#and then we're undecided on the rest

[upwards-descent]

I'm so tempted to post my final Grumpuses once I have everyone fully transformed, my partner and I are so dedicated we're planning out everyone's theme and everything

[fumiliar]

when you were offered a job back at jujutsu high, you undecided. on one hand, you loved jujutsu high. on the other hand, your worst enemy was there, the blue eyed bitch, satoru gojo.

breaking up with satoru gojo was the worst thing to happen in to you in your teenage years. he was your first kiss, first boyfriend, first love, first to hold hands with, your first date, he took all of it, not leaving a single first to be left. so when he dumped you out of nowhere, you were absolutely destroyed. the rest of your senior year, you spent moping around the school, like a zombie.

it took alot of convincing from shoko, but in the end, you decided to accept the offer and start a new job. so when you arrived to jujutsu high, you avoided gojo at all costs. taking the long way to go somewhere just to avoid meeting gojo, calling in sick just to avoid having one on one interactions with the man. but the predicament you were in currently, being trapped between gojo's arms, you didn't know how to avoid him.

"y/n," gojo called out your name as if it was the only word he knew.

"yes. gojo," a grimace appeared on his face, gojo? he hated that name and you knew that.

"don't call me gojo, satoru at least."

"i don't think we're close enough to be on a first name basis."

"y/n, please..." he looked at you with his iconic puppy eyes, making sure to make them as big and sad as possible. however, you were immune, your hatred towards him beating every emotion that tried to overtake you.

"y/n, don't ignore me."

"i don't think you deserve my attention."

"don't be petty y/n, let's be adults."

petty. petty? oh you lost it

"i'm petty?" you pointed at yourself. "i should be an adult? fuck off gojo, eat shit," you pushed his hand away storming off. okay, maybe it was a little childish, all this hide and seek, but gojo knew better than to say that straight to your face. he knew.

gojo was exasperated, he didn't know what else to do. you were ignoring him even more since the incident, at least you used to have the decency to greet him. it was starting to get really bad, even the students started to notice. and that's when you finally decided to talk to the man. you pulled him into the janitors closet, quickly shushing the man.

"i'll be civil with you, but i do not like you," you pointed a finger at gojo. "i. do. not. like. you," nudging the finger to his chest at every word. but when you saw gojo's face, he was delighted, smiling widely.

"i'll leave first, you leave in 5 minutes. okay?" gojo nodded. "i don't want any rumours," you went to leave the janitor's closet, gojo following you out without you realising. and there they were, yuji, megumi, and nobara.

"hi ms.l/n...." the students greeting you. "and mr.gojo?" all 3 of them, mainly nobara snickering at the sight of you and gojo leaving the closet together.

oh you were gonna kill him

[mostlysignssomeportents]

When prophecy fails, election polling edition

In Canto 20 of Inferno, Dante confronts a pit where the sinners have had their heads twisted around backwards; they trudge, naked and weeping, through puddles of cooling tears. Virgil informs him that these are the fortunetellers, who tried to look forwards in life and now must look backwards forever.

In a completely unrelated subject, how about those election pollsters, huh?

Writing for The American Prospect, historian Rick Perlstein takes a hard look at characteristic failure modes of election polling and ponders their meaning:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-09-25-polling-imperilment/

Apart from the pre-election polling chaos we're living through today, Perlstein's main inspiration is W Joseph Campbell 2024 University of California Press book, Lost in a Gallup: Polling Failure in US Presidential Elections:

https://www.ucpress.edu/books/lost-in-a-gallup/paper

In Campbell's telling, US election polling follows a century-old pattern: pollsters discover a new technique that works spookily well..for a while. While the new polling technique works, the pollster is hailed a supernaturally insightful fortune-teller.

In 1932, the Raleigh News and Observer was so impressed with polling by The Literary Digest that they proposed replacing elections with Digest's poll. The Digest's innovation was sending out 20,000,000 postcards advertising subscriptions and asking about presidential preferences. This worked perfectly for three elections – 1924, 1928, and 1932. But in 1936, the Digest blew it, calling the election for Alf Landon over FDR.

The Digest was dethroned, and new soothsayers were appointed: George Gallup, Elmo Roper and Archibald Crossler, who replaced the Digest's high-volume polling with a new kind of poll, one that sought out a representative slice of the population (as Perlstein says, this seems "so obvious in retrospect, you wonder how nobody thought of it before").

Representative polling worked so well that, three elections later, the pollsters declared that they could predict the election so well from early on that there was no reason to keep polling voters. They'd just declare the winner after the early polls were in and take the rest of the election off.

That was in 1948 – you know, 1948, the "Dewey Defeats Truman" election?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dewey_Defeats_Truman

If this sounds familiar, perhaps you – like Perlstein – are reminded of the 2016 election, where Fivethirtyeight and Nate Silver called the election for Hillary Clinton, and we took them at their word because they'd developed a new, incredibly accurate polling technique that had aced the previous two elections.

Silver's innovation? Aggregating state polls, weighting them by accuracy, and then producing a kind of meta-poll that combined their conclusions.

When Silver's prophecy failed in 2016, he offered the same excuse that Gallup gave in 1948: when voters are truly undecided, you can't predict how they'll vote, because they don't know how they'll vote.

Which, you know, okay, sure, that's right. But if you know that the election can't be called, if you know that undecided voters are feeding noise into the system whenever you poll them, then why report the polls at all? If all the polling fluctuation is undecided voters flopping around, not making up their mind, then the fact that candidate X is up 5 points with undecided means nothing.

As the finance industry disclaimer has it, "past performance is no guarantee of future results." But, as Perlstein says, "past performance is all a pollster has to go on." When Nate Silver weights his model in favor of a given poll, it's based on that poll's historical accuracy, not its future accuracy, because its future accuracy can't be determined until it's in the past. Like Dante's fortune-tellers, pollsters have to look backwards even as they march forwards.

Of course, it doesn't help that in some cases, Silver was just bad at assessing polls for accuracy, like when he put polls from the far-right "shock pollster" Trafalgar Group into the highly reliable bucket. Since 2016, Trafalgar has specialized in releasing garbage polls that announce that MAGA weirdos are way ahead, and because they always say that, they were far more accurate than the Clinton-predicting competition in 2016 when they proclaimed that Trump had it in the bag. For Silver, this warranted an "A-" on reliability, and that is partially to blame for how bad Silver's 2020 predictions were, when Republicans got pasted, but Trafalgar continued to predict a Democratic wipeout. Silver's methodology has a huge flaw: because Trafalgar's prediction history began in 2016, that single data-point made them look pretty darned reliable, even though their method was to just keep saying the same thing, over and over:

https://www.ettingermentum.news/p/the-art-of-losing-a-fivethirtyeight

Pollsters who get lucky with a temporarily reliable methodology inevitably get cocky and start cutting corners. After all, polling is expensive, so discontinuing the polls once you think you have an answer is a way to increase the enterprise's profitability. But, of course, pollsters can only make money so long as they're somewhat reliable, which leads to a whole subindustry of excuse-making when this cost-cutting bites them in the ass. In 1948, George Gallup blamed his failures on the audience, who failed to grasp the "difference between forecasting an election and picking the winner of a horse race." In 2016, Silver declared that he'd been right because he'd given Trump at 28.6% chance of winning.

