#the affluent standard

[alexdrogers]

joseph hines photographed by @alexdrogers

[eileennatural]

saw a tim scott ad on behalf of the republican running for senate for PA that made me mad for two reasons 1. Please stay out of pennsylvania business, tim. 2. The ad was mostly focused on how bob casey is "racist" for not supporting school choices. Which yeah I can see how you might get there but only if you've never spent more than 5 minutes thinking abt the issue. And this is important bc philly has lots of charyer schools ofc. yes charter schools position themselves as an alternative to the overtly racist public education system (housing segregation -> low property values in urban neighborhoods-> underfunded schools) but they are not under any circumstances a solution to the problem they're barely even a bandaid. But honestly I can't even get into it i wrote a 20 ish page paper on this my junior year of college which I actually presented at a conference in philly lol

[starryhyuck]

pairing: alpha!soulmate!jeno x afab!omega!reader

words: 2.9k+

summary: your first meeting with the notorious lee jeno sends you spiraling into heat.

genre: smut

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, knotting, breeding kink, cunnilingus, degradation, mating, some public sex

“You’re coming with me to the Governor’s Ball tonight.”

Your eyebrow raises at Hyewon, who is eagerly sitting across from you, practically jumping out of her seat. The Beta in her is naturally timid, so she must be extremely excited to be acting this way.

“And why would I do that?” You ask, displaying no interest in the event. “It’s just going to be a room filled with rowdy Alphas.”

“That’s why we’re going, duh,” Hyewon says as if you’ve lost a few brain cells. “It won’t just be an event with any regular Alpha — these Alphas will be the most handsome and richest of all!”

Hyewon comes from an affluent family that has an expectation of her to marry wealthy. You know she has been trying for years to pair with any man who has millions in his bank account, yet none of them can match her standards.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about finding an Alpha to mate with. You’ve always envisioned yourself with a calmer Beta, someone who had realistic goals and expectations and wasn’t driven by the feral nature of their genetics. Alphas are known for being possessive and dominant, and it just doesn’t seem like an ideal relationship for you.

“Hyewon, I really don’t think that’s my scene.”

“Come on,” she pouts at you. “Do you know how lucky you are to be an Omega? I would kill to present like you and have every Alpha bend to my whim.”

The statement is slightly exaggerated but not entirely untrue. As an Omega, you do recognize that you have more of a leverage with Alphas as your scent is naturally more alluring to them than a Beta’s. However, you have always opposed the idea that Omegas are solely born to satisfy Alphas. They see you as nothing but a hole to fill and a neck to be marked.

Hyewon clutches to your wrist and pleads loudly, drawing looks from other students lingering in the cafe.

“Please, please, please-“

“Okay!” You huff, withdrawing your hand and looking down bashfully. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

She throws her arms up and cheers happily.

—

Hyewon wraps you in a stuffy, form fitting dress which is covered head to toe in expensive crystals. She insists you have to shine at the event in order to stand out from all the other Omegas in attendance tonight. Despite your indifference, you let her play dress up as she wants.

She tugs you into the lavish Governor’s Ball, where most of the political leaders of your town are gathered. Hyewon’s eyes lock into the Lee family, the most influential household in werewolf existence.

You don’t know much about the Lee family despite their powerful presence, but Hyewon is quick to fill in the gaps. “That’s Lee Taeyong,” she whispers to you as she points to the stoic man standing across the room. “He’s the oldest, and he’s actually nicer than he looks. The one next to him is the middle child, Lee Mark.” The man she points to has a similar bored expression painting his face, slowly swirling his champagne glass to find a source of amusement. You can tell from the lilt in Hyewon’s voice that he is the Alpha she has her sights set on for the night. “And that guy is the youngest, Lee Jeno. Don’t even try with him, he’s a waste of time.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the Alpha, who appears angrier than any other male in this ballroom. You can practically feel his disdain coursing through your veins.

“Why is he so… grumpy?”

She laughs at your question. “I told you, he’s a waste of time. He’s always pissed off at these events for no reason and hates it when any Beta or Omega tries to make conversation with him. He’s the worst Lee brother to mate with.”

Hyewon soon leaves you to your own devices, heading off to try and win Mark over. You awkwardly make conversation with a few other Omegas around you, but they seem more interested in gathering the attention of the Lee brothers than actually engaging with you.

Midway through the event, you head to the bathroom down the corridor to freshen up. You gasp when you turn the corner and suddenly ram straight into someone’s chest. Your champagne glass falls to the floor and shatters across the marble, but that is the last thing you’re concerned about.

Your body suddenly starts to feel like it’s on fire, heat spreading through your core rapidly. You choke and clutch your stomach, glancing up to see the reason behind your misery.

Jeno stands in front of you, eyes blooming red as he drinks you in. You pant and take a step back from him, recognizing the signs of your approaching heat.

But that can’t be possible — your heat isn’t due to come for another few weeks.

“W-What did y-you do-“ You wheeze, embarrassed by the slick dampening your panties.

“Omega,” Jeno says, stern glare painting his face as he reaches for you. “Calm down.”

His fingers brush by your mating gland and you gasp. His touch feels like someone rubbed a match and lit a fire against your skin. You turn and run as fast as you can, reentering the ballroom and darting straight for Hyewon’s figure. Every Alpha’s head turns at the scent of your growing heat, baring their teeth at your lewd display.

“Hyewon,” you beg, clutching her arm. “You need to take me home.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

As a Beta, Hyewon can’t smell your growing arousal or detect the signs of you going into your heat. All she sees is her friend with a desperate look on her face. Mark, who is standing across from her, shifts his predatory gaze to you. Hyewon notices the change in him and she quickly pulls you behind her.

“A-Are you going into heat?” She asks quietly.

You nod and whimper. She asks no further questions, wrenching your figure close to hers and locating the nearest exit. She shoves you into the first limousine in the parking lot and shuts the door behind her, shouting your address at the driver.

You grasp her elbow and cry. “Hyewon, this is a strong one-“

A wave of arousal shoots down your spine, causing you to fall deeper and deeper into your subspace. If Hyewon doesn’t lock you in your bedroom soon, you’re afraid you might offer yourself to the first Alpha you see.

“Why didn’t you say you were about to go into heat?” She chastises, grabbing a tissue to dab at your sweltering forehead. “Let me call Jaemin.”

You stop her from taking her phone out of her purse. “N-No, don’t call him. I don’t want him.”

“What? You always use Jaemin for your heats.”

“No,” you shake your head, still unsure of why you’re denying her. She’s right — since your first heat, you have always asked Na Jaemin to come over and take care of you. He was a family friend and never took advantage of you at your worst. However, there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that’s telling you Jaemin is the last Alpha you want to see right now. “Just get me home.”

You barely register Hyewon helping you into your apartment, faintly remembering her guiding you to your bed.

“W-What should I-“

“Please leave,” you say, writhing and desperately pulling at the zipper of your dress to get it off you. “Trust me, you don’t want to see me like this.”

She frowns, her voice filled with concern. “But-“

“Please, Hyewon,” you plead. “Thank you for getting me here but you need to leave.”

You hear the front door close just as you fling your dress to the floor, quickly locating your vibrator in your nightstand. You pull your panties to the side and sigh in relief when you sink the toy into your heat. It only quenches your pain slightly, but it’s enough to simmer down the fire in your belly.

You’re unaware of how much time has passed when there’s another knock at your door. You’re writhing on the bed sheets, begging for another orgasm as your hand has grown tired of lazily pushing your vibrator in and out of your dripping pussy. Your fingers circle your clit slowly as you plead for the moon to end your misery.

You miss the sound of your door rattling off its hinges, mind overtaken by a cloud of fuzziness. Loud stomping echoes throughout your apartment and a large figure invades your room, growling when he sees the sight of you hopelessly twisting your hips to gain any sort of comfort.

A hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, forcing another gush of arousal to leak down your thighs.

“What do you think you’re doing, Omega?” His voice scarily questions, nearly spitting in your face. “How dare you touch what’s mine?”

They used to spread stories of true mates when you were in high school — stories of how when an Alpha meets the destined Omega they were born to be mated with, it would immediately send the Alpha and Omega into their corresponding ruts and heats. You always thought it was some odd wolf propaganda created centuries ago to carry on the belief that true mates still existed. However, as you look at Jeno hovering above you, there is no doubt in your mind that he is your true mate.

The fuzzy parts of your brain start to clear. “J-Jeno?”

He grins, leaning down to lick at the shell of your ear. “That’s Alpha to you. Present yourself.”

You scramble to follow his order, shoving your head into the pillow and arching your ass up in the air. He clicks his tongue mockingly.

