mad...

[bonestrouslingbones]

the day that people stop taking DNIs so seriously and acting like anyone who has one is trying to force control over the entire internet and everyone who so much as looks at their posts ever is the day i will finally know peace

[guiltyandashamed]

headcannons: insecure about yourself after seeing someone else (brothers + side characters)

(2.7k words) It happens on one of those rare, quiet afternoons when the two of you are out in the Devildom, The conversation is easy. Until it isn’t. She passes you like she owns the street, tall, poised, beautiful in a way that feels otherworldly. A succubus, maybe, or a siren, or some other kind of woman with an enchanting beauty, with the kind of confidence you’ve never had. Her smile lingers on them for a second too long, and though they barely glance her way, your stomach sinks. You know it's irrational, but suddenly you're hyper aware of everything you're not. You laugh a little too quickly at his next joke. You nod without really hearing. You hide it well, at least, you think you do.

Lucifer

He catches the shift in you almost immediately. The falter in your tone, the way your gaze drops to the ground, hands suddenly too still. He’s attuned to subtle changes, he’s had to be, as the eldest, the one who notices when things go unspoken. And when he sees you look at that passing woman with something quiet and sharp in your eyes, it clicks. He doesn’t comment right away. Instead, he adjusts his pace so that you’re closer to his side. The back of his hand brushes yours.

“You know,” he says softly, “I’ve spent centuries surrounded by beings who try to manipulate attention. But I’ve never once been distracted from what I choose to keep close.” He pauses, turning his head to look at you. “And that’s you.”

Lucifer isn’t always good at emotional tenderness. But when he sees you shrinking into yourself, it rattles him more than he shows. He doesn’t press for explanation. He simply gives you his steadiness, his presence, and a hand that lingers a little longer when he reaches for yours.

Mammon

At first, he doesn’t get it. You go quiet, your smile fades a bit, but you’re still walking next to him, still laughing at his dumb jokes, just a little less like yourself. Then it hits him. He remembers the look you gave that other woman, the way your eyes followed her, then dropped away like you didn’t want to be caught comparing. Mammon isn’t the best with emotional nuance, but when it comes to you? He notices everything.

He panics a little internally. Did he say something wrong? Did someone look at you weird? Why’re you suddenly not smiling the way you usually do when you’re with him?

So he stops walking, right in the middle of the street. “Oi. What’s with the face?” he asks, softer than usual. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.” You try to wave it off, but he shakes his head. “Look, I don’t care who walks by. You think anyone else even exists when you’re around?” His voice cracks a bit from the sincerity. “You’re it, alright? You’re my favorite damn view.”

Then he grabs your hand and keeps walking like nothing happened, but his grip stays firm the rest of the way.

Leviathan

Levi doesn’t catch on at first. He’s too in his head, muttering about a limited-edition figurine he spotted in a shop window. But when he looks over and you’re not reacting like you normally would, he stumbles. “Did I… say something weird?” he asks, immediately assuming it’s his fault. Then he remembers her, the siren who walked past with all the self-assured grace he thinks he’ll never have. And he sees how you looked after her, the quick withdrawal into yourself. His stomach turns. He knows that feeling. He lives that feeling. Being second-best. Invisible. Not enough.

So he sidesteps his usual awkwardness. “Hey, um… if you’re feeling... y’know, weird or off or like, not... good enough or whatever... can I just say—that’s a total crit fail on your perception roll.” You blink, caught off guard, and he rushes on, red in the face. “You’re like... S-tier. I mean that. You’re the only one I feel like I can be this version of me around.” He offers you his sleeve to hold instead of his hand, because he’s still Levi. But the sentiment couldn’t be more real.

Satan

It’s a fleeting moment, but he sees it. The stillness in your expression after the woman passes, the way your voice flattens ever so slightly. You think you’re hiding it well, but Satan knows you too intimately not to notice the cracks. And what really cuts is how you don’t say anything. You just swallow it down like it’s not worth bringing up. He walks in silence for a beat, processing. Then, softly: “She wasn’t even half as radiant as you are when you talk about something you love.”

You glance at him, surprised, and he meets your gaze without flinching. “I know you won’t tell me what you’re thinking. But I want you to know... I saw it. And I see you.” He reaches for your hand, not to pull you along, but just to hold it in his own. “You don’t have to be louder, or flashier, or anything other than who you are when you’re with me.”

He doesn’t push the topic, doesn’t ask you to explain. He just slows down his pace, like he’s willing to match your mood and walk with it for however long it takes.

Asmodeus

He absolutely notices the woman. It’s hard not to, she’s practically dripping with seduction magic. But Asmo’s glance is automatic, casual, already forgotten… until he sees the way you tense beside him. You mask it well, but not to him. You go quiet. You stop making eye contact. His heart sinks. “Oh, darling,” he says, suddenly stopping short and turning to face you. “You felt that, didn’t you?”

He can feel the shift in your energy, the way you’re pulling into yourself. His voice gentles, loses the usual lilt. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough. Even I get insecure sometimes.” He offers a small, honest smile. “But when I look at you… there’s no one else I’d rather have beside me.”

Then he does something uncharacteristically quiet: he leans in, rests his forehead against yours, and whispers, “You’re beautiful. In ways she’ll never understand.”He doesn’t need you to say anything back. He just slips his arm around yours and holds on, tighter than before.

Beelzebub

He doesn’t notice the woman at all. He’s too focused on whether you’ve had enough to eat, if your shoes are comfortable, if you’re enjoying the walk. But he notices you, how your energy shifts, how your smile fades into something tight and practiced. You try to hide it, but Beel knows the rhythm of your emotions like he knows the beat of his own heart.

He slows his steps, gently bumping your shoulder. “You okay?” he asks, voice low and careful. You nod, of course. You always nod. He stares ahead for a while, chewing on the silence like it’s something hard to swallow.

“I don’t really care what anyone else looks like,” he says eventually. “I care about you. I care about how you laugh, and how you sit beside me even when I’m eating enough for five people. That means more than anything." Then, in that gentle, unwavering way of his, he takes your hand and carries the silence for you. No pressure. No expectations. Just warmth. Just Beel, anchoring you when you start to drift.

Belphegor

He sees her. He sees you seeing her. And he sees you instantly pull away from him in that quiet, invisible way: how your hand doesn’t quite brush his anymore, how your expression dulls like you’ve slipped into some private shadow you don’t want to name.

Belphie gets angry about it, not at you, but at the world that made you feel like you had to compare. That made you feel like less. His hand finds yours again, firmly. “You thinking dumb shit again?” he murmurs, voice heavy with sleep and something else… something protective.

You try to brush it off, but he doesn’t let go. “You’re not allowed to hate yourself around me,” he says simply. “That’s the rule.” He tugs you just a little closer, leaning his head on your shoulder as you walk. “If you’re gonna shut down, I’m still staying right here. Might even take a nap standing up just to prove a point.” It’s his way of saying: I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.

Diavolo

He notices the other woman, sure, but only because your hand suddenly feels smaller in his, your steps a little slower. You don't say anything, but Diavolo's joy dims as he watches you retreat into yourself. He’s not oblivious. His life has been full of people trying to catch his eye, but yours is the presence he’s grown to crave.

“Hey,” he says gently, stopping the both of you. “Look at me.” When you do, reluctantly, quietly, he leans down a bit to meet your gaze. “There is no spell, no charm, no allure that compares to you.” His tone is softer than usual, reverent even. “Do you think I fell for you because of some illusion? I’ve ruled a kingdom for centuries. I’ve seen beauty in a thousand forms. But no one has ever made me laugh the way you do. Or made me feel understood.”