This isn't an entirely worthless excuse. If you predict that Clinton's victory is 71.4% in the bag, you are saying that Trump might win. But pollsters want to eat their cake and have it, too: when they're right, they trumpet their predictive accuracy, without any of the caveats they are so insistent upon when they blow it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jDlo7YfUxc

There's always some excuse when it comes to the polls: in 1952, George Gallup called the election a tossup, but it went for Eisenhower in a landslide. He took out a full-page NYT ad, trumpeting that he was right, actually, because he wasn't accounting for undecided voters.

Polling is ultimately a form of empiricism-washing. The pollster may be counting up poll responses, but that doesn't make the prediction any less qualitative. Sure, the pollster counts responses, but who they ask, and what they do with those responses, is purely subjective. They're making guesses (or wishes) about which people are likely to vote, and what it means when someone tells you they're undecided. This is at least as much an ideological project as it is a scientific one:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-09-23-polling-whiplash/

But for all that polling is ideological, it's a very thin ideology. When it comes to serious political deliberation, questions like "who is likely to vote" and "what does 'undecided' mean" are a lot less important than, "what are the candidates promising to do?" and "what are the candidates likely to do?"

But – as Perlstein writes – the only kind of election journalism that is consistently, adequately funded is poll coverage. As a 1949 critic put it, this isn't the "pulse of democracy," it's "its baby talk."

Today, Tor Books publishes VIGILANT, a new, free LITTLE BROTHER story about creepy surveillance in distance education. It follows SPILL, another new, free LITTLE BROTHER novella about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/26/dewey-beats-truman/#past-performance-is-no-guarantee-of-future-results

[deliciousangelfestival]

We're Not Okay - 2

Character: Bucky x veterinarian!Female Reader

Summary: Two people, each carrying their own trauma, find themselves in a place where they can begin to heal their wounds and mend their hearts together.

Words Count: 3,400

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

After witnessing the strangest thing last night, you struggled to sleep once you returned to your room. The morning light crept in, and despite the restless night, you felt oddly well-rested. You made your way to the dining room, where you spotted Dr. Jane Foster, the other veterinarian at the conservation.

Jane, who also owned the place, had been a scientist before falling in love with animals—thanks to the influence of her husband, Thor Odinson. Thor, the tallest man you’d ever met and full of boundless energy, traveled across the country to rescue and care for animals.

Jane smiled and waved for you to sit beside her. You joined her at the table, and she leaned in with curiosity.

“So, I heard we got a new guest,” she said, referring to your latest arrival.

“Yup,” you replied, nodding. A flicker of realization crossed your face as you remembered Bucky hadn’t shown up for breakfast.

At that moment, Mandy, the cook, appeared with your usual breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, and potato wedges with mayonnaise on the side. She set the plate down without a word.

“Thanks, Mandy,” you said warmly.

She gave you a brief nod, her face as impassive as ever. Mandy wasn’t one for talking, but her actions spoke volumes. The fact that she brought you food without waiting for you to ask made you feel appreciated. She added in her thick Russian accent, “The new kid already grabbed his food and went outside.”

You paused mid-motion, the forkful of scrambled eggs hovering just before your mouth. “Really?” Turning in your seat, you glanced toward the window. Sure enough, Bucky was sitting in front of the wolf’s cage—the same as last night.

Quickly finishing your breakfast and draining your glass of water, you stood. “Sorry, Jane, I need to talk to him.”

“Go ahead,” Jane said with an understanding smile before taking another sip of her coffee.

Grabbing your winter jacket from the coat rack, you slipped it on as you headed for the door. The chill in the air hit you instantly, and you frowned when you noticed Bucky wasn’t wearing a jacket. Didn’t he feel the cold?

The thought worried you. If anything happened to him, the conservation could lose its much-needed sponsor. As you got closer, you saw Bucky sitting cross-legged on the ground, his gaze locked with the white wolf’s. You hesitated, watching the scene unfold. The wolf, normally skittish and aggressive, seemed at peace—almost transfixed by him.

How was he doing that?

You’d been treating the wolf ever since she arrived, but no matter what you did, she remained guarded and wary. Yet here she was, calm in Bucky’s presence.

Quietly, you approached them, your boots crunching softly against the frozen ground. Without saying a word, you draped your jacket over Bucky’s shoulders. He flinched slightly at the sudden weight but didn’t turn to look at you.

“She trusts you,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Bucky’s head dipped slightly, and his jaw tensed as though he hadn’t realized anyone was there. His first instinct seemed to be leaving—his posture stiffened, and he made a slight movement to rise.

“Wait,” you said quickly, holding up your hands in a gesture of peace. “I don’t know why you’re afraid of me. Please… stay.”

He froze, his expression guarded, but his body relaxed ever so slightly. Though he didn’t move, it was clear he was still undecided. You noticed his shoulders shift as if weighing your words, but something made him stay rooted in place.

You took a cautious step closer, keeping your tone soft. “I’ve worked with her for months, and she’s never let her guard down like this. Not for anyone… except you.”

His eyes flicked toward you briefly before returning to the wolf. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give you hope.

“It’s nice to see her looking more lively,” you said, gesturing to the wolf. “Do you want to help me feed her?”

Bucky’s expression softened, and for the first time, his eyes lit up. He nodded.

You grabbed a small bucket of food and motioned for him to follow. Together, you entered the enclosure, your boots crunching softly against the frozen ground. The wolf’s ears perked up slightly, but she stayed calm, her trust in Bucky unwavering.

As you worked, the sound of laughter carried over from a group of volunteers by the sea lion pen. Their cheerful voices and playful banter created a sharp contrast to the quiet atmosphere surrounding you and Bucky.

He glanced toward the volunteers, his steps slowing. You noticed the way his gaze lingered on them—on their laughter, their freedom. His longing was almost tangible, though he said nothing.

Pausing by the wolf, you broke the silence. “Everyone here seems so carefree,” you began, crouching down to check the wolf’s injured leg. “But we all have something in common.” You glanced at him. “Just like you.”

Bucky’s eyes shifted toward you, quiet but attentive.