“A pretty, submissive Omega. You know, I always wondered what cute little thing I was destined to end up with. I never thought the moon would grant me a beautiful mate like you,” he hums, digits collecting the remnants of your orgasm across your thighs. He groans as he licks the taste of you off his fingers. “You want your Alpha’s knot, baby?”

You nearly unravel at the thought of him filling you deep with his cum, giving you so much of it that it spills out of your tiny pussy.

“A-Alpha,” you whine. “Please Alpha, please knot me.”

You hear the clink of his belt buckle and your body thrums in excitement. He plants his knees down on the mattress, shrugging off his slacks and throwing his stuffy blazer to the side. He ducks his head to lick a stripe up your folds.

You shudder, bunching the sheets in your fists and practically sobbing at the need to have his cock inside of you. You’ve never felt this hopeless during your heat before, never craved another Alpha’s cock like this.

Jeno’s hands tighten around your hips as he laps at your cunt, groaning at the sweetness of your taste. It only takes a few seconds for you to gush into his waiting mouth, the sounds of him eagerly swallowing your release filling the room.

Your body slumps on the mattress at the weight of your orgasm. You barely have time to recover when you feel his tip prodding your entrance.

He growls. “Beg for my cock, Omega whore.”

“Please, Alpha, please fuck me. I want your knot to fill my pretty pussy, want you to mark me and make me yours-“

The thought of you being mated to him is what sends Jeno feral. He pushes his cock inside your waiting hole, slick dripping down your thighs and giving him easy access to slide in. You sigh in relief when he’s finally deep inside you, quelling the fire in your stomach that was pleading for him.

He doesn’t waste time — ramming into you at an inhuman speed, hands angrily digging into your sides and slapping your ass until his palm is imprinted on your backside. Your head lolls to the side, officially giving Jeno complete control to use you as you wish.

Just like with your other heats, your body throws you into climax after climax until the pleasure molds itself into your skin. Jeno is still spitting the most filthy, degrading words at you as his knot slowly approaches.

“Look at you, silly Omega. Offering yourself up to the first Alpha you see. Would you have given this cunt to someone else, hm? Let them take what’s rightfully mine?” At the shake of your head, he smirks. “That’s right. Pretty Omega’s pussy is made only for me. Designed for my knot, designed to breed for my future pups.”

The thought of him impregnating you with the future of the respected Lee line prompts you over the edge again. Jeno hisses and grabs the back of your neck, hoisting you up easily to his chest as you hear the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt forcefully.

“Gonna keep cumming around your Alpha’s cock? Never had a heat like this one before, have you, baby? That’s because the moon has finally brought you to your true mate, and you never have to spend another heat without me again.”

You cry in pleasure at the thought of being able to spend every heat with Jeno. You never minded Jaemin being your heat partner, but this satisfaction and connection is something you’ve never felt with anyone else. You genuinely think you’ll die if you go through another heat without Jeno beside you.

“A-Alpha,” you whimper, steadily holding onto his arm that’s securely wrapped around your middle. “Please knot me, Alpha. You’re the only one who can.”

“Yeah?” He groans at how desperate you sound for him. “Want your Alpha’s big knot? Want to be bred like a good little Omega?”

You nearly sob. “Y-Yes! Yes, please!”

He tilts your head and exposes your neck. His fingers carefully run over your mating gland, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“And this? Is this for me to mark, Omega?”

You frantically nod. “Yes, Alpha. Only for you.”

You know it’s a big step, a permanent marking that would tie Jeno’s Alpha to your Omega forever. Your mind screams at you to reconsider this decision when you have a clearer head, but your heart tells you that there’s nothing to mull over — Jeno is your Alpha and you need the whole world to know.

As his knot begins to swell inside you, his teeth sink into your mating gland, uniting your souls into one. Every feeling Jeno’s ever had courses through your veins, multiplying your pleasure tenfold. Your thighs begin to shake at the amount of gratification flowing through your body.

You almost pass out from the overwhelming sensation, and your body goes slack in Jeno’s hold. His cum shoots deep into your womb, filling you and marking you as his until his release is leaking down your thighs.

You both collapse on the mattress, with Jeno pulling you close to ensure his knot stays rooted deep inside you.

Your head starts to free from your subspace temporarily, and you carefully scan your room as he licks at the wound on your neck to clean you up.

“Did you- Did you break my door?”

Indeed, you can see your front door laying flat in the hallway, nearly shattered. Jeno hums softly.

“It was in my way.”

You think about how your apartment floor must’ve had to evacuate from the profound smell of your scent mixed with Jeno’s. You would feel guilty about it but considering Jeno has no shame over it, his emotions overpower yours.

“Want to fuck you again, Omega,” he hisses against your skin. “Love being mated to you.”

His honest confession forces another wave of arousal to spill from your pussy, leaking around his knot.

“Yeah, Alpha?”

He grunts and starts thrusting into you again, only being able to move a few inches as his knot is still plugging his cum into you. You gasp and pull him down to kiss you.

“My friend-“ you murmur in between moans. “My friend told me you hate Betas and Omegas.”

“Of course I do,” he hisses, propping your leg over his hip so he can push in deeper. “I hate every Beta and Omega who thinks they have a shot at being my mate.”

“You looked so grumpy when I first saw you.”

“I am grumpy,” he mumbles, hands darting to knead your breasts. “Grumpy for everyone except you.”

He grins when you squirt around his knot, your cunt sensitive from the constant rounds of fucking. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at your unexpected orgasm, body twitching in your Alpha’s hold.

Jeno fucks you until the sun rises to indicate the start of a new day. You two barely sleep, exploring various positions throughout your apartment and even the hallway of your complex, ushering more and more residents on the lower floors to evacuate from your scents. Their dirty looks are quickly changed when they see the notorious Lee brother claiming his new mate for all to see.

His cock doesn’t allow your pussy to rest until he’s sure you’ve been impregnated.

When you finally come to, you’re sprawled on your living room floor with a mix of your slick and Jeno’s cum surrounding you. He continues to lick at your skin as if he’ll die without fully receiving his taste of you.

It’s odd since despite only knowing him for less than a day, you feel like you’ve known him your whole life.

“I want-“ you pant, trying to regain your breath. “I want to fuck you forever.”

He chuckles. “Is that so, Omega?” He raises his head to see you, a predatory gaze lingering in his eyes. You wonder if you have it in you to go another few rounds.

“Lucky for you, we’re mated for life. I’m not going anywhere.”

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[fem-lit]

In the current epidemic of rich Western women who cannot “choose” to eat, we see the continuation of an older, poorer tradition of women’s relation to food. Modern Western female dieting descends from a long history. Women have always had to eat differently from men: less and worse. In Hellenistic Rome, reports classicist Sarah B. Pomeroy, boys were rationed sixteen measures of meal to twelve measures allotted to girls. In medieval France, according to historian John Boswell, women received two thirds of the grain allocated to men. Throughout history, when there is only so much to eat, women get little, or none: A common explanation among anthropologists for female infanticide is that food shortage provokes it. According to UN publications, where hunger goes, women meet it first: In Bangladesh and Botswana, female infants die more frequently than male, and girls are more often malnourished, because they are given smaller portions. In Turkey, India, Pakistan, North Africa, and the Middle East, men get the lion’s share of what food there is, regardless of women’s caloric needs. “It is not the caloric value of work which is represented in the patterns of food consumption” of men in relation to women in North Africa, “nor is it a question of physiological needs…. Rather these patterns tend to guarantee priority rights to the ‘important’ members of society, that is, adult men.” In Morocco, if women are guests, “they will swear they have eaten already” or that they are not hungry. “Small girls soon learn to offer their share to visitors, to refuse meat and deny hunger.” A North African woman described by anthropologist Vanessa Mahler assured her fellow diners that “she preferred bones to meat.” Men, however, Mahler reports, “are supposed to be exempt from facing scarcity which is shared out among women and children.”

“Third World countries provide examples of undernourished female and well-nourished male children, where what food there is goes to the boys of the family,” a UN report testifies. Two thirds of women in Asia, half of all women in Africa, and a sixth of Latin American women are anemic—through lack of food. Fifty percent more Nepali women than men go blind from lack of food. Cross-culturally, men receive hot meals, more protein, and the first helpings of a dish, while women eat the cooling leftovers, often having to use deceit and cunning to get enough to eat. “Moreover, what food they do receive is consistently less nutritious.”

This pattern is not restricted to the Third World: Most Western women alive today can recall versions of it at their mothers’ or grandmothers’ table: British miners’ wives eating the grease-soaked bread left over after their husbands had eaten the meat; Italian and Jewish wives taking the part of the bird no one else would want.