He brushes a hand against your cheek with heartbreaking gentleness. “You don’t have to say what you’re thinking. Just… let me remind you of who you are to me.” He tucks your hand into his arm like it belongs there and walks on, making the whole Devildom feel like it orbits around you.

Barbatos

He senses the change in your mood before you even feel it fully. Your steps become measured, your energy tight. Barbatos is deeply attuned to the unspoken, and though he notices the woman too, he’s far more focused on how you subtly retreat into yourself. He doesn’t draw attention to it immediately. He simply shifts his body closer to yours, not pressing but present.

Then, after a quiet beat, he speaks. “It’s interesting, isn’t it?” he muses aloud. “How easily we mistake someone else’s flash for our own dimness.” You glance at him, startled, but he offers only a small, knowing smile.

“You shine differently. Not loudly. Not demanding. But with depth. Grace. Thoughtfulness. Anyone can catch the eye, but not everyone holds the heart.” Barbatos pauses, as though considering time itself. “And you hold mine.”

He doesn’t say much more, he rarely needs to. But when he offers you his arm again, you feel the strength of it, a quiet anchor reminding you: he chose you. And he always would.

Solomon

He notices everything, the woman, your reaction, the subtle shift in your posture. You’re trying so hard to hide it, but he knows the signs. He’s been around long enough to see that kind of pain wear grooves into people.

He doesn’t call it out directly. Instead, he tilts his head and says, “You know, I’ve met sirens who could stop armies with a single glance. But not one of them has ever made me want to stay.” He lets that hang in the air for a moment before adding, “You do.”

When you blink, unsure how to respond, he offers a rare, genuine smile, less teasing, more honest. “You’ve got a stubborn light in you. The kind that doesn’t need to scream to be felt. That’s what caught me.”

He’ll nudge your hand, light against his own, as if offering you the choice: speak or stay silent. Either way, he’s not going anywhere. “Come on,” he says, softer now. “Let’s go somewhere quieter. Just us.”

Simeon

He notices, not just the other woman, but the way you go quiet. How you withdraw without a word, folding into yourself like a page creased by habit. His heart aches, not just for your sadness but for the effort you make to hide it.

He slows his pace to match yours, letting the quiet settle before saying, “There’s a kind of beauty no glamour can touch.” You glance at him, unsure whether to brush it off. He offers you a gentle smile, the kind that makes it feel like the sun’s peeking through your clouds.

“I’ve lived among angels, watched starlight bloom in the Celestial Realm… but none of it has ever made me feel the way I do when I see you.” His words are soft, unflinching. “And I see you. Even when you try to disappear.”

Then, without asking, he loops his pinky with yours, quietly grounding, quietly sincere. “You don’t need to say anything. But I’m here. Always.”

Mephistopheles

He doesn’t notice right away, too busy monologuing about something minor and theatrical, until you suddenly stop contributing. It takes a few seconds for the silence to register, and then he glances at you. Your face is neutral. Too neutral. “Oi,” he mutters, nudging your side. “Where’d you go just now?”

You give him a practiced smile. It’s almost enough to fool him. He follows your gaze, sees the woman walking away, and instantly connects the dots. His jaw clenches, not out of jealousy, but fury at the self-doubt flickering in your eyes. “Pfft,” he scoffs, too loud on purpose. “Overdressed and underwhelming. Wouldn’t last a second in a real conversation. You? You could destroy me with one look, and that’s before you’ve had your morning tea.”

He says it like a joke, but his eyes betray the sincerity. “Next time your thoughts try to trick you like that… just tell them to shut up. Or let me do it for you.” Then he threads your arm through his dramatically. “Now come along, my love. You’ve got a face worth showing off.”

Thirteen

Thirteen clocks the siren in an instant, and rolls her eyes so hard it’s a wonder they stay in her skull. But when she looks back at you and sees the way you’ve suddenly gone quiet, the light dimmed in your expression, she stops dead in her tracks. “Hey. Don’t do that.”

You blink at her, startled. “Do what?” She squints at you, then squints harder. “That thing where you act like you're fine but you’re actually spiraling over some glittery bitch who couldn’t outsmart a single one of my traps.” You try to brush her off, but she doesn’t let you.

“Seriously,” she mutters, moving to stand in front of you. “I’ve seen you face down demons, chaos, me—and that’s what gets you? That?” She jerks her thumb back toward the siren. Then, more softly, “You don’t see it, but you level me. Every time you laugh. Every time you keep showing up.” She nudges you with her elbow. “You don’t gotta talk. Just… don’t disappear, okay?” Then she throws her arm around your shoulder and grins. “Let’s go cause trouble. Hot people like us can get away with anything.”

Raphael

He notices the subtle shift immediately, your quiet withdrawal, the way your gaze drops when the other woman passes by. He’s always been keen on observing the small details, and this one pulls at something deeper in him. Raphael rarely speaks out of turn, preferring to keep his thoughts measured and precise, but when he senses your mood darkening, he allows himself to be a little more direct. “Is something troubling you?” His voice is calm, steady—a gentle anchor in the swirling discomfort you feel.

You try to brush it off, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he stays close, matching his pace to yours as you walk. “You often doubt yourself,” he says quietly, “but I see strength in you that you don’t even realize you have.”

He pauses, looking at you with unshaken sincerity. “The world might throw illusions of beauty your way, but what matters most isn’t what you show on the surface. It’s the kindness you carry, the care you give, the healing you inspire. Those things don’t fade, no matter who passes by.”

Raphael offers you a small, rare smile, not the serene healer’s smile, but a warmer one meant only for you. “You are more than enough. And I am here, always ready to remind you of that.”

[were--ralph]

why exactly do you dislike generative art so much? i know its been misused by some folks, but like, why blame a tool because it gets used by shitty people? Why not just... blame the people who are shitty? I mean this in genuinely good faith, you seem like a pretty nice guy normally, but i guess it just makes me confused how... severe? your reactions are sometimes to it. There's a lot of nuance to conversation about it, and by folks a lot smarter than I (I suggest checking out the Are We Art Yet or "AWAY" group! They've got a lot on their page about the ethical use of Image generation software by individuals, and it really helped explain some things I was confused about). I know on my end, it made me think about why I personally was so reactive about Who was allowed to make art and How/Why. Again, all this in good faith, and I'm not asking you to like, Explain yourself or anything- If you just read this and decide to delete it instead of answering, all good! I just hope maybe you'll look into *why* some people advocate for generative software as strongly as they do, and listen to what they have to say about things -🦜

if Ai genuinely generated its own content I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it, however what Ai currently does is scrape other people's art, collect it, and then build something based off of others stolen works without crediting them. It's like. stealing other peoples art, mashing it together, then saying "this is mine i can not only profit of it but i can use it to cut costs in other industries.

this is more evident by people not "making" art but instead using prompts. Its like going to McDonalds and saying "Burger. Big, Juicy, etc, etc" then instead of a worker making the burger it uses an algorithm to build a burger based off of several restaurant's recepies.

example

the left is AI art, the right is one of the artists (Lindong) who it pulled the art style from. it's literally mass producing someone's artstyle by taking their art then using an algorithm to rebuild it in any context. this is even more apparent when you see ai art also tries to recreate artists watermarks and generally blends them together making it unintelligible.