You straightened and nodded toward Steve, a blonde volunteer who was currently lobbing a snowball at one of the others. “See him? He ran away from home because his father abused him.”

Then you gestured toward Natasha, the red-haired girl dodging the snowball with a grin. “And her—don’t be fooled by her friendliness. She’s trained in martial arts. She came here after breaking her ankle in a fight, which ruined her career and crushed her spirit.”

“And me,” you added quietly.

The air grew still. You hesitated, then met Bucky’s gaze.

“I’m what you’d call a bargain kid,” you said, a bitter edge in your voice. “My mom was a prostitute at the club my father owned. When I got older, I went looking for her, thinking I’d find some kind of connection. But reality doesn’t work that way. She didn’t even acknowledge me—just saw me as a way to get a green card.”

You paused, the weight of your words hanging between you. “This is why I prefer animals. Did you know a duck will adopt orphaned ducklings without a second thought?” You glanced at him with a faint smile.

Bucky’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing together. He didn’t respond, but his silence didn’t feel empty. You knew he was listening.

“How can a mother not want to meet her own daughter?” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

He remained quiet, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of understanding and something you couldn’t quite name.

You straightened and continued, your tone softening. “What I’m trying to say is… it’s not just you who’s been hurt here. All of us look okay on the outside, but we’re carrying deep wounds too.” You held his gaze. “I hope you don’t feel like an outcast. Just try—a little.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The white wolf nudged her nose against Bucky’s hand, drawing your attention back to her. Her gentle persistence seemed to be asking for more food. Bucky obliged, reaching into the bucket and handing her another piece.

You crossed your arms and smirked. “I’m so jealous,” you said, watching the wolf’s trust in him.

Bucky glanced at you, a faint flicker of a smile ghosting across his lips before it disappeared again.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

As time passed, the sky grew darker, and everyone gathered in the dining room. The warm glow of the lights reflected a sense of comfort as you entered and spotted Thor seated beside his wife, Jane. His large presence was hard to miss, his booming laugh echoing through the space.

You approached their table, a friendly smile on your face. “Thor, Jane,” you greeted. “Did you guys bring your son with you?”

Thor grinned broadly. “Yup, we did,” he replied, then paused, glancing around. “Wait… where is he?”

Before anyone could answer, the sound of a child crying filled the room. Mandy appeared at the doorway, holding the hand of a tearful Tom. The seven-year-old’s cheeks were red, and his cries were loud enough to draw attention.

“Huwaaah!” Tom sobbed as Mandy guided him forward.

Thor’s expression softened immediately, and he stood, scooping his son up effortlessly and placing him on his broad shoulder. “What made my big man cry, huh?” he asked, gently bouncing Tom to cheer him up.

Tom sniffled, his small hands gripping Thor’s shoulder. He pouted dramatically, his lip jutting out as he glanced between you and Jane. “I got ignored,” he said, his voice wobbling.

“Who ignored you?” Jane asked, her brows furrowing slightly as she reached out to smooth Tom’s hair.

Tom pointed with a small finger in the direction of the door. “Him. When I asked if I could touch the wolf.”

Thor’s booming laugh filled the room. “Buddy, I told you the wolf was off-limits,” he said, ruffling Tom’s hair affectionately.

Before Tom could argue, the dining room door swung open, and a gust of cold air swept inside, making everyone shiver. Standing in the doorway was Bucky, his figure silhouetted against the dim light outside.

Tom’s eyes widened in recognition. “That’s him! He ignored me!” he declared, pointing at Bucky with a glare.

The three adults exchanged glances, unsure how to approach the situation. None of them dared to criticize Bucky outright, given that he was the primary sponsor of the conservation.

Bucky’s gaze shifted to Tom. He hesitated, then slowly pulled out his phone. After a moment of typing, he turned the screen toward the boy. The message read: “I’m sorry.”

You stepped in to ease the tension, crouching slightly to Tom’s level. “Tom, his name is Bucky. And he can’t speak,” you explained gently.

Tom’s face fell in realization. He blinked, unsure how to process the information. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

Bucky shook his head and began typing again. When he finished, he held the phone up for Tom to see. “It’s okay. Do you want to play with the wolf tomorrow?”

Tom’s expression lit up. “I can?” he asked, his earlier tears forgotten.

Bucky nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You blinked in surprise. Bucky inviting Tom to interact with the wolf was unexpected. Then, he turned toward Thor and Jane, typing another message. He held the phone out to them: “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But you can call me Bucky. I’m sorry for the late introduction. Nice to meet you.”

Thor’s grin widened, and he extended a hand. “Same here, Bucky. Nice to meet you!” he said, his voice booming with warmth.

Jane gave Bucky a kind smile. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said softly.

With the formalities done, Bucky nodded politely before moving toward another table. His steps were hesitant at first, but as the volunteers murmured their quiet greetings and understanding glances, he seemed to relax.

You watched him from a distance, your heart feeling lighter. The change in Bucky’s demeanor was subtle but meaningful. It was as though the morning conversation between you had nudged him toward opening up, even if only a little.

You smiled faintly, reassured. It wasn’t just about keeping your promise to the Barnes family. Deep down, you also hoped that Bucky could heal from his pain.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

The next morning, Bucky kept his promise and brought Tom to see the white wolf. To everyone’s amazement, the wolf, usually wary and reserved, behaved almost like a domesticated dog. Her tail wagged gently, and she let Tom stroke her fur without flinching.

You stood nearby, watching in disbelief. “That’s… pretty impossible,” you muttered under your breath. “She’s a wild animal.” Yet, here she was, acting as though she’d known Bucky and Tom forever.

Tom giggled, his small hands brushing over the wolf’s soft coat. “She’s so nice! Can I name her?” he asked excitedly.

Bucky gave him a slight nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Before you could respond, the static buzz of your walkie-talkie interrupted the moment. A voice crackled through, tense and urgent: “We’ve got a situation. The red panda is missing.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and pressed the button. “Understood. I’m on it.”

Bucky turned his gaze to you, his eyes sharp with curiosity and concern. The subtle lift of his brow asked the question his voice couldn’t: What’s going on?

You glanced at him. “It happens more than you’d think. People try to steal exotic animals all the time,” you explained, your tone heavy with resignation.

As if on cue, Thor appeared, striding purposefully out of the building with a shotgun slung over his shoulder. His jaw was set, and his expression radiated determination. He climbed into the driver’s seat of a rugged SUV, clearly ready for action.

You turned to Bucky. “Could you take Tom back to Mandy?”

Bucky nodded without hesitation. His gaze shifted to Tom, and with a small gesture, he guided the boy toward the dining hall.

You crouched to Tom’s eye level before they left, your voice softening. “Your dad’s going to catch the bad guys so fast, you won’t even have time to miss me,” you said with a wink.