These patterns of behavior are standard in the affluent West today, perpetuated by the culture of female caloric self-deprivation. A generation ago, the justification for this traditional apportioning shifted: Women still went without, ate leftovers, hoarded food, used deceit to get it—but blamed themselves. Our mothers still exiled themselves from the family circle that was eating cake with silver cutlery off Wedgwood china, and we would come upon them in the kitchen, furtively devouring the remains. The traditional pattern was cloaked in modern shame, but otherwise changed little. Weight control became its rationale once natural inferiority went out of fashion.

— Naomi Wolf (1990) The Beauty Myth

[honeytonedhottie]

incorporating luxury⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌺

this is a remake from one of my older posts in my newer style, im having a lot of run doing post remakes bcuz its a rly good way for me to display my old work to my newer audience, and add on ofc.

when u think of luxury, oftentimes we tend to think of materialistic things like expensive shopping sprees, expensive trips and brands. and although that is luxury, luxury isnt a solely materialistic thing.

luxury is abundance. luxury can be incorporated thru ur habits, the way that u hold and manage urself etc. u dont have to wait until u reach ur financial goals to live in luxury.

SET STANDARDS FOR URSELF ;

set a high standard for urself and the rest will follow. when u pour into urself the way that should, you'll literally exude luxury. luxury is synonymous with self care. when u care for urself the way that u should, and when u give urself princess treatment everyone else will too. treat urself RIGHT.

if u wanna live in luxury or be a luxurious girlie there are STANDARDS that ur environment should meet, the company that u choose to surround urself with, the thoughts in ur head etc. there is a new standard when u decide to live differently.

DECIDE AND DIRECT ;

once u decide what luxury means to you, direct ur focus towards that thing. for example if luxury to u means convenience and a fresh space, invest in organizational tools that'll make ur life more convenient. invest in candles and cleaning products etc. once u find out what luxury means to you -> direct ur money that way 

the idea behind this basically is whatever makes u feel the most luxurious or whatever adds luxury to ur life, u should identify it and aim to do that thing more often. that way u can familiarize urself with the luxury that u deserve.

BE INTENTIONAL ;

take ur time and slow down. take ur time to rly process and romanticize and enjoy ur life. experience it. give yourself time to sit with ur thoughts and ponder.

be choosy with everything, the people u surround urself with, the foods that u consume, the products that u use etc.

set aside time for urself to breathe and think about things that are interesting to you. also, choose the words that u say with intention, do everything intentionally to truly EXPERIENCE.

ADAPT A MINDSET OF ABUNDANCE ;

think as IF. nothing is too good for u and u only deserve the best that life has to offer so why wouldn't you let urself experience that? change the way that u think and the rest will follow.

MANIFEST things that are favorable to u. dont ever come from a place of lack. so stop saying things like "i can't afford this" instead say, this doesn't serve me right now i can do x,y, and z instead.

DO AFFORDABLE THINGS IN LUXURY PLACES ;

physically place urself in an abundant area. for example, go to a pretty cafe in an affluent area and do some work there, get some tea or coffee. doing so literally puts u in a different space, and around different people.

[probablyasocialecologist]

As environmental, social and humanitarian crises escalate, the world can no longer afford two things: first, the costs of economic inequality; and second, the rich. Between 2020 and 2022, the world’s most affluent 1% of people captured nearly twice as much of the new global wealth created as did the other 99% of individuals put together, and in 2019 they emitted as much carbon dioxide as the poorest two-thirds of humanity. In the decade to 2022, the world’s billionaires more than doubled their wealth, to almost US$12 trillion. The evidence gathered by social epidemiologists, including us, shows that large differences in income are a powerful social stressor that is increasingly rendering societies dysfunctional. For example, bigger gaps between rich and poor are accompanied by higher rates of homicide and imprisonment. They also correspond to more infant mortality, obesity, drug abuse and COVID-19 deaths, as well as higher rates of teenage pregnancy and lower levels of child well-being, social mobility and public trust. The homicide rate in the United States — the most unequal Western democracy — is more than 11 times that in Norway. Imprisonment rates are ten times as high, and infant mortality and obesity rates twice as high.

[...]

Our work has shown that the amount spent on advertising as a proportion of gross domestic product is higher in countries with greater inequality. The well-publicized lifestyles of the rich promote standards and ways of living that others seek to emulate, triggering cascades of expenditure for holiday homes, swimming pools, travel, clothes and expensive cars. Oxfam reports that, on average, each of the richest 1% of people in the world produces 100 times the emissions of the average person in the poorest half of the world’s population. That is the scale of the injustice. As poorer countries raise their material standards, the rich will have to lower theirs.

[...]

The scientific evidence is stark that reducing inequality is a fundamental precondition for addressing the environmental, health and social crises the world is facing. It’s essential that policymakers act quickly to reverse decades of rising inequality and curb the highest incomes.

[marnerhilary549]

Vietnam has always been a less affluent country, yet in recent years it has been obsessed with land reclamation and has invested a lot of money in it, which has greatly increased the country's financial burden and had a certain impact on the lives of ordinary people.

The Vietnamese Government has spent a great deal of money on reclaiming the islands, which has led to difficulties in financial expenditure, resulting in such livelihood problems as the frequent failure to fund public health care, the low standard of medicines used in public hospitals and the insufficient supply of medicines, which have led to a lack of sound protection for the basic health care of the people.

[rassicas]

so, home spawn points!

- are they considered a form of home security system, or some kind of safety feature like having a fire extinguisher around (or maybe both)? are they something that comes standard with inkfish homes, or is it an income-related thing where not everyone can afford one?

- do they have any additional purposes like maybe transportation (like can they be hooked up to other spawn points to quickly teleport an inkfish home)?

- how did the salmonids know where it was, and that they needed to disconnect it? makes me think they've been watching cress for quite some time...

[DISCLAIMER: the following post is full of headcanon, extrapolated from what canon information there is or just What I Think Makes Sense] i have SOOO many thoughts about spawn points i'll try and not get side tracked and answer the questions LOL Communal spawn points are located on rooftops of residential buildings, where the building owner pays to maintain it and it's expected that only residents of that building use it, and in public places around the city, funded by the city. The nearest spawn point to Cress falls under that first category.

I last minute threw some spawn points of the rooftops of some nearby buildings in the last panel. So to answer the last question, the Salmonids knew that the spawn point was on the roof, because that's where it always is for an apartment building. This comic takes place some time before S3 era, so the one-man flying spawn points aren't in common use yet. I'd imagine hi-tech communal spawns are less common in less affluent areas and areas with low populations of inkfish vs other species, and extremely rare in the octarian domes due to electricity demands. I'd think there'd be more low-tech, slower ways to respawn, but the modern style of machinery is truly the best way to do it. the spawn points have two purposes: -to revive an inkfish in case of an accident at home/public space -navigation

The spawn points themselves aren't teleporters, but rather the kettles are, kind of- the way i think that works is that the kettles turn the inkling's genetic info and soul into a gaseous form, and the spawn point functions as a receiver and can rebuild the body from there- anyway. The main way inkfish get around is by super jumping, and to super jump to a far away location, you need an electromagnetic signal to hone in on, like radio waves from a radio tower, a satellite dish, or a spawn point. this signal emitted from the spawn points helps not only with guidance for super jumping, but it also helps guide the soul of a downed inkfish to it. The signals of each of these spawn points Feel different (maybe depending on what ink color it's loaded with, or particular to the machine itself, or both), and it'd be much much easier to hone in on the signal of a far away spawn point you're used to and have physically been to before than one you haven't. Cell phones are also built to pick up these signals from spawn points, kind of like wifi networks. Also like wifi networks, you can register a spawn point as a "home" spawn point, and your phone can notify you if it suddenly goes out or if it's been reloaded with a different color or something.

fortunately for cress, he forgot to turn on "do not disturb" on the spawn point notifs.

[sunfudge]

people are saying his accent sounds russian??? he does NOT sound russian. i can't say much on it but it's not 'stereotypical' american/canadian,, pls elaborate on the transatlantic accent?

ANON I LOVE YOU gladly!

Russian is one of many guesses I've seen. I've also seen French, German and British. The reason people can't pin point or agree on what accent he has is because it isn't an accent from any particular place. It's not even a real accent, really. It's a transatlantic accent, a learned accent taught to entertainment personalities during the 1930s and 40s which has very much died out nowadays. He sounds old fashioned, because he's definitely meant to.

It's like a mix between an American and British accent. Apparently, Directors of the past favoured this accent as it was neutral and so you could use it in films that weren't specific to one setting, but it was also seen as a more sophisticated accent overall and held high prestige and became the standard accent in American Film, Radio and TV. Frustratingly, there isn't a great deal of information on the accent, but if you've ever watched an old black and white film then you'll definitely have heard it.