Aside from that theres a lot of other ethical problems with it including generating pretty awful content, including but not limited to cp. It also uses a lot of processing power and apparently water? I haven't caught up on the newer developements i've been depressed about it tbh

Then aside from those, studios are leaning towards Ai generation to replace having to pay people. I've seen professional voice actors complain on twitter that they haven't gotten as much work since ai voice generation started, artists are being cut down and replaced by ai art then having the remaining artists fix any errors in the ai art.

Even beyond those things are the potential for misinformation. Here's an experiment: Which of these two are ai generated?

ready?

These two are both entirely ai generated. I have no idea if they're real people, but in a few months you could ai generate a Biden sex scandal, you could generate politics in whatever situation you want, you can generate popular streamers nude, whatever. and worse yet is ai generated video is already being developed and it doesn't look bad.

I posted on this already but as of right now it only needs one clear frame of a body and it can generate motion. yeah there are issues but it's been like two years since ai development started being taken seriously and we've gotten to this point already. within another two years it'll be close to perfected. There was even tests done with tiktokers and it works. it just fucking works.

There is genuinely not one upside to ai art. at all. it's theft, it's harming peoples lives, its harming the environment, its cutting jobs back and hurting the economy, it's invading peoples privacy, its making pedophilia accessible, and more. it's a plague and there's no vaccine for it. And all because people don't want to take a year to learn anatomy.

[athenas-only-daughter]

Haunting the Canvas - The Clea Post

spurred on by conversations I've been having with @linka-from-captain-planet, I'm collecting the info we've been able to gather about Clea here, under a read-more for spoilers, because if you run around act 3, there's actually QUITE a bit to glean about her.

This is gonna be a living/edited post as we find more info! Pls let me know if you guys see anything that's missing, find out new info, etc!

Truly as soon as you get to act three, you can't go three feet without bumping into a sidequest that has to do with Clea in some regard. She is HAUNTING the canvas almost as much as real!Verso and she's not even dead.

First and foremost, The Fading Woman is often Clea! Sometimes it's Aline (if she's sad, it's Aline) but especially in act 3 it's Clea. Particularly at the Endless Tower location. If you want to glean more about Clea, I recommend talking to the fading woman when you see her, particularly as Maelle.

Clea is the eldest sibling, this is made plain during Maelle's companion quest at The Reacher

Also in this quest Maelle implies that Clea is Renoir's favorite. Verso disputes this, saying Alicia was his favorite child. However, earlier in a conversation with Lune, Verso says Clea was Renoir's favorite. Seems like there's some nuance here!

Clea has her own axon! If you were like 'hey Renoir made Axons for the rest of his family, where is Clea's?' it's easy to miss but it's the Axon in old Lumiere that's already dead (more on this later)

Clea's Axon seems to be called 'The Hauler' and is carrying part of the world on its back (incredibly on brand Eldest Daughter Shit)

Aline also painted a version of Clea - she is no longer with the painted family and is now trapped in the Flying Manor location by Clea herself.

Clea seemed to not like the portrait Aline painted of her, or at the very least resents her parents trying to portray her in the canvas full stop (she also dislikes the Axon). This led to Clea painting over her mother's version of her and leaving her in the painting to continue her work of making Nevrons.

We know Clea is making the Nevrons thanks to dialogue in the Fountain and Flying Manor quests, as well as Clea's dialogue to Maelle before act 3 AND dialogue with the Fading Woman in the Endless Tower.

The only Nevrons that are NOT Clea's are the ones on the Axon Islands, those are Renoir's.

On that note, why is Clea making Nevrons? she's using them to stop the chroma from returning to her mother when the painted citizens die, hoping to speed along her parents' conflict and then end this once and for all.

Also on this note! Clea is also making the painted WHITE Nevrons that we see and help. I'm still not 100% sure why, but we find this out by talking to Blanche during the Fountain quest, who has the special task of killing all of Clea's failed Nevrons, because god forbid someone see she made a mistake (perfectionist eldest daughter Clea Dessendre I am studying you sooo closely)

Painted Clea had a romance! with a painted lumiere citizen named Simon (he can be fought by reaching the Abyss in Renoir's Drafts)

Real!Clea apparently shared none of her painted counterpart's affections because she tricked him by pretending to be painted!Clea and gave him enough power so he could kill her Axon (also through trickery).

Has entered the painting several times since the start of Aline and Renoir's conflict. Notably to make Nevrons, capture her painted counterpart, trick Simon, but also she met Expedition 00 at the barrier and told them everything. Then tried to kill them when they wouldn’t leave. She also came in and tried to recruit Verso at one point.

Her final time in the canvas, that we know of, was when she came in 16 years ago and told him to watch over Alicia/Maelle.

Clea thinks its safer for Alicia to be in the Canvas, away from the war.

On that note, there's a war! Clea is apparently fighting a war against the Writers near singlehandedly. Renoir calls this her 'solitary war' and Alicia/Maelle says she 'took Verso's death personally', so it seems she's seeking revenge.

Clea is noted by both Alicia/Maelle and painted!Verso as being the most talented painter of the three of them

Also plays the harp!

There's a record you can unlock play at camp called "Clea! Don't Pull Your Sister's Hair!"

Clea seems to have stopped playing in the Canvas well before either of her siblings - Francois is mentioned as missing her for over a hundred years, well before the fracture.

Francois and Clea used to sing together!

Much of the original canvas was made my Verso and Clea together. In the Endless Tower, the Fading Woman (Clea, here) says that she "spent far more time" in the canvas than Alicia and that she painted "half this world with Verso"

Despite this, Clea does not share her family's same fixation on it and seems to dislike their meddling with it - her mother's painted creations, her father's axons, etc. She does not consider the painting 'real', but "was perfectly fine to leave Maman here to work on her sorrows", and says it's Alicia's choice if she stays. She seems equally dismissive of her parents, saying that Aline "doesn't want help" and Renoir is "wasting time" when she needs his help.

There's a Fading Boy and another fragment of Clea in Fading Leaves. The Clea fragment has been erasing things from the canvas, 'out of respect for him, his creations and the things they made together'. We can infer she's talking about Verso here. The Fading Boy (remember, a fragment of Verso's soul) seems to be disheartened by this.

ETA: In the Painting Workshop, the Fading Boy talks to you about both real!Clea and Painted!Clea. It's hard to parse which is which but it seems like Real!Clea might have made the Lampmaster specifically to spook Verso, maybe when they were kids? The Fading Boy implies that he told Clea he was scared of the dark and she made him the world's most haunted nightlight (sisters amiright?)

Additionally, he mentions 'jealousy' so it seems Clea was, at times, jealous of Verso. This tracks with her being the most talented painter of the 3 but overlooked for her brother and also with something the Fading Boy says at the start of the flying manor that seems to be about Clea (not sure whether real or painted): "Everything is always about her. Her paintings, her sculptures. Everything has to be perfect, but perfect I have never been"

ETA: In Old Lumiere, the Fading Man (Renoir) seems to have some interesting things to say about 'she who painted nevrons' aka Clea: "She wasn't scared of death itself. / She was sad because there are more works of art than she'd ever be able to see in her lifetime. / So many fables from around the world that she'd never be able to collect. To bring her life in her workshop. / All the beauty in the world she'd never get to experience. That saddened her."