Tom nodded, wide-eyed but reassured, gripping Bucky’s hand as they walked away.

With a deep breath, you straightened and sprinted toward Thor’s vehicle. The cold morning air stung your lungs, but you didn’t slow down. Jumping into the passenger seat, you barely had time to buckle in before Thor hit the gas, the SUV roaring to life.

A sense of urgency filled the air as the vehicle sped down the dirt road. You were fully focused on the mission, driven by your love for the animals and your determination to protect them.

Meanwhile, back near the enclosure, Bucky paused. His steps slowed as he watched you disappear into the distance, your figure growing smaller as you ran toward danger without hesitation. Something about your selflessness struck him deeply.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky felt an unfamiliar spark. A desire to act—not out of obligation, but out of a need to help, to protect.

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

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[malleleothreesome]

Fellow Honest Drunken Confession Feat. Playful Land Cast

(Ch.1 & Ch.2)

🌟 summary: Rewriting the end of Playful Land event where instead of Fellow Honest running away, he tries to convince you and your classmates to go out drinking with him. Cause he's super into you. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW so far (undecided on the end), fluff, romance. This is a slice of life comedy. You're just gonna have to go into it blind. Take my word for it. You're gonna love it. If you don't, don't tell me. All characters assumed to be of legal drinking age besides Gidel. ༶༶༶ 🌟 inspired by: this ask from @omo-kitty thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

🌟 song: Trust Fund "Oh, where, oh, where is my trust fund? Why can't I get ahead? 'Cause I have to work My daddy's such a jerk For not givin' me all his cash" ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 4.7k

Fellow Honest lets out an exasperated sigh, perched next to you and your classmates as the massive cruise ship that housed Playfulland amusement park sinks into the ocean’s abyss. With his hands clasped behind his head, a carefree grin lights up his face. 

"You know what?" He asks, turning to you. 

His fox ears twitch atop his head as a salty breeze sifts through his orange hair. Night was encroaching, a half moon suspended in the starry sky, pale and glowing. You stare back into his face, noting the visible points of his fangs, and the tip of his curly orange tail swishing happily. 

Fellow winks as he laughs his signature haughty cackle. "Do you want to grab a drink sometime?"

Ace Trappola perks up at the mention of alcohol and barrels forward, face beaming with naivety. "Hey, free drinks? You're talking to the right person, Man. You gonna let us drink free? I mean, it's like, the least you could do for trying to traffic us, am I right?" 

Trey Clover hisses, “Ace!!!” in a desperate (and failed) attempt to shut him up. 

Fellow regards the spectacle with the blankest of stares, his ear flicking as a whisper of a wince flickers across his visage.

The monster of a man tilts his head and smiles slyly to you—and only you. 

His eyes sweep you up and down as he croons, "just you and me, Hot Stuff. We're talking romantic, steamy even. We’re connected… don't deny it. Whaddaya say?" 

Fellow steps closer, tongue running along his canines as he looks you up and down with a cheeky grin and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You, me, alone, drinking, talking... I'll be real good to you—I'm an honest guy! All my business is legit now!" 

He throws his head back, and with a flourish of his arms, roars with a particularly raucous laughter. Upon composing himself, his piercing orange eyes turn sharp, and he flashes you another lecherous look. A smirk plays on the corner of his lips, an eyebrow rises suggestively. Fellow leans to whisper in your ear, lingering in the electricity of your aura a bit too long before speaking. You shiver. 

His voice drops to a low, suggestive purr as hot breath grazes your neck, "but, if you like, a little bit naughty ain't out of the question... "

Before you can respond, Ace—unable to be subdued by Trey—makes his way back over and elbows you in the arm. As clueless as ever, his freckled cheeks flush bright pink from excitement. 

"Free drinks, Bro! He's an underworld mobster, Dude—a high ranking one—we'll be VIPs anywhere we go. We’ll be sipping absolute top shelf… not that gross, warm piss from a barrel everyone else gets!" 

Ace is giving the performance of his lifetime, gripping his heart and holding out his arms in utter theatrics, then leaning heavily on your shoulder. 

"Free… top shelf… liquor!" Ace shouts to the rest of your classmates, waving them over.

Fellow's eyebrow elevates further, threatening to leave the confines of his forehead. His eyes remain dead, cold. His tail, for once, stays perfectly still, frozen in an upright arch. When his lips part in a rigid smile and his shoulders begin to shake, a venomous displeasure radiates from him, palpable enough for you to feel on your own skin. Out of his mouth spills a jumble of fragmented curse words and giggles. You look at him in mild alarm, unsure if he has finally reached a state of losing his goddamn mind, or if he's about to commit a violent murder—starting with Ace.

Fellow holds up both gloved palms, covering his face. Slowly shaking his head, he doubles over, wiping away tears of hysteria in an uproarious guffaw. You are stunned, staring as Fellow wheezes and struggles to get ahold of his faculties. 

Catching his breath, he throws back his head and bellows with unrestrained joy, "The sheer audacity! The unmitigated gumption of this fool—oh my GOD.”

In a valiant effort to calm himself, he holds up his hands, as if praying, a wicked grin plastered across his face. Ace squints suspiciously at his antics, still totally clueless to Fellow's intent. Trey shakes his head slowly, rubbing his face in abject defeat, looking as if he's willing his brain to purge the trauma of ever coming to this place. 

Fellow breathes deeply. "Sorry, sorry, it's just funny, oh my God. Wow. He has some balls on him, I'll give him that! I really admire the gall. You know what? This brat might have a career in the biz." The fox beastman reaches out and condescendingly ruffles Ace's head of red hair.

"Alright, tough guy. Yeah, let's go get boozed. And hey, little Bastard—" his fiendish grin takes a more sinister tone, fangs slightly exposed. "Just so you know, if your pathetic college didn't send that sweetheart…” He winks suggestively at you, before his eyes wander across the crowd of students, utterly unimpressed, “I'd never be letting any of you idiots go. No way! I’d have dragged each of you back to my boss by force. Don't test my generosity or my kindness." 

Smirking, he shoves his finger into Ace's face, leaning towards him with intent to intimidate.

Fellow takes a sharp inhale and clasps his hands shut. "Now, just for fun, let's get liquored up on the highest rooftop bar, play some poker, do a little dancing..." His eyes flit back over to you— "...maybe some smooches, hey?" A foxy yip punctuates his sentence. His eyes return back to Ace, whose lips are pressed in a firm, disapproving line. Fellow's eyebrow twitches with delight as he takes in Ace's defiance, biting his lip for a second so as not to cackle.

"There isn't going to be any 'VIP treatment,' 'free drinks,’ or 'top shelf.' Is that clear? Who do you think I am? You think I like doing that type of shit?" 