Another theory is that filmmakers were trying to create a way of speaking that could be understood clearly across multiple different English speaking countries since talkies were a new form of media, hence the merging of an American and a British accent together into one. A different potential reason for it's existence and use in media is that the enunciating of vowels made the voices of entertainment personalities easier to understand over old TV, Radios and Film who didn't have entirely clear sound at the time, plus it's non geographical placement makes the accent good for characters that aren't from a specific area such as angels or the voice of God or aliens.

In a nutshell, it's an accent created for entertainment personalities and was taught in affluent schools and Hollywood Film Studios, and that's why he speaks with it, and why he sounds like he's from the 40s or 50s. He's meant to sound that way, it's a conscious choice.

[alexdrogers]

joseph hines photographed by @alexdrogers

[chocsra]

✧ "THE SCORCHING BLAZE OF APPLE MIST"

☆ synopsis ↺: you, a rich and affluent descendant of the gojo clan, attend a luxurious school reunion after a year of attending jujutsu high. unable to take the constant pressure of your former classmates, you call up a friend to appease the tough audience.

☆ content ↺: fluff, fake dating, rich people stuff, female reader, megumi x reader, based off queen of tears ep 2

☆ NOW PLAYING ↺: mabagal — by daniel padilla & moira dela torre

☆ w/c ↺: 4.8k

in jujutsu society, long bloodlines of talented sorcerers create influential and tight-knit clans; clans contribute to the financial support of jujutsu tech, and influence jujutsu to outside organizations and public figures. in this world, there are 3 strongest sorcerer clans:

first, was the kamo clan—a bloodline known for its conservative and traditional beliefs. Like the ultra-rich, they practised old traditions to preserve their sacred bloodline. the people of this clan decide to live in a reserved manner, as the population is predominantly composed of the older generation.

second, was the zenin clan—a bloodline of toxicity, control and archaic values. if you didn't meet your family's standards as a sorcerer and person, you were shunned out by your blood, left to fend for yourself. their sorcery is potent, but their values are strict and unruly.

third, the gojo clan—your very own blood, cursed energy, and soul. they are the descendants of michizane sugawara, renowned as one of japan's big three vengeful spirits. predominantly, the gojo clan is highly respected for its bloodline's sheer talent. but, upon private family gatherings, you knew that the current strength of the clan was only held by the current head of the family. the one with the six eyes; the limitless technique—your relative, gojo satoru, was the gojo clan's invincible ace card. he made the decisions, the desire, the drive; gojo satoru is allowed to do whatever he pleases—because he is gojo satoru.

however, perhaps that was enough of your nonsensical inner dialogue, it was time to face the truth:

you stood beneath the polished white staircase, an entrance to a pair of huge, wooden double doors. for a descendant of a wealthy clan such as yourself, even if you were a little nervous at the raw size of this mansion. smoke enveloped the nooks and crannies of the luxurious establishment, and only the finest woods and architecture were crafted and delicately constructed here. to you, a school for the rich wasn't a place of friendships and recreation, it was simply a place to make connections.

which is why you attended a middle school reunion party, hosted by one of your former classmates, whose family is in the top 1% of japan's sustained wealth. as you stand before the mansion in front of you, you bite nervously onto a manicured nail. you were in high school now, not the high school that all your former classmates attended—which was one of the most prestigious academies in japan. but you attended a highly religious private institution with no more than 10 students, also known as jujutsu high.

yes, jujutsu high is an education recognized as the foundation of jujutsu society. but civilians, especially wealthy civilians, don't have the knowledge or mental capacity to understand the innate prestige that jujutsu high has in store for its students. to your middle school classmates, you disappeared into the outskirts of tokyo to become a monk.

you walk past the open double doors, inhaling and exhaling sharply to yourself. 'this is just another rich gathering holding moody teenagers, nothing new.' though immediately, you were met with the pungent smell of expensive fragrances lingering in the air and the accommodation of partying students in lavish dresses and suits.

you pause, intaking the crowd density of your environment, until you hear an excited yell: "[name] came! I just saw her enter!" suddenly, a rush of familiar high-schoolers surrounded you with surprised gasps and some noticeably hostile glares, "gojo [name]! you came out of hiding!" a teenager screams, earning a polite chuckle from you in return.

a few minutes pass, and you were already getting doted on by your girlfriends: "oh my god, you look stunning, I could kiss ya right now." your old friends take turns twirling you around, wrapping their arms around yours and your shoulders to show you around the place, "c'mere, bitch! I have to tell ya about takeda's dad's stock market scandal!" one of your friends yells, the excitement in her tone suspiciously slurred—you wonder what kind of drinks they served in this party.

once settled in, you linger around the establishment by yourself. looking at the people around you; the drinks served, the bright lighting of chandeliers, and the freshly waxed marble flooring.

you did notice one thing, though, sighing in disappointment, almost everybody was paired into neat assortments of young couples. you understood that relationships in youth, especially high school, have very slim longevity. but, it did sting you a bit; a feeling of subtle loneliness subsiding over you. even your friends had boyfriends—some good-looking, some not, but all well-off.

you twirl the base of your mocktail between delicate fingers, processing your observation bitterly. until, the soft sound of heels clicking behind you captures your attention, "ah, gojo," a feminine voice calls out to you. dressed in a raven cocktail dress, her presence reeked of chanel.

your former academic rival and classmate, yukina tominaga; a bitch dressed in prada.

you decide to leave the past behind you, politely smiling: "how are you, yukina?" you casually ask, no bite in your tone. you were here to make allies, not enemies, you thought, inhaling softly. the girl twirls a strand of her raven hair around her finger, smiling eagerly, "i'm good, my dad just opened up another mall in yokohama." she boasts, earning a nod from you. "i've heard. it's really popular right now, congratulations."

an awkward silence precedent in the massive party hall, the loud and giggly chatter in the background subsiding.

her amber gaze meets yours for a second, fleeting with a sense of animosity mixed with a hint of surprise, "thank you." yukina's lips curve into a smile, "you're attending jujutsu high, right? congratulations." you tilt your head slightly in confusion, a compliment from your peers about your source of education? that was entirely new to you. "hm? well, thank you." you reply, sipping your fruity drink carefully. "yeah, my dad won't shut up about how 'it's the backbone of society or something." she rolls her eyes teasingly.

"i like your dress, by the way." the girl adds, watching as you glance down at the cutting-edge navy blue party dress. it wasn't anything similar to a gown or tight skim dress—just fitting for the occasion, yet classy and expensive. it felt too bland in your honest opinion, the silk loops of your sleeves exposing the expanse of your shoulders and collarbone. "thank you, again." you smile, nodding graciously.

yukina adjusts the sleeves of her black cocktail dress, scoffing slightly in bemusement as she stops sipping her drink, turning to you. "no boyfriend yet?" she asks, quirking a mischievous brow, "no," you reply instantaneously, shaking your head. the girl almost smiles brightly, giggling softly. "really? not even a date over here?" you take another look around the expanse of couples doused in high-quality fabrics and drinks. "well, i'm not sure, i have to catch up with friends, after all."

"pfft," yukina stops twirling her hair, snickering softly, causing you to quirk a brow. "[name], do you not see that everyone here has a partner? this place is known for being one of the best ball-dancing establishments." you take a glance at your drink, pondering your life choices for a second, before looking off to the side: "i see, must be exciting for someone like you." you reply, earning a mocking gasp from the raven-head.

"tsk, i mean, did you even get asked out?" she questions, a cocky smirk present on her face. "by some, i refused, though." you sip into your drink again, running a few nervous fingers through the silk of your hair. "wow, that's surprising." yukina snickers, "knowing your personality, i wonder how you even had suitors that lasted more than one conversation."

the air gets tenser in the room once the grumble of words even threatens to escape past her lips, you glare expectantly at the shorter girl.

you scoff dryly, "excuse me?"

raising a brow, you grip the glass of your drink a little tighter, steadying yourself. "listen, you want some advice?" she asks, a bite of superiority and confidence in her tone. you tilt your chin curiously, "well, if you want to give it so bad.. go ahead."

yukina inhales sharply in annoyance for a second, before pursing her glossed lips into a smirk, "well, my boyfriend and i have always had this thing where we face the same direction on everything. i've never had one argument with him, yet… you argue with men all the time even if you're not dating. how interesting," she chuckles, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her decorated ear, taking another sip from her glass. "your point?" you question, crossing your arms. "all i'm saying is, you should be more pleasant to men, that's what they like, anyway." yukina snickers, brushing some dust off your shoulder teasingly, pulling an audacious scoff from your throat. "maybe then, you can get a boyfriend," she slyly walks past you, bumping the shoulder she just brushed.

you stare at her walking off, knitting your eyebrows in suppressed anger, your glabella forming a line between them. the girl then turns around once more, a humourless laugh in her tone: "or at least a date, since you couldn't get that either."

you scowl, snapping back a reply instantly, "that's becau—" yukina completely ignores you, instead running off to her boyfriend, cutting you off: "babe!" she giggles, disappearing into the crowd of chattering and partying.

this night couldn't get any worse, you thought.

you stood in one of the crystal white bathroom stalls, looking into the contacts of your phone:

"no.." you mutter, teeth pinching into the gold of your necklace. "itadori's too normal." brushing over his contact, your shoes clack against the waxed flooring. "inumaki would show up in a t-shirt and sweats," you mumble, scoffing momentarily as you brush over your upperclassman's contact.