He also says that Clea "loved to challenge him" and that they were "the most alike"

ETA: At the Forgotten Battlefield, there's a Clea Fading Woman who asks Maelle if she can help and when Maelle is confused, says "I guess not. Pity. I'd hoped to return to more important matters. But instead I must occupy my time with... this." She then tells Maelle to "Go and play with your friends. I'll handle this."

[relicsongmel]

Iris, Miles, and their mutual "secret"

The Ace Attorney fandom is no stranger to discussions of homoerotic subtext in the game's script—pretty much everyone who's spent more than five seconds here will be able to tell you that. Screenshots of lines that imply romantic tension between same-gender characters are all over the place, to the point that many fans are drawn to the series purely by its reputation as "the gay lawyer game." Some scenes are more well-known than others, but one I find brought up fairly regularly is this conversation between Miles and Iris:

This is optional dialogue that can be triggered by presenting incorrect evidence on Iris' Psyche-Lock during the Investigation portion of Bridge to the Turnabout. The argument here is that the "secret" Iris is referring to is the same as her own: that being, a romantic interest in Phoenix Wright. Which is definitely hilarious when you consider that Iris has known Miles for less than a day and she's already reading him for filth (granted, she could have been clued in by the similarly infamous "indispensable friend" line, and she's also exceptionally good at reading people despite Miles thinking otherwise). As a Narumitsu shipper myself I am not immune to enjoying that interpretation; however, I feel like there's a lot of nuance in this scene that isn't often addressed by the fandom at large. Which is unfortunate because watering it down to just Iris calling out Miles for being the gayass he is (to be fair. she's not wrong) does a MASSIVE disservice to both of their characters, and I'll explain why.

My bone to pick with the usual analysis of this scene is mostly centered around the larger conversation to be had regarding the treatment of female characters in fandom spaces. All too often they tend to play second fiddle to the male characters, and a similar principle holds true for ships with their canonical male love interests: mostly ignored in favor of the the more popular M/M ship(s). At best these women are sidelined, at worse they are flattened into wingmen for the boys (as is frequently the case with many AA girls and Narumitsu, Iris included), and at the absolute worst they are demonized for their perceived "competition" with whatever gay ship is most popular and therefore the Only Valid One for the male characters involved (as exemplified by some very "passionate" fans that I generally try to avoid interacting with). Whenever this scene gets brought up, the focus is almost always exclusively on Miles and what the interaction says about his relationship with Phoenix; Iris is only relevant insofar as she's the one initiating Miles' Homosexual Moment™—you could replace her with almost any other character and there'd be a similar level of neglect for their role in the interaction. Only very rarely will you see attention given to what Iris' question about Miles' secret means when she is the one asking it, and what it can tell us about her relationship with Miles/what she thinks of him, and vice versa (absolutely wild how even Miles himself is often flanderized despite being the fandom's golden child). It's all too characteristic of the systemic misogyny that has plagued fandom since its inception, which is deeply frustrating to me as someone who adores Iris as much as I do (if that wasn't obvious by now). So that said, let's dive deeper into what I think the missing link is here: namely, the Iris-Miles dynamic as it pertains to their relation to Phoenix.

Iris and Miles is one of my favorite relationships to explore in the whole series—but as I've described above, unfortunately a lot of people get it wrong in my opinion. Discussion about the two is frequently centered around Narumitsu Love Drama—which is a conversation worth having, don't get me wrong—but the elements at play there aren't always represented the way I envision them, which again, is frustrating. Take the idea of potential jealousy, for instance: it's pretty standard love triangle fare that can be (and often is) quickly turned into demonization when it's used in a shipping context, character assassination be damned (re: Narumitsu fanfic authors that project their personal dislike of Feenris onto Miles via his jealousy of Iris and/or how they tend to portray Iris unfavorably). However, it's not inherently a bad thing to explore: personally, I do believe that there is mutual jealousy between the two of them. Miles might not have the full context of Iris' history when this conversation takes place, but he's emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on what Iris means to Phoenix, and vice versa. And him being a jealous hoe about it isn't out of the question when you consider that he's a bit of a loner by nature and doesn't have many close friends or outlets for socialization outside of his job. The crucial element that's sometimes missed, though, is that Miles not only lacks the self-awareness to realize he's a jealous hoe...he's also a self-sabotaging jealous hoe.

And the same can be said for Iris, who is similarly introverted and doesn't often leave her home at Hazakura Temple.

The whole reason Miles is peering into Iris' heart in the first place can be found in this exchange, after he breaks her Psyche-Lock:

Miles uses the Magatama in order to gain the answers he needs to bring the truth to light and get Iris acquitted, and he does so for the express purpose of reuniting her with Phoenix so they can find closure—in fact, he reiterates this to her multiple times. He obviously recognizes how Phoenix is suffering from what happened between them (I'd argue he sympathizes with Iris' plight as well) and has resolved to do what he can to help him heal, but there's no reason for him to be so insistent that she rectify things with Phoenix when it does nothing but harm his own chances with him. Unless, of course...that's the whole point.

To convince Iris to reveal her secret so he doesn't have to face his own, because he thinks himself undeserving.

And Iris, noticing this because she empathizes with that feeling of unworthiness, calls him out on it in an almost uncharacteristically forward manner when she asks him what he's hiding.

Takes one to know one, indeed.

Iris highly respects Miles for taking on her defense despite the risk to his job as a prosecutor. She's willing to trust him after hearing he's a friend of Phoenix, hearing him out and letting him reason with her. She still keeps her cards close to her chest in some regards, but she's more honest with him than she's been with anyone else in her life apart from her sister. She sees his commitment to the truth and how it starkly contrasts with how she's lived her life to this point, and thinks that this is the type of partner Phoenix deserves—not someone like her, who only knows how to survive using lies and deception. She sees so much strength in him but still recognizes the insecurity lurking beneath his tenacity, which is why when he falters in his logic, she takes a leap of faith and gives him one last chance to examine his reasons for pushing the burden of his unspoken affections onto her, as if to say: "Look in the mirror. Is this really for me? Or is it for you? Do you really seek the truth for its own sake, or do you merely hope to find one truth so you might run from another?"

Her question to Miles is a gamble—a coin flip of self-sacrifice. If she loses and he presses on, she has to face the secret within her heart she's been suppressing for five years. But if she wins and he gives in to the truth in his, she has to live the rest of her life watching it unfold and knowing she threw away her chance to finally stop living in fear of her own love.

Either way, there's no escaping heartache for her anymore.

Miles and Iris both want what's best for Phoenix and prioritize their vision of his feelings over their own. However, they are also both deeply emotionally repressed people who find difficulty in being direct with their feelings, and are predisposed to self-sabotage due to childhood trauma. These tendencies may manifest in different ways for both of them, but the fact remains that such people would likely not compete for a person's affection in the traditional sense, which is exactly what we see with how Iris and Miles deflect their feelings for Phoenix. These selfless, lovestruck idiots toss that man around like a game of hot-potato because their mutual self-hatred for the ways they've harmed him has rendered them terrified of the reality of what he means to them, and desperate to find a way out of admitting to it. It's the most compelling explanation I can think of for why the usually unassuming Iris makes such a bold judgment about what Miles might be keeping locked away, and why Miles goes to such lengths to make sure she talks to Phoenix and tells him the truth—his agreement to defend her was conditional on that exact promise. They go through this whole song-and-dance of playing wingman to ignore their own feelings while still trying to bring Phoenix the happiness they think he deserves—and then they wonder why seeing Phoenix give the other one attention burns them up inside.