He points to the water, gesturing to the decimated remnants of the amusement park. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Kid, people don't do those types of jobs because they're loaded.” 

He leans down to get eye level with Ace, using expressive jazz hands and a pompous voice. “'Oh, man, my yacht's all paid off and ready, better become a goddamn kidnapping organ trafficker—oh, the glamor! The luxury!' Do you understand what I'm saying, you dinky little shit?"

You can't help it—you burst out laughing. His grin returns full force, and he winks at you knowingly. He looks back to your classmates, and you consider his movements. The pure self-assurance in his stride, his careless and brazen attitude, his cheeky cockiness—intricate pieces of exactly what drew you to him initially. While his irreverence for any societal construct has both scared and enamored you, the sheer madness he exhibits on a regular basis is so addictive. How could you deny a guy with this level of audacity? You really, really want to give it a whirl—experiment with what might be if you throw caution to the wind.

His smile grows, noting the chagrin across your classmate's faces. Fellow gestures dramatically once more, his gloved hands clawing through the air, his gesticulations growing increasingly overzealous as he waxes poetic on the harsh realities of adult life. 

"So, listen up. Listen very carefully. Picture this: I'm poor. I'm scrappy. I was homeless. I don't even own the suit you're seeing right now! My clothes are stolen off the street." His expression darkens, ears and tail drooping, shoulders slumped, and head lowered. For a fleeting, transitory instant, there's an indiscernible emotion that flickers through his eyes—something genuine that betrays his frivolity. "That boy is the only family I have, and we've got nothing to our name."

He stares forward at something only he can see, his gaze boring a hole into the horizon. It is a wistful, haunted gaze, a longing and lost memory in his eyes, a sad sigh that drifts on a gentle summer breeze, lost within its dreams. "Not a single thing. Just the two of us, struggling and barely making ends meet, scraping by in this horrible, unforgiving, greedy world that cares not for the innocent and goodhearted folk. We need to be greedy. Selfish, if we want to keep each other safe. So, excuse me for being just a tad on the offensive side, you entitled fucking brats! I had to be the strongest so I could support the both of us. You truly know nothing about suffering—this isn't a pretty life to have and it isn't fair, yet, what can you do? Adapt, or die. There is no romanticism about hunger, about living like animals, constantly scrambling for scraps of food like the world is a bottomless garbage can and you are its filthiest dog." The sardonic chuckle he gives isn't unkind, merely tinged with bittersweet longing. You reach a hand out, resting it on his shoulder, and his fingers close over it with a soft caress.

There's a touch of vulnerability in his eyes, and his words strike a cord that resonates deeply within your soul. Though it hurts and grieves you, his explanation was enough for you—a starting point of understanding, as you accept him exactly for who he is. You see beyond the facade—the sheer intensity of the desperation that underlines his words and actions, that hollowness within him that yearns for more than the world can provide. 

Fellow seemed to awaken with greater purpose when you looked into his soul and told him he didn't have to do bad things. Something shifts in his eyes as he considers new paths. You see the stitches holding his tattered spirit together loosen slightly, revealing glimpses of his raw wounds, the aches and scars that he buries with sarcasm and callousness. His vibrant, intelligent, playful nature deserves more—his life isn't meant to be wasted, yet he feels as if that's precisely what he has done, resigning himself to this existence of bitter hatred against the world. When you meet his gaze, you feel a tenderness blooming in the chilly winter frost of his chest, like the first glimpse of spring. At last, you can sense the farce crumble, and the real Fellow taking shape underneath. You wish you could spend the rest of the evening talking to him. 

Fellow's fingers remain intertwined with yours as the moment passes and his flirtation returns. There is an uncanny ease with which the man is able to keep his expression blank while swapping personalities, as if each identity is a costume he wears as long as it suits him. A fleeting look of sadness drifts over him before being replaced by his cheeky, foxy smirk. He reasserts the cocky, irreverent demeanor—his favorite cloak. His orange eyes flit towards yours before gazing into the crowd of your classmates. You squeeze his palm reassuringly, and he beams down at you with gratitude. His finger swipes across your cheek, gently brushing it.

Fellow smiles his carefree smile, but there's a warmth and gentleness behind his orange gaze now. 

"All that being said,'' the beastman claps his hands together, grinning widely and putting on another showman's performance, "I bet I could do a little persuading to get us some free booze. We're going drinking, my new friends!" He throws his hands up jovially. 

A chorus of voices in front of him ring out in dissonance at the thought, except for Ace—who is whooping and hollering triumphantly, and Kalim, who is cheering in earnest. Before the rest of your classmates have time to voice their objections, Fellow shouts out, pointing at everyone, a finger dramatically extending in the air.

"Ah, ah ah—none of your whining and sniveling bullshit, you snot-nosed punklings. We're all getting our rocks off tonight and it's on me. Consider this the apology tour for almost making you all... well, go into involuntary servitude, to put it lightly." 

The corner of his lips twitch as his orange eyes scan the crowd for recognition, yet remain friendly despite his teasing. 

"Besides, a celebration is due! What I learned tonight was so startling to me—I did not foresee myself going down an honest path, a career in helping the helpless. This is truly life-altering, and it's all thanks to you folks." 

Another moment of vulnerability flickers in his eyes and his mouth is slack, letting the raw honesty and realization of change settle. A stunned silence from the crowd ensues.

Flailing his arms wildly to keep up and air of lightheartedness, Fellow huffs, the first signs of exertion finally showing. He was beaten up pretty badly while trying to detain your classmates, after all. He continues his pitch. 

"Of course, no hard feelings or anything. Just a nice fun night, free drinks, music, laughter—how could any of you possibly turn down such a gift?" 

With a grin and a gesture to the amusement park's busted entrance gate, he declares his final verdict. 

"It is your final day off before a lifetime of school, study, stress and commitment to society—your youth is ending, friends. Embrace this wonderful last sunset of freedom—because by tomorrow, we will all be under the yoke of labor, spending our lives slaving away to pay rent while we deal with taxes and the true horror of capitalism! At least, those without trust funds, right? Hah." 

Once more, your classmates all clamor with protests. 

"Like Hell I’m goin’ out drinking with that guy! Don't take orders from that shady jackass," Leona roars through the crowd.

Fellow’s scowls, tail swishing vehemently back and forth. 

"Ya just met him yesterday and he was about to sell us all off! Does a sociopath's Nice Guy act not make you the least bit suspicious or even nervous? Don't fall for it. No one's that forgivin' or stupid." Leona stares coldly at the conman with an indignant sniff as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Vil stands with his arms crossed as well, but his posture and expression exude boredom as he blows out an annoyed exhale, visibly judging his idiot classmates. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with Leona once again," he chimes in, ignoring the aggravated huff from the Savanaclaw dorm leader. "Our kidnapper is insistent on buying us drinks? Who does that?! Clearly, this guy has something up his sleeve." Vil clicks his tongue derisively, and flicks his purple hair over his shoulder in dismission.