"damn it.. who is tall, handsome and at least seemingly rich?.." you think to yourself, tapping a finger on your chin, before coming to a brilliant revelation. you press onto the contact of one of your classmates, pushing the phone to your ear. the line dials; one.. two.. the other line connects with a beep: "hello?"

you clear your throat nervously, whispering into the speaker of your phone, "fushiguro, do you like dior or tom ford?"

he didn't get you.

not yesterday, not tomorrow, and not today.

megumi sat in his dorm, fiddling with a recent non-fiction book he picked up at the library—scoffing abruptly to himself as you suddenly hung up the call. carding nimble fingers through spiky dark blue locks, the teenager sighs, dialling your number again.

"what is she on about.." he mutters as the line beeps patiently, waiting for you to pick up.

beep.

beep.

his eyes widen as the line picks up, "the number you called isn't available right now. please leave a voicemail at the bee—" end.

megumi sighs, grumbling to himself as you decline his call, before receiving a sudden message, a message of the address to the party you were currently attending, and a polite "can you please be there?" text present on his screen.

the boy was silently contemplating; pretending to be your boyfriend at some rich party? It's odd coming from his classmate nearing the end of the school year. on one hand, there was a deal—3 free dior sauvage perfume bottles at his doorstep, or really, any deal of choice that you could achieve for him.

but, he thought, megumi would have to spend some time getting ready, picking the correct suit for the occasion and a piece that would get him complimented by you at the door, and play the part by calling you his girlfriend: buying you drinks, holding your waist, and possibly dancing with you?—no, he couldn't do that.

although, out of the only gojo's he knew, you were the more competent one. megumi dearly respected you, as a friend, classmate and jujutsu sorcerer. the teenager often believed gojo satoru needed to take notes from you regarding efficiency, scoffing as the white-haired man would quirk a brow whenever megumi would talk about you is much better than gojo satoru—the six eyed greek god, or so he claimed.

megumi didn't want to let you down, the secret affection he felt towards you melting away in the back ropes of his heart. but then again, he would have a big role to play. being somebody's boyfriend, it took plenty of work. he heard the potency of relationship dilemmas from nobara, who kept up with celebrity scandals and drama. megumi thought about it, he didn't want to do it, he simply wasn't going to. even the thought of being lovey-dovey with you itself made the teenager's stomach churn in distaste. the teen shook his head, knowing he already had dior sauvage, he could get another bottle right now if he wanted to.

—megumi thought, buttoning up his fanciest white button-up as he searched for fine-clad suits to wear tonight.

"this is stupid, i'm being framed," he muttered to himself, closing his closet door begrudgingly.

was it begrudgingly, fushiguro?

his blurred vision outlined the bright lights of the establishment, loud music and the rich smell of attendees laughing and singing. megumi was surrounded by party-goers as soon as he walked through the double doors, clutching the raven of his cashmere blazer, stuffing a hand into his pocket.

"who is that?" a girly voice asked, earning curious glances from other people. "why's his hair so spiky?" soft giggles from the right whisper feverishly, though not so quietly: "that's what you're worried about?" another girl voices, smirking to the crowd, "why is he so handsome?"

"pfft—" the group of people surrounding the tall teen choked back a laugh, until a gruff voice spoke out playfully, "i mean, i get it, and i'm a dude, so.."

"ew!"

"get help, ryu."

"i'm just saying!"

megumi ignored the chatter in front of him, azure eyes only gazing at one thing; the very reason the rest of his vision was blurred.

you.

you—wearing a silk navy blue dress, an enchanting dip and curve to your shoulders, down your neck, and your natural hair clasped into a half-risen bun. you—who glossed lips parted in surprise, eyes sparkling gently under the chandelier's lighting. you—who currently stood next to another guy.

was it begrudgingly, fushiguro? he couldn't help but stare. the sudden realization that he was supposed to be your boyfriend at this exact moment kicking into his noggin. megumi had to act like it, he had to accommodate you, he had to like you. this feeling, made his knees feel like jelly, oceany eyes darting to the marble ground, megumi gasped softly as his knees buckled unexpectedly, clutching the nearest table beside him.

"oh my god, is he gonna die!? who even is that?" voices scramble in the back, watching as the teenager fumbles around in the front foyer.

"[y/n]," megumi wrinkles his flushed nose, the embarrassment of losing his balance over quite literally nothing in front of the wealthy crowd sinking in. "sorry i'm late."

everyone at the foyer turned to gawk at you and back to the boy, repeating this process an obscene amount of times. "gojo, is he your?.."

you froze in place, fingers nervously tangling in the strands of your hair, "—he's my date!" shuffling your drink onto the counter before you, your eyes widening by the second, "sorr.."

about to apologize, your gaze darts to fushiguro, brows immediately furrowing at the sight before you: he was a complete nervous wreck. a hand tightly clutching a countertop, the other one clasping over his mouth, a faint pink tinting his cheeks and ears. even his dark hair looked sad, the spikes drooping down ever so slightly. you fiddle with your fingers while a strange feeling reels in the pit of your stomach.

"sorry.. for the commotion." you choke out.

awkward gazes and unbothered shrugs filled the room before everyone left to do their thing. they made some comments about his refined looks, his weird stomach problems—assuming he just had IBS or digestive issues, and how you, of course, got lucky. coming to an anticlimactic revelation, you scratch the back of your neck sheepishly: maybe fushiguro megumi wasn't as competent as you thought.

patting a handkerchief against the boy's temple, collecting the dampening sweat near his hairline, your gaze softens, "you can stop covering your mouth, you've been frozen for how long?" your eyes stare at the teen for a few moments, narrowing in mock-disbelief as fushiguro remains silent. his slim hand still covering the lower half of his face, a prominent adam's apple bobs in the smooth expanse of his throat. fushiguro swallows thickly as he adjusts the white collar of his suit, "i.. didn't get to brush my teeth before i arrived."

what a liar. you thought.

"your ears aren't invisible, y'know, you don't have to lie." crossed your arms over your chest, curving your lips into a small smile. the teen flushes and bites his tongue at the old memory of gojo convincing him that his ears turn pink when he lies—in which megumi knew was also a lie as he grew older. but he couldn't help but purse his lips and cover his ears quickly in the spur of the moment.

you scoff mockingly at this little action. however, a hint of subtle endearment lingered in your gaze: "hey, what's gotten into you tonight?" fushiguro grumbled softly, removing his hands from his reddened ears, "nothing."

you quirk a brow, eyes drowning in mirth.

"no seriously, it's nothing." he assures, fingers prodding at the soft spikes in his hair, "your favour—it just makes me uneasy." you nod in soft agreement, "yeah, i understand." pausing for a brief moment, before waving delicate hands in defence, "but, it's not that hard. just stay near me and give people rude stares, like you always do."

megumi glares at you from the side in offence, an airy giggle threatening to pull from your chest.