Because they’re dumb. And I love them.

TL;DR the Iris Psyche-Lock scene in BttT is so much more than just "haha Miles gay" and I wish people talked about it more. Also Iris and Miles are way more similar than they appear at first glance and if I think about it for too long it makes me physically ill thank you for coming to my TED talk

[unsolicited-opinions]

Truthiness in a Keffiyeh

A conversation in the replies about the Gen Z folks who relentlessly try to cram a complex world into the oppressor/victim framing, regardless of facts, reasoning, history, context, or nuance made me time travel 20 years back.

@bluecityrose writes:

There’s also a sense [which we perceive in the Gen Z anti-Israel leftists] that knowledge of the conflict, its history and nuance, doesn’t matter.  

I’ve had many conversations where people know nothing of the history of Jews and Arabs in the Levant, or how many of those countries were formed, or what Hamas really is, or what Israel is really like, or the role of other countries in the region.

They are surprised by everything I say.  

At some point I ask them - why do you feel comfortable having such strong opinions about a highly complex situation when you know so little about it? Would you make such confident statements about conflicts in other countries you are unfamiliar with?

Agreed! I think their anti-Israel drive has virtually nothing to do with facts, principals, or reasoning. It's serving their emotional needs.

Then @doomhamster put their finger on it:

I agree. I think it's about the...almost fetishization of "emotional truth" and experience. 

Saying you understand what someone else is going through when you don't have their exact mix of identities gets you ripped apart [by other leftists, but] saying you understand a chain of events when you don't know shit about it is just fine though, in most people's eyes, because that's "just" facts. They can be bent and twisted freely to serve what they FEEL is true.

I'm showing my age here, but isn't that Truthiness?

If you weren't alive or watching late night comedy in 2005, let me catch you up:

Truthiness was first introduced by Stephen Colbert on the premiere episode of The Colbert Report on October 17, 2005. Colbert did every episode of this show in character as as a right wing talking head pundit like like Fox News' Bill O'Reilly (who was later replaced by Tucker Carlson). His characer was a satire of right wing punditry. Here's the segment:

Truthiness is the belief in something that feels true in one's gut, regardless of evidence, logic, or facts. 

Facts take a back seat to feelings, vibes, and baseless moral certainty. It's truth because it feels true...regardless of its falsity.

if you look around the media and politics environment today...it seems clear that Truthiness now rules most of the political spectrum.

The right is still awful about this, but now the far left is, too.

The Gen Z leftists (particularly the tankies, but it's all of them) have taken their foreign policy and geopolitical ideologies based on feelings, vibes, and and whatever makes them feel righteous.

Feeling righteous is important because it permits them to vent that righteousness with impunity, with no criticism from their contemporaaries no matter how false, bigotted, or violent it is. Because when you're up against the ultimate evil (the Jews/Israel), all things are permitted. And it feels so good to have a license to hate!

It's not about the real people who are dying, it's about maintaining that sense of righteousness.

They don't need to read a book about the history of the middle east because they saw an infographic on Instagram which appealed to their emotional needs...and all the fandoms they're in agree, so they must be good people!

They don't have to deal with the pressure of needing to know anything because moral clarity is delivered to them, algorithmically optimized for outrage and completely free of any confusing complexity. Real people are dying, but all they care about is feeling righteous.

Truthiness doesn't demand research or reasoning, just retweets/reblogs/reshares.

For fuck's sake, children.

"Love with your heart, use your head for everything else."

-Captain Disillusion

[ducksido]

I've been loving how you've written all of my requests so far. I love your writing in general so that isn't really a surprise. Well, onto my request. Could you do the Housewardens with a s/o who has a stutter? It usually isn't noticeable but sometimes it gets really bad, bad enough that it gets frustrating to communicate. Also the reader(s/o) gets embarrassed over the stutter due to some people making fun of them when they had to present in front of the class before.

-🥀🪻

(of course 🥀🪻)

Housewardens with Yuu who has a stutter

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle isn’t quite sure how to respond—he's not used to emotional nuance thanks to his strict upbringing.

But he listens. Listens intently. When you get stuck mid-sentence, he doesn’t rush you. He lets the silence stretch without pressure, a quiet signal of: I’m here. Take your time.

After learning about your classroom experience, he gets visibly upset—not at you, but at the people who made fun of you. “You were brave enough to speak. They didn’t deserve to hear you.”

He studies up on speech therapy techniques and gently asks if you’d be okay with a hand signal system—like you squeezing his hand when you’re too frustrated to continue, so he can read the room for you.

If you're ever in a class presentation again, he’ll stand in the crowd, meeting your eyes the whole time, anchoring you with nods of encouragement.

Leona Kingscholar

His first instinct? "Who the hell made fun of you?" Yeah, someone’s getting buried in the sandpit outside Savannaclaw.

He’s laid-back enough to not pressure you when you’re struggling to speak—he’ll just raise an eyebrow, smirk a little, and go: “Tch. I got time. No one says it like you do anyway.”

If you get upset or start shutting down, he won't go all mushy—he knows you hate feeling pitied—but he’ll bump your shoulder, mumble: “You don’t gotta be perfect to make me listen.”

Leona will be your unshakable wall. If anyone dares laugh again, one glare from him and the room goes dead silent.

Azul Ashengrotto

Internally? Panic. Externally? Calm and courteous. He's terrified of saying the wrong thing, especially given his own trauma with bullying.

He understands. Oh, he gets it. You remind him of himself—polished on the surface, but vulnerable in moments of exposure.

When you stutter, he subtly slows his own speech to match your pace, making it feel less awkward. You don’t even notice at first—it’s just suddenly easier to talk to him.

One day, when you’re particularly embarrassed after tripping over your words, he gently reaches over and takes your hand. “I used to dread speaking too. But every word you say is worth hearing—even the ones that need a moment.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Pure sunshine. Doesn’t even notice the stutter at first—he’s too focused on your smile, your ideas, your energy.

But when he sees you frustrated or pulling away from conversations, he gently asks, “Hey, are you okay? Did I talk too fast?”

You explain your stutter, and he immediately hugs you. “That’s okay! That’s just how your words dance a little before they come out!”

You can’t even stay embarrassed around Kalim—he celebrates every time you speak. “Yes!! I love when you tell stories! Even the way you say things is fun!”

If you’re having a bad day, he’ll offer to speak for you if needed—no judgment, just support.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is hyper-aware of how you carry yourself. The first time he sees you recoil mid-sentence out of embarrassment, he’s already dissecting the entire situation.

“Someone made you feel ashamed. Unacceptable.”

He never interrupts your stutter—not once. His patience is calm, dignified, and never patronizing. If you apologize, he cuts you off with a firm but gentle, “You are not flawed. You are human. And I admire that about you.”

Vil even works with you on breathing techniques—not to fix you, but to help you feel more confident. He adapts some stage projection tricks to your comfort.

If someone mocks you, Vil absolutely eviscerates them with a cold, cutting line that makes them rethink their life.

Idia Shroud

Idia is so anxious around speech in general. He stutters himself, so when he realizes you do too, he’s like: “Wait… you mean… I’m not the only glitching NPC in the cutscene?”

He's instantly more comfortable with you than anyone else. Conversations are awkward, yes, but real. Soft. Shared.

When your stutter gets bad, he doesn’t even blink—just continues typing on his tablet, then flashes it at you: [“No worries. Wanna just chill in silence or type today?”]