Floyd, ignoring the forewarnings entirely, throws his arms up happily. He bellows, "hell yeah! What's better than a night of heavy partying to lighten up the mood, right? Bring it on. There's alcohol involved? It’s free? I’m in." He giggles maniacally, wrapping an arm around Fellow to pull him in for an enthusiastic noogie (and completely ignoring the pained squeaks coming out of the conman's mouth). Floyd’s twin brother, Jade, grins in agreement to the proposal.

Trey adjusts his glasses nervously, brows knitting and mouth stuck in a grimace. He opens mouth and closes his mouth a few times before suggesting, with trepidation, “it is... quite unusual for him to take us out drinking all of a sudden... are we sure this isn't some sort of trap, or a game, or—"

Trey is cut off by a loud groan from Ace. "Weren't you guys paying attention?!" Ace shakes his head rapidly and scoffs with derision. "He's obviously trying to get into Y/n's pants! The guy's totally thirsty! How are you not seeing this? He was checking Y/n out when he was doing all that crazy shit in the amusement park." 

A tense moment of silence falls across your class as they turn their heads towards you, eyeing you with surprise. "He's been hitting on the prefect this entire time! His weird-ass obsession is for real—no joke or scam. He's interested, I know it when I see it. He knows Y/n's not gonna go unless he takes all of us. So, like... yes, of course I'm into free beer!" 

Ace's red eyes gleam like he's just discovered the polio vaccine, proud of his insightfulness and intellect. The other students look back and forth between you and the notorious criminal fox beastman, noting his nonplussed smirk, calm tail wagging, and the way in which his ears prick up in excitement at the conversation about you.

Another uncomfortable moment passes. Your cheeks feel warm, knowing everyone's eyes are still on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them. 

Kalim claps his hands together and chirps, "oh yeah, come to think of it, he does seem like he's super fond of you! All his cute talk and that sparkle he gets in his eyes when he looks at you and listens to your every word—he clearly really, really likes you, Y/n! That's totally awesome you found someone special in such a dark place!" 

Kalim is—almost comically—unaffected by Fellow's unsavory reputation. "And isn't it great if he's truly starting down a righteous path instead of being a bad criminal who hurts and steals from people? We've got to support him, this could be his fresh start! We're his friends, and that's what friends are for—they help each other out. We'll save him from evil!" 

Kalim is positively beaming now, his energy infectiously reassuring and radiant. "I’m looking forward to a fun night, count me in!" 

Leona scrunches up his face and screws his eyes shut before looking into the distance. It’s as if his consciousness has departed, from the sheer idiocy of this conversation. 

“How much has that fuckin' clown got you brainwashed already to make you spout such delusions of grandeur?!" He gapes at Kalim's relentless positivity. "C'mon Jack, we're goin' back. They can handle themselves." Without a backward glance, he walks away, trusting that the freshman will follow suit.

With a short sigh of resignation and a brief incline of his head, Jack follows along in his dorm leader's wake. "Sorry, guys," he murmurs. "I gotta agree with my Housewarden. Something doesn't feel right. Hope to see you all later." The wolf man turns his back and trots to catch up with Leona.

Fellow wears an indecipherable expression as he watches them leave. The muscles around his eye twitch slightly and an ear has flattened against his hair in annoyance. Though Fellow is doing his level best to remain unaffected by the sour reactions, a tiny tendril of disappointment wavers briefly over his features. His resolve steels, yet he keeps his smile, resolutely ignoring their mutterings as his fox tail sweeps side to side. His body language remains relatively casual and open, save for a subtle defensive set in his posture and shoulders. He stands a little taller in an attempt to maintain his cool.

Vil scoffs and walks over to the gate, holding up his perfectly manicured hands in mock surrender. "There's no amount of liquor on the planet worth suffering his disgusting presence or getting tangled in whatever diabolic schemes he's attempting. He's a repugnant vagabond with nothing but deceit and manipulation oozing from his vile, malicious tongue. Y/n, you can do far better—really, anyone with a proper background and education instead of someone from the fringes of society who can't even feed himself." 

With a flip of his hair, Vil sniffs dismissively. He gives you one last look of disapproval before strolling away in search of a less irritating place to be.

Ace begins to panic, feeling his chance at free drinks slipping through his fingers. "Wai- Wait- wait, WAIT—everybody STOP," Ace frantically exclaims in desperation. "Come back, you can't just leave! Come on! There’s free alcohol at stake here! Please?! Dammit. UGH!" 

Vil's words seemed to hit home. Fellow's unbreakable poker face crumbles as his ears pull down flat against his scalp. His tail stiffens, lowering between his legs in utter humiliation. The fox beastman swallows thickly as the tides of his happiness drain. Gidel scurries up to Fellow and places a hand gently on his back to console his guardian. Fellow tries to plaster a makeshift grin back on, but his pain bleeds through, brow furrowed and eyes darting, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

Ace blinks and smiles awkwardly before muttering, "Well, now I actually feel pretty bad." His freckled face reddens slightly, cheeks taking on a darker tinge of rose as the color creeps out to his ears. A soft, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his mouth. He runs a hand through his copper-red hair, clearly caught somewhere between guilt and shame—internal conflict is evident. 

Despite all the flippant, disrespectful comments, teasing and general disregard Ace has shown Fellow, this complete and public emotional breakdown appears to hit Ace harder than he'd care to admit, and perhaps—just maybe—a faint sense of kinship forms at the connection he sees between himself and the conman. Two jovial and clownish individuals—born entertainers. Suddenly, this moment strikes Ace more so than anything else Fellow has said or done thus far, leaving the redhead oddly touched. It’s as if his own heart was personally struck by the kind, selfless soul Fellow seems to be deep down, no matter how hard the foxman tries to keep it buried.

"Listen, man," Ace smiles shyly, shifting from foot to foot with his thumbs stuck in his belt loops. "You know, even if nobody else says it, I, uh... Well... If you're going straight," Ace chuckles, clearing his throat, "like you say, then you're pretty cool. Besides, all your antics are pretty funny. And... The way you really care for him..." Ace stares with admiration, nodding his head towards Gidel, voice low with reverence. His cheeks are completely red now, unable to formulate words, just awkwardly shuffling around trying to escape his own embarrassment. 