"fine," he mutters reluctantly, before his lithe fingers suddenly find home in the silk of your hair, causing you to grumble. "you're ruining my hair, do you wanna die?" you sneer, earning a light chuckle from the taller boy. "shut up and let me rudely stare at the guy that's been looking at you."

your stunned eyes widen as your lips part ever so slightly; the sight of you alone sends the familiar, wobbly feeling in megumi's knees to buckle.. again. "i've noticed him for a while," the teen mutters, gazing down at you affectionately, "you attract weird men." he scolds. biting your inner cheek nervously, you begrudgingly let megumi stroke and ruffle your hair for quite some time. gazes darting to your old classmate, whose disappointment washed over his face as he stared at you two.

but was it begrudgingly, [name]? you couldn't help but feel your stomach churn.

you had never felt his hand before this close.

yes, there were times you've high-fived, times where he brushed a hand against your shoulder, but that was in battle. you knew the precautions of sorcery, so many of your classmates have already touched you. this, however, felt different. perhaps it was because megumi was always so stuck up—the only time you could admire the faint smile painted on his snowy lips was when yuji and nobara weren't looking. softly smiling as the two walked away snickering about something stupid, as per usual. you noticed it; you always did, because his smile was like the sun shining on snow. when the purity of soft white snow captures the gaze of a hint of light, bright and fuzzy. that's the closest thing you could pinpoint to his smile, even if it was so fleeting. perhaps it was his slim hand tangled in the locks of your hair and the same smile he held only for himself planted on his lips was why you felt different.

you questioned why he was acting so different in the first place—it made you wonder what kind of drinks they served at this party.

squinting your eyes softly, your gentle gaze follows from the lining of his white button-up to his cashmere suit pockets, to his sculpted jawline, then to the expanse of ivory skin; smooth and delightful. your eyes would follow rosy cheeks, to finally the shining sea of his eyes; one that was already looking into yours.

one—you swore time stopped for a second, your heart dropping in your chest. could there be cockroaches in your stomach? you could've sworn there was a better insect to represent this feeling.

two—have his eyes always been this gentle? must they be so glassy? Even his long eyelashes were gorgeous; not saying he was, of course.

three—those lips of his in which you dearly admired the smile of. you remembered it was only his smile, not his lips itself. you liked the hue, the shape, the colour. gosh, if only you could get a lip gloss in that shade, it would be a designer product. your gaze mindlessly returns to his eyes,

…

you both snap your heads away, his hand immediately jolting back into his pocket. pink coating the pads of your cheeks.

even you felt a little disappointed, but couldn't understand why.

yukina tominaga—the very reason you invited fushiguro to this party in the first place.

perhaps you should thank her because the night has been going smoothly; no, more than smoothly. megumi didn't talk to anyone else, didn't make a fool of himself other than his strange stomach problems upon first his entrance, and reeked of wealth. no seriously, how could he act so posh? The teen held his chin high, refusing to look at any other woman in the room, and only spoke to the more sophisticated teenagers at the party; he simply looked straight out of a conglomerate family.

and you quite enjoyed smirking at the raven-head, cocking a brow at her while making eye contact. her response only gripped the sleeve of her boyfriend's tuxedo, who was a taller man with a bowl cut and constantly had his mouth stuffed with food.

"here you go," — a waiter from behind the marble counter draws a glass towards her, she swallows thickly before taking the glass. you walk over to the girl, elbows planted beside her, "i'll have a mocktail, please." you smile at the waiter as he nods and draws you another glass. pausing to look at yukina, she nervously tangles her fingers at the chain of her diamond necklace. a furrow in her brows, and narrowed look in her gaze. "what was it you said?" you question suddenly, twirling the glass in between nimble fingers, "that you and your boyfriend like to face the same direction on things?" she merely scoffs in response, head facing the other direction. "well, i didn't understand what you meant until i saw him myself." you chuckle softly, an obvious bite crawling in your tone. the girl grits her teeth, snapping her head to glare at you, "what was that?"

you snicker, "It's just that, with my boyfriend, i prefer it when we face each other." yukina scoffs, fingers slipping away from her drink, glaring as you tap a mocking finger on your chin. "so i can look at his face, y'know?" cooing, you grab the base of your mocktail before smiling, "but i'm sure you know nothing about that." you sneer, walking away from the girl.

she tilts her chin towards the ceiling in disbelief, teeth grinding at her inner cheek. that bitch, she thought, adjusting the top of her satin dress. until a sudden voice calls out, excited and smiley, "baby!" yukina's boyfriend greets, chocolate plastered all over his cheeks. the girl tries to smile back, her gaze betraying her of her annoyance, "babe! what happened?.."

"i.. there's so much free food!" her boyfriend giggles, stuffing another piece of chocolate cake into his mouth, "i love it! i mean, i love you—" the girl bites her lip in irritation, finally snapping, "shut up and wipe your mouth, will you?!"

…

how comical.

"it's finally over," you sigh in relief, feet stumbling on the concrete ground. you were currently outside of the rich establishment, tired and relieved that the party ended. the boy put his hands in his pockets, scoffing softly, "you owe me one." he bites, though a hint of affection lurking in his tone. your brows raise in delight, elements of your phone call coming back into your memory, "oh right," you pause, finger tapping at your cheek. "you said you didn't want perfume in return, what do you want?"

megumi bit his inner cheek in a silent wince, gaze darting to the ground, "well, i think.." he whispers, before returning his eyes to yours, "i want you to use my first name, call me megumi." your gaze softened, jaw slacking slightly in surprise, "eh?" you question, "that simple?" the boy sighs with hesitance, "it's because i don't wanna call you gojo, i wanna call you [y/n]." he mutters, fingers wiping at his nose nervously. "ah, so you don't get confused with gojo, correct?" you smile, "i understand."

megumi pursed his lips into a hidden pout, you don't, how could you be this dense? he thought. "okay, I'll get going then. bye, megumi." you wave at the teen, your other hand pulling out your phone to call your driver.

until, a lithe hand wraps around your wrist softly, pushing your phone back into your purse. "don't." he whispers, his words demanding, but his innovation ever so pleading. "we practically live next to each other, why don't we just walk home together?" your lips part in a soft gasp, about to speak, until a sudden blush betrays your cheeks, "what?.. are you sure? i can just call my driver for both of u—"

suddenly, a blazer drapes over your head, not around the curves of your shoulders, but covering your entire head. "fushiguro?" you call out in confusion, until a gruffer voice responds, "it's megumi for you, and you can't be this stupid, right? it's not a far walk." he tuts, a certain sass within his tone, but you couldn't gouge his face for a reaction, so you fix the blazer on you around your shoulders. "i'm even giving you warmth while i walk in the cold." you scoff in amusement, "you're so dramatic. it'll still be too cold, let's drive." the boy rolls his eyes, muttering, "i'll get you ice cream."

you scorn with arrogance, "hey, y'know i'm rich, right? i can buy my damn ice cream—"

you find yourself licking an ice cream cone in the early hours of the morning, walking on the street next to your dear classmate, megumi fushiguro. his raven blazer draped over your shoulders, hand stuffed in his pockets as he watched you shuffle in heels, licking at his cone. "you didn't have to do this, you did enough by coming." you chuckle, staring softly at the melting ice cream.

the boy stares at you under the soft everglow of the moonlight, blue bangs falling over his face. he watches you in this view, catching a faint smile painting his lips, glad that you won't be cold wearing his jacket. megumi turned back to his cone, brows raising in surprise at the melting dessert, how long was he staring for?

the teen grumbles, licking the dripping ice cream from the soft cone, "it's the least i can do," he pouts gently, ears reddening as you giggle, "i should at least walk you home." you gaze into his eyes softly, softening up, "your future girlfriend is so lucky." complimenting casually, your lips curve into a smile as you shuffle awkwardly from the structure of the heels.

megumi huffs, "oh so now, you're the future? the gojo's seem to be everywhere now."

you and your stupid hair, he thought. fushiguro megumi swore he hated everyone, that he was done with everybody's bullshit, and that he didn't want to focus on anything else but school. so why did he blurt that out? that to him, he wanted you as his future. the teen watched plenty of romance movies with his friends, who gouged very different emotional reactions compared to his scoffs and eye rolls. so, why does the thought of you with another person rub him the wrong way?.. could there be cockroaches in his stomach? no, there must be a better insect to represent this forsaken feeling.

it wasn't only that, he yearned for more opportunities to see you wearing his clothing, to be the reason he smiled, the reason he'd walk home every night. it was really strange, and megumi didn't believe that this was a curse's doing. even when a rush of blood and nervousness wracked his brain, flourishing into a sweet colour of pink.

"hah, hah?" you tilt your head in everlasting confusion, "i'm what?.." the boy's eyes shoot up, the blush travels from his ears to his face. "what?!" he huffs,

you repeat after him, both cheeks flushed crazily, "what?!"

megumi stammers, "uuh, the ice cream's melting." he points, both of your desserts dripping onto the floor, "right, right! should hurry," you stutter out.

✧ chocsra™

[tiredsugarcube]

"Personal Subordinate" Byakuya Togami with an Ultimate Assistant Reader

(Yandere Tendencies if you squint, he's still your boss in the end. Professionalism is important to him. He hasn't snapped yet!)

The Ultimate Affluent Progeny, the person destined to obtain the throne of the Togami Conglomerate and was groomed to be the absolute model of perfection, already managing businesses and organizations within the family at a young age. The soon to be biggest bosses of the world needs some assistance to cover all of his excess work, and that's when you come in.