If you cry out of frustration, he panics and offers you snacks, games, a blanket, and then just shyly says: “I-I like your voice… It sounds like you’re casting a spell when you talk... like real magic.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is unbothered. The idea of mocking someone for their speech is so beneath him he can’t comprehend it.

When you stutter, he tilts his head and patiently waits, giving you space like a quiet glade in the woods.

If you get upset or try to hide it, he places a hand over yours, warm and grounding. “Child of man… Do not be ashamed. Each pause is a breath of your soul. Let it speak.”

He never makes you feel like you have to perform for him. Silence or speech, you’re cherished either way.

If someone mocks you in his presence? Oh, dear. Malleus may not react loudly, but the drop in temperature and faint green flicker of flame in his eyes sends a very clear message.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

How can I answer my child's (probably soon) question of "what is sex?"? The standard answer I've been taught (If a man and a woman love eachother very much) is so off base. Like sure, that can be the case, but sex can be casual, doesn't need a commitment or romantic feelings, can involve multiple partners, obviously identities and sexualities can be whatever two consenting adults/informed adolecents want it to be... but it also kinda feels weird to answer that with just a full on lecture when for them it's a question like any other

hi anon,

god, this is one of my favorite questions! I love sex ed with kids - it's such a privilege to get to help shape how they'll think about these things as they grow! - and I loooove getting to see parents who don't want to give their kids the same unhelpful bullshit :)

the answer varies a lot depending on age; for the youngest kids, I promise it is okay to leave it at "that's something adults do together with their bodies, because it can be fun and feel nice" - we can add the nuance that sometimes teenagers have sex to the conversation later, because really little kids are unlikely to care. if they're curious about WHY adults do this mysterious activity together, or what's nice about it, it's okay to give your precocious squirt a little more insight! many kids discover masturbation at a young age, and it's alright to acknowledge that touching genitals can feel good and be fun to do as long as it's happening at appropriate times and places. (I've always been fond of this article on the topic.) it's a great way to practice naming body parts, normalize sexual pleasure and bodily exploration, and emphasize that while touching your own body alone in privacy can be fun, it's not okay to touch others or for others to touch you without your consent and that safe adults should always be informed if someone is touching the child in unwanted ways. you're right that it doesn't need to be a lecture; if they don't have any further curiosity after the initial answer, drop it!

if the kids are a little older, they may want to really get into it - I find my 4th-6th kids usually have some vague ideas about how sex works and will have questions accordingly. I've had to field questions about why someone would want to put a penis in their mouth (and how to avoid pee while doing so), explain what a harem is (thanks, Hamilton), and keep from cringing when the kids joked about someone ejaculating on someone else's face (jesus christ). they know things, and the best approach is to just meet them where they're at to answer their questions and gently challenge and correct misconceptions that they may have. here, the answer to "what is sex?" can expand tremendously, complete with conversations about how and when someone might be able to decide that they're ready to be sexually intimate with other people (and how to do so safely). kids at this age are opinionated, curious, and getting really good at rotating complex concepts around in their brains, so if they want to chat about it, encourage it!

[nobylerdoubt]

Let's Analyze - Mileven's Gender Roles

Quick Note: A while ago I had you vote on what the next Let's Analyze post will be. The vote decided the next post would be about Season 2 Mileven. Given that I am now hosting a weekly Stranger Things rewatch party, I'll be re-watching the whole of Season 2 soon, and I would rather wait until I can watch the season as a whole to make a Season 2 analysis, rather then going through to watch the clips individually.

So I somewhat recently finally watched @teambyler's 3 hour byler legal defense video. Many of you already know this, but it's VERY good.

One point made in the defense of Mileven in this video is that Mike and El's relationship is unique in storytelling because they actually have reversed gender roles.

El takes on the masculine role as the one who has strength and power, and Mike takes on the feminine role of emotional support and caretaking (think about season 1 - Mike literally housed, clothed and fed her). Mike talks about this in the van scene.

In our VHS Club Discord Chat, @zarzar769 and @noneedtoargue1994 talked about how we can use these reversed gender roles to understand the flaws of their relationship better.

So I don't know if it's a universal thing or if its because I'm a woman, or a liberal, or whatever combination of circumstances - but I have a tendency to understand the perspective of a woman in heterosexual relationship conflicts, over that of the man.

And I feel like this seems to be a common experience when it comes to Mike and El's relationship. A lot of people call Mike an asshole, asking how could be so obtuse, so mean.

We understand where El comes from a lot more.

When we flip in genders and consider it in a new way, we can see their relationship a bit more evenly, and better understand how they are mutually bad for each other.

In this post we're gonna focus on the fights and conflicts in Season 4:

Rink-o-Mania

Mike: Holy shit, El... What did you do? What did you do?!

Now in this scene it is easier for us to see El's side of this, and judge Mike for yelling at her. We've seen what Angela has done to El, at school, on the rink, and moments before hitting her with the roller skate. We understand El's perspective here, and Mike can seem kind of obtuse for not understanding why she did what she did.

But look at this scene with a flipped gender perspective: Mike has just watched her boyfriend hit a girl (someone who we perceive to have less strength and power then El) hard enough to cause her to bleed. For a man, who has more strength and power than the person they've hurt, no amount of hurt the other person has caused them would justify this kind of violence. From this perspective, is it easier to understand why Mike would be horrified and accusatory?

I'm not saying what El did was right or wrong, regardless of what gender she is. These situations hold a lot of nuance.

"From Mike"

I've recently gone more in depth with this argument in this post.

In this scene, again, we're meant to empathize with El. She's been bullied and Mike wouldn't understand. She withholds the information that she's being bullied because while Mike is here she just wants to pretend everything is okay.

But from the flipped gender perspective we can contextualize why she's hiding this from Mike a little bit more. El is the man, he is strong, and has people in his life who expect and rely on him to remain strong - including, and perhaps especially, his girlfriend. Therefore, he can't let this weakness affect him, and he especially can't let his girlfriend see that this weakness effects him.

Does this seem like something you've heard before?

On the flip side you have Mike, the girlfriend, who wishes El would have told her about the bullying, because she understands - she could have helped him.

In this argument you also get El denying Mike's experience with bullying, saying that he doesn't understand. On a semi-unrelated note Mike and El actually have a conversation similar to this in season 1 episode 3:

But looking at this conversation with a flipped gender perspective, what we see is El not letting his girlfriend in - not letting her know his true feelings and struggles, because she can't understand. Why wouldn't she?

To phrase it how I phrased it in our discord chat - you'd be telling this girl that she should has an emotionally unavailable boyfriend. But it's Mike, the boy, who isn't noticing El, the girl's emotions, so instead we blame him for not noticing her feelings. he's not allowed to be frustrated because he should have known.

I'm not saying what El or Mike did was right or wrong, regardless of what gender she is. These situations hold a lot of nuance.

Conclusion

Both El and Mike are responsible for the deterioration of their relationship.

El holds the power in the relationship - both literal and figurative. He is stronger and more powerful than Mike, but she also is the sole reason they're in a relationship at all. She's the reason when they break up, and the is the driving force when they get back together. She feels a need to be strong, to be Mike's superhero, and that comes with the emotional burden of feeling like a monster and feeling as though she can't express her feelings with Mike.