"You're a... a really good big brother. You know," He sputters, blinking and glancing to the side before slowly looking back at Fellow, and then you. "So... Just forget about Vil's stupid bullshit and move on. Because..." He pauses for a second before nodding assuredly, his confidence growing. "Because you've got plenty to give! It might not feel like it, and sometimes there will be a moment where all seems lost..."

You shake your head in disbelief. Had Ace just openly spoken words of wisdom? Such kind words, too—from him of all people! That, surely, is the sign of an actual miracle happening, since Ace, your dearest friend, is not typically one for… sincerity. ‘Shocking’ would be an understatement. Ace's friendly gaze causes Fellow's orange eyes to grow glassy. Your classmates, equally as stunned, stare at Ace in open astonishment.

Ace presses on with his impromptu speech, conveying the utmost sincerity, "You've got to be strong and push past your misfortune, and not allow yourself to think you're not worthy of love or care." His smile grows warmer and he turns his face to you, making brief eye contact before casting his gaze back towards Fellow. "I just know that somewhere out there, a happy life awaits you... and maybe... there's someone wonderful to share it with."

Now why would Ace allude to you when you haven't even decided your feelings yet? You quickly turn around to conceal the rising flush in your cheeks. You’re somewhere between mortified and thrilled for Ace to publicly express his support of your romance. Nerves flood your stomach—the anticipation, the prospect of falling in love has made you equal parts anxious and giddy. A mixture of euphoria and despair hits you all at once—how beautiful to acknowledge your affections for the fox man—yet, can you commit?

You look over at Cater and mouth with abject horror: 'What the fuck is going on?'

Cater looks thoroughly entertained by the entire event, flashing you a thumbs up. He bites his lower lip, silently giggling to himself. He snaps a picture of you on his phone—the audacity.

Cater mouths back, “looks like someone has a cru-ush.” 

Your face displays all of your confusion. “Stop—shh—be serious, this is real,” you whisper, stifling a tiny, strained giggle and putting an end to the banter by sternly holding out your index finger.

This is too much—too fast—you feel helpless, swept up in the stormy waves of fate and romance. One single day has dragged on and on, as if stretched forever by the overwhelming events of your trip. Even Fellow's unexpected change of heart is but a fleeting part of some fever dream—it couldn’t have all been real. An insane whirlwind romance, a kidnapping, a deadly amusement park, and a desperate con artist—who you’ve become increasingly drawn to. This has been one of the strangest experiences of your entire life.

Glancing quickly over your shoulder, you catch Gidel grinning and bouncing happily, his eyes bright with energy, seemingly thrilled at the idea of you and Fellow becoming partners. His excitement is contagious, and it only adds fuel to the fire in your heart. To know the little boy holds high hopes for the two of you—maybe something is already blooming? Blood pounds in your veins and a tightness builds in your chest, causing your heartbeat to drum ever faster as Fellow takes a step toward you.

He gently turns you to face him. His grip is strong, yet soft. A twinge of hope tugs at the corners of his lips, though his posture betrays his vulnerability and fear of rejection. His interest in you is palpable, and the seriousness of the impending moment makes you want to run away. As hesitant as you are to admit it, you definitely feel a connection to this man—one beyond lust. A deeper bond transcends physical attraction, as if your hearts are bound, stitched with a million red puppet strings of fate. With each pump of blood, another thread pulls taut, drawing the two of you closer together.

You're nervous, embarrassed, and entirely unsure of what you want. In an attempt to stall, you address your remaining classmates. "Well, I sure could use a drink right now! How about it?" Slight panic italicizes your statement.

Ace raises his hands in the air with triumph. "Fuck yeah," he laughs, looking around eagerly. Cater looks relieved to have the perfect excuse to drink a ridiculous amount of booze without getting nagged by Riddle for acting inappropriate. Trey sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in a strained manner, as if resisting another stress-related aneurysm. He nods with resignation that he won't be back at Heartslabyul any time soon, committing himself to making sure none of the trouble-making underclassmen get up to their usual antics of havoc, mayhem and chaos. You catch Trey mutter, "I will definitely regret this," to himself, but you still allow a surge of gratitude wash over your anxious heart at his kind gesture.

Lilia's laughter rings out, the night breeze sweeping back his hair to reveal a playful grin. "The Pop Music Club is always down for a fun time. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to show Kalim and Cater how to really party! Oh, what a splendid evening this will be," he gleams, patting his clubmates heartily on the shoulders. They both gulp, nervous about his declaration.

The gentle moonlight reflecting off the ocean catches Lilia's irises in a breathtaking display of shimmering crimson. In a flash, he materializes in front of Fellow, nearly scaring the poor fox out of his skin. Lilia's lips are curled in a wide, sly smile and he stares deep into his soul. 

After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, stepping forward and speaking conspiratorially. "But tell me the truth. What really is the score on this entire set-up?" The sinister, terrifying nature Lilia exhibits makes Fellow's ears tremble and tail swish madly in defense, eyes large and alert. Fellow lets out a nervous yelp, frozen as the staring contest commences. After what appears to be some type of mental standoff, the vampire's demeanor eases. 

Lilia puts a comforting arm around Fellow and hugs him to his side, eyes glowing brighter. "Ah, young love! So fun to watch! You two have my blessing," Lilia beams at the stupefied Fellow, whose ears still lay flat against his scalp in terror. His tail is tucked tightly between his legs in an act of submission, a concession of defeat.

With that, your classmates trail out of the boardwalk, away from the ruins of the defunct Amusement Park. Their loud banter fills the night air, a jovial cacophony of nonsense and delirium. Fellow places one hand between Gidel's shoulder blades to gently guide him along, and he extends his other to you, silently inviting you to interlace your fingers with his. His expression is relaxed and expectant—but his eyes show his nerves. His smooth, gloved palm envelops your hand and together, the three of you follow your classmates.

🌟 song: Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 1.8k

The dark streets of the city are lit in an amber glow from the many shops that stay open late, with neon signs boasting special deals and hot food creating a gorgeous rainbow of flashing colors in the night. Bustling crowds move briskly, pouring in from all directions. They mill around, eager to engage in the nightlife of the entertainment district, excited to partake in their desired sins. You follow a group of partygoers through an arching entranceway that has the phrase 'Hell's Den' lit above the metalwork in garish crimson lights. Passing underneath the grand entrance and entering the gaudy exterior is another world of sound, color and light—a vibrancy not meant for the meek. The entirety of the complex is covered with glowing tiles, casting a radiant aura in such a dazzling fashion it reminds you of a place in your home world: Las Vegas.

Welcoming aromas of cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap cologne, and the buzzing, neon atmosphere draws a content sigh from Fellow. The wide array of faces passing by—all of them new and shining with happiness, seeking to escape their own respective realities. There is something inspiring about this bustling den of iniquity. The electricity that percolates within the underground is like a shot of adrenalin. It's pure magic. It is no wonder all of this serves as an irresistible lure for those craving freedom. In this night-city, any sinner can find solace.