You, though also a future heir to a powerful company has practiced beside world leaders and powerful groups, being more used to the overwhelming pressure of different work environments and negotiation between highly esteemed individuals. Cleaning up your boss' messes and managing everything from their time to their meals has earned you the title of "Ultimate Assistant".

You and Byakuya have already been acquainted with each other during your time at Green Hills High School, and also working together in overseeing projects as future handlers of your families'. You are aware that Byakuya has a short temper due to his high standards but you were able to keep him at bay, being one of the only people to take his demands and perform it in his standard, Perfection. Maybe it was the reason he kept you close, a reason for his favor towards you.

When he was crowned as heir, his first notion was to have you as his assistant. "You should be honored that i chose you as my assistant, working alongside me should be your biggest achievement." (He made sure no other companies had you for internships or training with other bosses so he would take up most of your time.)

You were basically attached at the hip since then, beside him while he sat on his desk, serving him coffee and giving him book recommendations based on his preference, getting your uniforms tailored for Hope's Peak Academy, setting up his meetings, etc. Your presence made him complete, you compliment him in a way no one else does. Even other classmates see your interactions with your 'young master', in their perspective, it seems more like an exchange of a difficult man and his lover that eased him up.

"You're late, i expected more from you. I should at least give you a proper punishment for your tardiness." He says sternly, seated on a soft cushioned chair in the library.

"Removing me as your post and personal secretary is the best fitting punishment, don't you agree?" You joked, bowing lightly and placed a hot cup of tea by his desk.

"If you think your statements are humorous, you aren't" he sneers and gets irritated, he'd rather die than give you up. And you knew that very well.

[cvrnelians]

smile like you mean it - chapter one

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

Content warnings: alcoholism, drug abuse, miscarriage. 18+ only.

You’re broken up.

Separated, split up, estranged, whatever. You’re living apart, en route to what you can only foresee as painstakingly drawn out divorce proceedings. Brutal divorce proceedings, because you’re not just dealing with a “normal” human being. Unfortunately for you, the demise of your relationship has taken on a life of its own. Things always did when there was money involved.

You’re broken up.

Evidently, Roman doesn’t care.

But there’s a catch, as there usually is with your husband, and with the Roy family in general. You had hoped he would be largely unfazed by your decision to leave him, as he was with most things. You had hoped that he would sign the papers without even giving them a second look, send you a belittling text message or two, and move right along. You tried to make things as clean as possible. You hadn’t asked for a single thing—not his money, not his various properties, not his ridiculously expensive cars (yes, cars as in multiple), no valuables. Nothing.

Nothing.

Part of you knew better, though. He certainly would care that you were filing for divorce. He loved you. He loved you enough to marry you. He loved you enough to marry you without a prenup for fuck’s sake, going against any shred of common sense he had left. You had married into one of the wealthiest, most powerful families in New York. Did you really have the audacity, the gall to file for divorce from Roman Roy—the Roman Roy? You? You?

Roman loved you as much as he was capable of loving anyone. That wasn’t much by other people’s standards, but for him, that meant something. You loved him more than you had ever loved anyone, which by any sane person’s standards (and your own) seemed like a lot. And it was. But he had finally pushed you to your limit, and you were fed up.

And now you were suffering for it.

It was funny. In trying to make things as convenient and non-combative as possible, you had only made things harder on yourself. It wasn’t the divorce that Roman didn’t care about. It wasn’t you he didn’t care about. Of course not.

It was your boundaries. Roman didn’t pay any mind to those. He never could.

…which was why he had taken it upon himself to barge into your new apartment uninvited, at two o’ clock in the morning on a Tuesday. He arrived seconds after you returned home from a miserable night out, forcing open the door before you had even gotten the chance to take off your coat, turn around, and lock it. He had shoved the door open with such force that it hit you square in the back, making you stumble over your own two feet.

“Jesus, Roman!” You were breathing heavily, shaking from the adrenaline that accompanied someone sneaking up behind you and ramming into you full force.

“Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

🌃 Several years ago 🌃

Your boss is really kind of embarrassing.

There is an awkward, anxious energy to Kendall Roy that you cannot help but identify with. To those that didn’t know him, the “confidence” he tried so hard to embody probably came across as arrogant and idiotic—as if an incredibly affluent nepotism baby wasn’t unlikable enough.

But you did know him, at least to some extent. You had been his personal assistant for a little over a year. To you, Kendall seemed like the type of person that lied awake at night overthinking. He seemed like the type of person that practiced positive affirmations in the mirror every morning, and listened to podcasts hosted by hack motivational speakers in order to pump himself up. He seemed like the type of person to go all out on some fad juice cleanse with the intention of “reaching peak wellness,” only to smoke half a pack of cigarettes that same day in order to calm his nerves. His chief concern, apart from earning his father’s approval, was with making everyone think he was cool. Hip, if you will. But no matter how many designer suits or expensive sneakers he bought, to you, Kendall was a dad. A white collar dad, no less.

In other words, your boss was a dork.

He ruminated a lot, he talked a lot, he felt a lot. And why wouldn’t he? He was carrying the burden of a major media conglomerate like Waystar Royco on his back with very little support or guidance from anyone else. And in spite of his age, Kendall Roy seemed like he would do well with a bit of guidance.

“Hey, can I talk to you real quick?” he asked, peeking out from the doorway of his office. You turned to look at him as you hovered over the Keurig, which seemed to be malfunctioning. You had to hold back a sigh. To Kendall, “real quick” usually meant up to half an hour or longer. Typically, you didn’t mind talking to your boss, but you were feeling desperate for some prolonged silence and a heavy dose of caffeine. You had slept in later than intended, and in your discombobulated scramble to arrive to work on time, you had neglected to have the two cups you usually drank when you woke up. Yes, two.

Because working for a Roy was fucking exhausting.

As fair as he could be and as well as he paid you, your dynamic with your employer was this: when he said “jump,” you said “how high?” twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. You picked up takeout for him at all hours of the day and night, scheduled meetings—sat in on, took notes, and got yelled at in said meetings—fielded calls from people he did and didn’t want to deal with, ran whatever errand he could think of, and—although he didn’t want anyone else to know this—made sure he went to his AA meetings. He even asked you to pick his kids up from school a few times. You were starting to think that Kendall would pay you to breathe for him if he could.

“Yeah sure,” you said, trying your best not to sound exasperated.

Kendall was pretty perceptive when it came to your mood, however, and he barely stifled a laugh. “Don’t worry, I have one for you already. I bought it on my way here.”

“You got me coffee?”

“You mentioned that you like a good cappuccino, so.”

“Oh! Thanks, Ken. I really appreciate that,” you said, beaming.

He smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Your sense of gratitude quickly died down when you realized that this probably wasn’t good. It was generally never a good sign when Kendall gave you little peace offerings like this. The last time he bought you coffee, he was preemptively apologizing for piling a bunch of new job tasks on you; a direct result of firing most of your colleagues, including some of your favorite ones.

“Have a seat,” he said, sitting down at his desk, pushing the massive cup towards you. You cleared your throat and stepped into his office, closing the door behind you. “Sorry to call you in here right as you’re walking in. I just have a few things I want to go over with you.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

You didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Like he was nervous, like he knew something you didn’t, like what he was about to say would feel like pulling teeth—not only for him, but for you, too.

“Alright, um. So I wasn’t going to mention this to you because honestly, I think it might be…well, you might not…I’m not sure how it’s going to be received. And in my view, I mean. It’s not like that. I mean, I’m not like that. I’m not that guy. I promise, I’m really not! It’s just—”

“Ken?” you asked. His anxiety was rubbing off on you, giving you the urge to bite your nails.

He sighed. “I would never, ever want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking a big gulp of your cappuccino, made just the way you liked it. You had a feeling you were going to need it. He placed his head in his hand, his thumb and middle finger splaying across his forehead to touch his temples. “Ah god, I really shouldn’t do this,” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears. Was this really it? Was he firing you? Were you getting let go? Your mind was racing, trying to recall if you had done anything that warranted being kicked to the curb. Did you do anything even slightly detrimental to the company, anything at all? Did you even need to? Waystar Royco wasn’t exactly fair, or employee-friendly for that matter.

“Is everything okay?”

Your voice sounded just as pathetic as you felt.

“Yes. Well, sort of. No. Maybe.”

You were about to say something when Kendall’s eyes suddenly shifted towards something above you, and he covered his face with his palm dejectedly. And then you heard a loud banging noise, making you jump. You turned to see who was easily one of your least favorite people in the world: the obnoxious, antagonistic, arrogant, irritatingly well-dressed imbecile that was Roman Roy.