Mike is not in the power position and he wants to be; he doesn't necessarily more strong or more powerful the El or any partner, but he wants to be needed. He wants to feel like he has a say in their relationship rather than everything being out of his hands. The one aspect of their relationship where Mike has ever felt needed is being in the care position - when El needed him for protection, for shelter, for food, for emotional support, and now she doesn't. Which makes him frustrated - frustrated that she won't let him help her, and frustrated that he feels he can't do anything for her. Which leads him to, at times, ignore her needs out of frustration - kind of like, 'well you don't need me anyway, so why should I try?'

No matter who's "side" you're on, this relationship isn't healthy for either of them.

Tag List: @a70smatthew @maddyxroses

[erodasfishtacos]

Threadbare - I ||FWB!H||

prompt: yn avoids because she doesn't know what else to do

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, cheating

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

This will be updated this month.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (2-5kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 375 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

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you can check it out HERE

YOU CAN GET 70% YOUR FIRST MONTH OF MEMBERSHIP!

SIGN UP THROUGH WEB BROWSER NOT THROUGH APP STORE TO AVOID IOS FEE!!!!

first TWENTY to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month! -

-

The transition in being friends to friends with benefits was surprisingly smooth for the impressively big amount of lack of communication, lack of resolution, and all over how much was swept under the rug instead of address.

It’s was a quiet tension between them that was sometimes sexual tension, sometimes angsty.

They couldn’t wait for trivia to be over so they could get their hands on each other or this other.

It was not as pleasant when someone mentioned Lauren or Ben.

How if someone brought up Lauren, YN’s eyes would automatically dart to Harry to see his reaction and she didn’t miss the ways his jaw clenched when Ben was brought up.

It wasn’t a mutual agreement of not talking about these things, acting like them coming together was conventional or that everytime they went out with their friends - they didn't tell them.

They held this secret between them, not only that they were currently hooking up but what transpired that weekend at the lake house.

Neither of them were that kind of person, who would step out on their partner, or cross boundaries they shouldn’t when they’re in a committed relationship but apparently they were that kind of people - both of them.

YN knows there is nuance.

She knows neither her nor Harry were happy in their relationship.

She knew that Lauren treated Harry like shit nearly a ninety-percent of the time.

Ben had never been all that great after the love-bombing phase was done which she had fell for the flowers and the random grand gestures.

It didn’t make it okay.

YN always had a bit of a crush on Harry.

He was a bit more attentive to her than he was to any other females in the friend group but she’d never looked into that or fed into that too much.

She brushed it off on the fact that she had a (now looking back) massive crush on him that she didn’t want to actually acknowledge because she shouldn’t have a crush on someone who’s in a relationship as she’s in a relationship with someone else.

It was fucked up.

The rest of the time of at the lake house was tense after YN had bolted from the pool, leaving Harry mid-apology but knowing better than to chase after her.

He hadn’t bothered her again - even as they both were in different rooms in the same big summer house.

She could hear him in the kitchen, starting the blender, he had to be able to hear when she turned on the shower but there was silence between them.

And it disappointed her, selfishly, she wanted there to be a knock on the bedroom door, another conversation, something from Harry.

But she was the one who ran, who made it clear that what happened wasn’t good, and YN has always struggled with avoidance, it why she hasn’t broken up with Ben.

She hated confrontation and uncomfortable situations to a fault.

Being socially anxious was in her bloodstream, and having hard conversations was like pulling teeth without being numbed first.

So the second Harry had pulled his hand back, his mouth opening to discuss what just happened - there was no other option for YN then to just avoid, flee so that she didn’t have to talk about it.

YN doesn’t come out of her bedroom for the rest of the night.

Her heart’s in her stomach because even if she doesn’t want to be with Ben, there was guilt for liking what just happened with Harry.

She couldn’t get it out of her mind when he’s cupped her breast, when the rough pad of his thumb had nudged over her nipple.

It was fucked up that her thighs were wet at the thought, at the way his eyes had honed in on her, and how fucking turned on he looked as he reached out to touch her.

She’d never felt that kind of arousal in her life and it wasn’t right, she wasn’t expecting it with Harry when she had long ago deemed him out of her league.

YN wasn’t asleep by the time that Ben stumbled in, drunk and clueless to the internal crisis of self she was having.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut when she felt him looking at her.

Determining whether she was asleep or not, and mumbled some intelligible before he was stumbling out of his clothes and crawling into bed - promptly passing out even while YN struggled to calm her mind.

+

YN knew she was making everything worse.

She knew that she needed to talk to Harry but avoidance was easier.

It was easier to not make eye contact with him when everyone clmabered downstairs in the morning.

It was easier to sit as far away as possible from him at the table when they all ate breakfast, and made sure not to look at him.

YN could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face.

She could tell that he was staring at her, willing her to look at him, and she wanted him to stop because he was being obvious - or at least she felt like he was drawing attention to the situation but if anyone notices, nobody say anything.

Then they’re down by the lake, YN’s laying on a lounger on the dock, soaking up the sun, and trying to warm up before getting into the water which was chiller than she usually liked.

It was peaceful until she can feel the wood of the dock start to tremble next to her until someone is sitting on the chair opposite her.

YN has sunglasses on that were big enough to hide her eyes completely, dark enough that he couldn’t see.

She blinked her eyes open to Harry looking at her with an unfamiliar look on his face, she didn’t know what he was feeling but he definitely wanted her attention.

YN sits up as Harry hands her something, his voice quiet and unsure, “You’ve got to reapply, you’re gettin’ burnt.”

“Thanks,” YN takes it from him, making sure their hands don’t touch even though she can acknowledge that it’s dramatic.

Even if she’s being short outward, internally there were butterflies tumbling around in her belly that he was even paying attention to her like this.

Apparently her standards were incredibly low because Ben would never do something like this.

He wouldn’t have noticed in the first place, nor used any amount of energy to go up to the house to get the bottle of sunscreen.

“Think I grabbed the right one, you said the one in the blue bottle irritates your skin, right?” Harry checks, he’s off, subdued.

YN didn’t like it but she couldn’t bring it up, they couldn’t talk about it where anyone could hear them.

The thoughtfulness, the fact that he listened when she made that off-handed comment the other day when Ben handed her the blue bottle.

“This is the right one,” YN agrees lamely, taking it out of his hand, they were both skating on uncertainty.

“You ignored me at breakfast,” Harry observes, suddenly on topic to what they really need to talk about.

And YN knows her eyes must have widened like a deer about to be hit by oncoming headlights because she wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

“Didn’t mean to,” YN lies, it wasn’t even a good one but she could feel this uneasiness starting to churn in her stomach because at the end of the day, she had this stupid fucking crush on Harry.

And now she’s seemingly on track to continuously make herself look like an immature little girl who can’t have a conversation.

Harry’s brow furrows at that, huffing with a shake of his head, “Okay. I guess it’s just in my head then.”

And YN didn’t want to gaslight him either.

Fuck.

“I-” YN doesn’t know what to say, swallowing harshly as toys with the sunblock bottle, “It’s not…in your head. I - don’ know.”

It wasn’t graceful or intelligent whatsoever, she felt tongue-tied suddenly at having to explain her poor behavior.

“I would like to talk to you about yesterday,” Harry replies, his tone is neutral, unreadable.

She'd rather not have a conversation about him apologizing, saying it was a mistake, that he wasn’t thinking, that it didn’t mean anything.

She was going to actively avoid the conversation at all fucking costs.

“Not…here,” YN glances around, no one was directly by them but it wasn’t the place to have it - in active eyeline of both of their significant others.

“You will talk to me about it though?” Harry persists, his fingertips are digging into his knees, she knows

it's

absurd but it looks like he’s actively resisting reaching out and touching her.

YN nods, the guilt revving back up because she knows she’s going to do whatever to avoid it, to not have all of her false hopes and dreams crushed.

He was out of her league, he had a gorgeous girlfriend, he was in a committed relationship, and she was too - it was stupid for her to even entertain the idea.

“Yeah, just not here,” YN agrees weakly, she wonders if he can tell she’s not being truthful with him, if he’ll call her out on it.

“Please just know that -” Harry starts to say, leaning in a bit closer in a way that wasn’t inappropriate but made if more difficult for anyone to overhear.

“Harry! Stop bullshitting and get me a fuckin’ drink!” Lauren interrupts obnxiously from the water.

By the slur of her words, she already had enough alcohol pumping through her veins, and the way she demanded from Harry wasn’t anything new but it never got easier to hear him being barked orders to.

The rest of their friends laugh, like it’s funny how Lauren talks to him.

But by the subtle sharp edge to her tone and the way that Harry’s eyes instantly go dark, his nose scrunching slightly in disgust before he hides it shows just how unfunny that interaction is.

Maybe because she sees too much of herself in Harry in that way.

Ben barking at her for things and she just does it to avoid conflict or arguements.

Nothing was funny about it.

++

YN unsurprisingly doesn’t stick to her word, Harry seeks her out two times during the day to try to talk to her.

The first time YN gets flustered, makes up an excuse about having to use the bathroom, and promptly hides in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

The second time, YN suddenly gets very busy helping set up the volleyball net when she notices Harry starting to make his way towards her.

And she knows by the end of the night, his patience is wearing thin - purely based off of the unamused glances he gives her.

The way he’s not anywhere near as talkative as he normally is, and his general demeanor is off - even their friends call him out a few times on it.

Now, she’s nervous to talk to him because of the fact that he’s getting annoyed with her.

She truly keeps digging the hole she’s stepped into deeper and deeper until it feels entirely impossible to pull herself up out of without ramifications.

It wasn’t until late, it was nearly eleven, and their night was in full swing.

The bonfire was blazing, everyone had alcohol flooding their systems except for YN and Harry.

YN wasn’t naturally a big drinker but tonight, she was far too uneasy to think about even sipping anything.

Whereas Harry had a beer or two but he’d been nursing them slowly, enough that he wouldn’t feel any effects of it.

YN feels like the walls were closing in around her.

The conversation was going to come, Harry seemed determined by this point, and YN has probably just made this whole situation worse by not having the conversation in the first place.

YN sneaks away to the bathroom in the house, the second floor one because it was one that no one was allowed to throw up in if they drank too much.

She did it while Harry was in the middle of a volleyball game, and she really didn’t think he’d dip out to have the conversation or pull away from the group because it would surely be suspicious if YN and Harry randomly disappeared around the same time.

But YN is wrong.

God, she’s so wrong.

Because when there’s a knock at the door, YN’s first thought is that it’s Georgia, so without thinking she opens it.

But standing there is a very very unhappy looking Harry who’s lips are in a firm line, his brows drawn inward, and his voice is rougher than usual when he says, “Time to talk.”

“What do you want?” YN has the nerve to huff, surprised by her own attitude as she steps backwards, and Harry follows her in, shutting the door, and locking it behind him.

She wants to point out that this looks so entirely shady, that they should have this conversation not in a locked room, in a house alone but she cannot find it in her to care to point that out nor does she wants to.

“I want you to stop avoiding me,” Harry replies as he crosses his arms, standing towards the door and allowing YN to put some distance between them.

There was this sick, twisted thrill shooting arousal up her spine that she was able to rile him up, get a reaction, it meant in some capacity that he cared at least a bit about her.

When Ben was mad - it turned her off completely but something about the sharp, defined cut of Harry’s clenched jaw, the puffiness of his bottom lip from his front teeth digging into it.

He looked fucking hot when he was pissed and that’s when YN realized she is in deep shit because fuck, she smitten.

“I’m not,” YN replies stubbornly, mirroring his posture by crossing her arms and popping her hip to the side, tongue poking at the inside of her cheek.

Harry looks like he wants to sink his teeth into her- she’d never seen him like this and it was fucked up but she wanted more.

Harry finally smiles but it’s not his normally, boyish grin.

It’s intimidating, sharp and dangerous, his dimples popping as he tilts his head, “I didn’t ask you if you were avoiding me. I’m telling you what you were doing. I’m done with it, we need to talk. Understood?”

And if YN could rub her thighs together without it being obnoxious she would.

It’s twisted, he’s clearly upset and she’s better than no man, thirsting over the way the vein at the side of his neck bulges, his biceps look massive as they flex, and his eyes are sparkling with fury.

“I’m sorry,” Harry takes a deep inhale, calming slightly as he becomes a tad bit more lax in his posture, “It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable and it was completely out of line for me to do. I take full accountability and I’m so fucking sorry for putting you in an uncomfortable position.”

YN takes a minute to process it because…it wasn’t the apology or the regret she was expecting to hear from him.

It wasn’t necessarily rejection.

It was genuine remorse.

“You…I’m the one who showed you them,” YN replies slowly, more confused than ever, and the arousal fizzles when she notices how distraught Harry is underneath hsis cool demeanor.

“I should have never asked. I should have never put you in a position where you felt like you had to-”

“I didn’t feel pressured or uncomfortable, Harry. I’m an adult who made decisions too,” YN points out because it was on both of them, they both participated equally in the bad behavior.

“Then why did you run away? I thought it was because I made you uncomfortable,” Harry’s shoulder slump slightly in relief, his arms uncross but he doesn’t step forward even if she wants him too, even though she shouldn’t want him to.

“I was scared,” YN admits quietly, she has to look away for a moment because his gaze was so fucking intense.

“What were you scared of, Honey?” Harry pushes, he takes a step forward, lessening the space in the small area but they still weren’t touching, and her heart was starting to fully pound like she was running a marathon.

YN finally blinks at him, teeth dug into her lip, debating whether she should tell him the blunt truth - gauging whether that will just lead to rejection but the way he’s looking at her, it makes her want to risk it, say ‘fuck it’.

“Of how much I wanted it,” YN’s voice is barely above a whisper but he could hear it in the otherwise silent house.

“Wanted what,” Harry’s voice is deeper, rougher, and it’s an almost a demand like he needs to know, that it’s not optional.

“Harry-” YN resists, barely hanging onto her morals with a fucking thread, and waiting for him to cut the string.

And he fucking does.

“Tell me, tell what you wanted so badly,” Harry pushes, his fingers are clenching like earlier, he has to restrain himself from reaching out at her.

“It scared me how badly I wanted you to touch me, wanted your hands on me, on my tits, on…yeah,” YN trails off, sheepish and her cheeks were so fucking hot in embarassment at what she’d just said, admitted.

It’s faster than YN can process, the way Harry strides forward, and handles her - twisting her roughly until she’s pinned against the wall across from the sink, it’s tight and their bodies are pressed flushed.

His lips aren’t on hers but they’re ghosting close enough that if they moved even an inch they would brush.

“Tell me I can,” Harry murmurs, there’s this sweet, desperate, needy plea in it that makes her knees weak, “ I wan’na, so bad, honey.”

YN swallows harshly, losing all sense of why this is wrong, and she finds her hands coming to his hair - gripping there and puling his mouth to hers, “Yeah, yes. You can have it.”