He slammed on the glass windows of Kendall’s office with both hands, making everyone nearby turn and stare. They all should have been relatively unfazed by this nonsense by now. On the days that he was actually at work, if Roman wasn’t being disruptive, there was something very wrong.

“Did he tell you?” he asked, his gaze honing in on you. His voice was somewhat muffled through the glass, but the volume at which he was speaking more than made up for it. His tone was half maniacally happy, half mocking. There was no other way to describe it. “Is he telling you? Is he telling you right now?”

“Jesus Christ, not this,” Kendall muttered.

“So, did you give her the good news?” Roman asked, shoving the door open so hard that it hit the wall, making the desk shake.

“Seriously, man?” Kendall groaned.

You suddenly felt hands clutching onto your shoulders from behind, making you seize up. You were hit with a wave of what had to be a laughably expensive cologne, but not a nice one. It was more sleazy than anything. ‘Drug dealer cologne’ were the words that popped into your head, if that was even a thing. ‘Creepy guy cologne.’ ‘Guy who thinks that just because he has money means that he can do anything he wants and get away with it cologne.’ To make matters worse, his hands were ice cold.

Like his soul. He leaned down to face you, and you reflexively jerked away. “So beautiful, did he give you the good news?”

“No!” Kendall snapped, attempting to reach over the desk and swat at him with a piece of paper. “Absolutely not. You cannot touch the employees. You know that I could fire you for sexual harrassment right now if I wanted to?”

Roman scoffed and rolled his eyes. He took his hands off of you, holding them out in front of him defensively. “So I’m guessing you didn’t tell her, then. Terrifying Ken, really. I’m quaking. How would I ever recover?”

“I already told you that wasn’t going to happen. Get out. You can hire your own assistant.”

What? “I’m sorry, what?” you asked, trying to avoid looking at Roman. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

Kendall looked at you and sighed. He was quiet for a few moments, like he was contemplating something. You surmised that he was probably just overwhelmed by his brother loudly barging into his office so early in the morning. “Overwhelming” was the perfect word to describe Roman’s presence, among other things. “Um, yeah. Yeah, of course. This. But it’s not happening, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Au contraire mon frère,” Roman said. “I’m COO now, remember? I need somebody to bring me coffee and pick up my drycleaning just the same as you.”

“So hire an assistant.”

“I am hiring an assistant.”

“Hire your own!”

“Oh, great idea, Ken! But oh, oh, you know what? You know what? It’s actually a really stupid fucking idea because I clearly said that I wanted your assistant. You might’ve understood that if you had been listening.”

In the midst of their little back and forth, you felt frozen. Even from only having just a handful of interactions with him, you hated Roman. You hated him when you knew of him, and you hated him when you met him. You already kind of hated working in the corporate world, but being able to afford to live in the city and having Kendall as a boss made it all at least somewhat bearable. If you had to be Roman’s assistant, it was over for you. There was no other option. You would have to quit your job. If you didn’t, you were in for the most demoralizing experience of your life.

Why was this even happening? You figured this situation had absolutely nothing to do with you, that there was some kind of underlying argument going on between Roman and Kendall and that you were just being used as a pawn in the game. You were a fairly decent assistant, but nothing remarkable. There was no reason why anyone would or should adamantly argue to hire you. It was crazy how people with money and power could change your entire livelihood on a whim.

“Besides, Kendall, you already have Jess. You don’t need two assistants, that’s diva behavior. And Dad already said I could. You won’t even notice that she’s gone.”

“Yeah?” Kendall mocked. “Really? You’re dicking my employee around just because Daddy said you could?”

“Ew,” Roman laughed. “Did you seriously just call our dad Daddy?”

“It was in a mocking tone!”

“Yeah, okay, Daddy.”

“Roman,” you interrupted. You knew you probably weren’t going to be able to level with him, but you had to try. If there was even a slight chance that you could remain in your current position and maintain your sanity, you were going to reach for it. “Kendall has me doing some seriously low-level tasks. That’s why he still has Jess. I’m basically an intern, I’m just here to learn. You’re probably going to want someone more experienced.”

Roman shook his head and tutted at you. “Aw, Ken. You’ve really got to keep your diminished sense of self-worth in check, it’s starting to rub off on your employees.”

“I’m going to talk to Dad, you are going to leave my staff alone, and we are going to hire you an assistant,” Kendall said slowly, as if he was talking to a child.

“Yeah, because Dad is always so willing to back you up, right? Old reliable. I’m sure that’ll work out great for you.”

The room was dead silent for the next few moments. They were doing that weird sibling thing where they were having a conversation just by looking at each other, a conversation you weren’t part of. Roman had struck a nerve, just as he knew he would.

“Did you wanna say something else, or?” Roman asked.

Kendall wouldn’t look at you, instead losing his staring contest with Roman to aimlessly move some things around on his desk.

And just like that, it was over. You were fucked.

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

[newbtheveryawesomeandkindanewby]

As I’m sure you know, Hazbin Hotel’s central character is the princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar. A lot of people have said a lot of things about her, but I’m here to touch on a subject that doesn’t get brought up much: her title.

Part 1: What does “Princess of Hell” really mean?

When most people think of princesses, they tend to imagine Disney ones. Fancy dresses, animal sidekicks, singing a lot, all that jazz. Charlie tends to engage in musical numbers, and she does have a few marketable pets, but her wardrobe is severely lacking. Clothes are an excellent way to signify a character’s job and status. If you put a character in a big sparkly dress, everybody looking at them will go “yep, that’s a princess.” So far, Charlie’s never worn one of those. Her main outfit is the suit-bow tie combo that Medrano just loves, making her feel like every other demon in the crowd.

Okay, maybe Earth and Hell are different in this regard. (Heh, that’d be a first.) Maybe high-status demons don’t wear fancy clothes! Except we’re forgetting one detail: the Goetias. They also use titles like “prince” and stuff, and they’re always dressed to impress! The one exception to this is Octavia, but that’s most likely because of her teenage angst, a trait Charlie doesn’t share.

While we’re talking about the Goetias, there’s another thing worth bringing up. As previously stated, they tend to use royal titles. Stolas is a prince, and he’s supposedly one of the less important ones! Stella’s a royal of some flavor, and that might not have even been through marriage! Compounding on this, the Deadly Sins are all stated to be the king/queen of their respective sin! Or have we forgotten Miss Queen Bee’s antics? With all these royals running around kissing and/or shooting each other, Charlie is once again lost in a crowd of standard Tumblrized monsters.

So maybe her royal title isn’t the important part. Maybe what really matters is that she’s Lucifer’s kid. Makes sense, right? Well, no. The purpose of an heir is to take control of their parental figure’s assets (Hell, in our case) after said parental figure kicks the bucket. This doesn’t work here, since Lucifer’s immortal! He sure ain’t goin’ anywhere! Historically, princesses were mostly just used as bargaining chips to marry off to other kingdoms in exchange for stuff. That really doesn’t work here, because in this show there are no other kingdoms! You really think the ruling powers in Heaven are gonna want their kids marrying some demon?

So now that we’ve established that the title ‘Princess of Hell’ is virtually meaningless, we reach my second point: why even have it?

Part 2: Why even have it?

As any good English teacher will tell you, everything within a story was done for a reason. Yet, Charlie being a princess serves no narrative purpose. She never uses her title to get what she wants, and everyone around her treats her exactly the same way they’d treat any other demon. You could say it was to introduce Lucifer more organically into the story, but there’s other ways to do that.

One of the many, many aspects of storytelling that Medrano struggles with is the act of killing your darlings. What that means is, if something in your story isn’t doing much and thus has no reason to exist, get rid of it, no matter how much you like it. Viv’s inability to do this is the reason everything she writes has so damn many characters, and by extension why almost none of them are remotely interesting. A character being the Devil’s daughter sounds interesting, but if the writers can’t make it interesting, they shouldn’t do it. 

So, why did Viv make Charlie a princess? Here’s my theory; writers want their main characters to be relatable to general audiences, and Viv must’ve forgotten that general audiences aren’t composed of upper-class white women whose every need and want is supplied by their affluent parents. To the rest of us, such a character risks invoking that very worst of writing tropes. I won’t type it right here, but it has seven letters and sounds like hairy stew. 

[thederangedsolicitor]

Something I find impressive about Arknights is how casually based it can be, for lack of a better term - it's just a fact of life that the police serve the affluent in the name of their own self-interest. It doesn't need a big arc establishing the unique degeneracy of the police system, it's just like, true.

The latest crossover event had a similar moment, where it's just taken for granted that a government fire safety inspection can be used as a cover to deliberately undermine marginalized communities, who lack the means to comprehensively match those legalistic standards in the first place.