As you pass the main foyer of Hell's Den, an enormous set of double doors lies ahead. Three large, burly bouncers loiter at the entrance and peer closely at you all.

"Now what do we have here?" the bouncer booms, zeroing in on Gidel. The bouncer points towards the kid, accusatory. "Ain't he a little young for this joint?"

All heads turn towards Gidel, who stands proud and fearless in the face of these mountainous men. While most everyone else shifts nervously, Gidel plants his little hands on his hips and looks up at the bouncers unabashed, pursing his lips in an indignant pout and giving an extra little sassy bob of his head. He stands his ground with the cold, fierce and commanding presence of someone much older. The way his stance radiates authority, even in the face of danger, is both admirable and comical. The usual slouching and youthfulness of his mannerisms and body language are totally eradicated as the imperious stare he fixes on the bouncers bears down. Gidel is a fearless soldier—a fiercely determined, stalwart pillar in the face of adversity, daring the guards to deny him passage.

"You wound me, good sir," Fellow puts a gloved hand to his heart in a mock sign of hurt. "Of course, he is of drinking age. How insulting!" He levels them with his withering orange gaze. The muscle men shift uneasily at his silent challenge—the cocky facade is his customary tactic for warding off hostilities before they could grow and take root. "This here," he grabs the glowering Gidel, patting the child proudly on the head, "is the eldest of our party." The bouncers look at each other, then at the boy, then back to Fellow. The sheer absurdity of Fellow's statement is undeniable—no reasonable person would buy it.

Fellow goes on. "Cater, are you seeing this shit? Discrimination, in this day and age? Put these nitwits on blast," Fellow gestures to Cater's phone, and Cater begins filming. Gidel points aggressively at the bouncer, shaking his little index finger with the might of his wrath, as Fellow declares loudly, "I want everyone to know—this place is not welcome to those of different social stations, based on age or appearance. This is preposterous!" He turns his attention back to the bouncers, widening his arms to the gathering crowd.

"Bigotry, ageism, it's so awful! No wonder Gidel hides the fact that he's over 2,000 years old. Now I see why the man refuses to share the wisdom he's collected, the amazing anecdotes and experiences, and the undeniable brilliance he could impart upon the world—instead, he hides, ashamed, all due to the abuse he receives on a daily basis from these types of buffoons!" 

The surrounding individuals stare in stunned silence. "It's not Gidel who is the child here, but all of you. People should not be judged so harshly due to their appearance. Everyone should be accepted—their ideas, actions, and experiences embraced with respect, despite physical differences that set them apart. Everyone must be loved and appreciated, for there are precious gems everywhere we look in this beautiful world. The rich, diverse community of people who inhabit this planet should be able to share with all, learn from one another and work together in unity, free to be who they are without harassment!"

The neon light catches fresh tears running down various faces in the crowd. To add further insult to the bouncers’ injuries, Royal Sword Academy's Seven Dwarves—who happened to be waiting to get into the same bar—stare daggers at the gatekeepers and gather near Gidel in solidarity. Their angry, diminutive stature radiates powerful force when unified against a common enemy—it is truly a frightening sight to behold.

In one single swoop, Fellow swings public opinion in Gidel’s favor, inciting rage to right the wrong. The fervor of the crowd continues to rise. "Please, show our precious elder the respect he deserves. Do not look at him and see a mere child—look into his eyes to the aged visage beneath." His orange gaze bores into the guards. "Can you not sense his inner radiance, the power and splendor of his soul, and the treasures locked away within? Don't allow your prejudices and expectations to hold him back. Or you, for that matter. The sheer fact of his youthful appearance is no obstacle to greatness! And as long as you carry this narrow-minded sentiment, you will forever be barred from ever knowing the greatest secrets of the universe. Remember, folks! In the end, it isn't your status, money, or popularity that ultimately leads to a better future! It's our kindness, compassion, and tolerance." The conman punctuates his powerful speech with a satisfied swish of his fluffy tail, and the crowd cheers wildly in approval.

Cater is eating this up. His thumbs frantically type out a lengthy post that ends with his signature sparkling diamond hashtags, creating the most glorious online discourse. 

Trey is lost in thought, muttering to himself, "he does have the right idea, maybe he'd make a good Headmage after all." 

Kalim stares intently, with a faraway gleam in his eye, utterly entranced by Fellow. He’s just about ready to sign up for a personal tutoring session on the topic of the Universal Principles. 

The rest of your classmates have the most deadpan expression on their faces, looking at each other and silently communicating how deeply uninterested they all are at witnessing this bizarre, disturbing spectacle for the umpteenth time.

The guards can’t hide their bewilderment, and they reluctantly backpedal to let your group inside. You and Cater share a mischievous smile, impressed at Fellow's antics. 

Your devious fox pulls you flush to his body, ushering you into the club with a sly wink. "Shall we, dearest Y/n? Let’s make our debut, hmm?" He smirks in the direction of his brother as he spins you around, all while moving backwards into the bar. He bows deeply and gestures elegantly, indicating you should head inside first. You can't help giggling, covering your mouth to conceal the toothy grin that betrays your giddiness as you make your way inside. His eyes travel up and down your frame, marveling at your swaying hips, devouring every curve. His suggestive tongue wets his bottom lip before he bites it, fangs now visible. You're almost ashamed of how attracted you are to him.

Your classmates follow like ducklings trailing a parent, curious to see where the night will take them and if any of it will be blackmail-worthy. How amusing. They muffle laughter at Fellow's narcissistic flamboyance and over-exaggerated antics, taking note of every ridiculous attempt to woo you. A few pretend to gag, exchanging distressed, strained expressions—a theatrical attempt to shove down the raw, unbridled horror they feel at the thought of having to live through another performance of the clown show.

You're not even sure if he wears a persona—a true entertainer, for the thrill of it all—or if he's trying on sincerity for once. You suspect he's a walking caricature of his own making. Even so, the raw energy and manicured showmanship are alluring. His penchant for high-pitched laughter and dramatized emotion adds levity to an otherwise dark situation—something about it really tickles you. His potentially-feigned amusement lights up his impossibly expressive face in a manner that is genuinely contagious.

Slowly taking in your surroundings, your mouth falls slightly open. This was no ordinary dive bar—this was a full on club. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, dispersing kaleidoscopic beams of color and light throughout the space. The rhythm throbs, perfectly synced with the strobe—each flash of luminescence reveals a slightly new scene. Sweaty bodies bend and sway to the thumping, seductive beat—you’re so ready to join them. Every face around you morphs into carefree bliss. From behind you, Fellow's presence is electrifying, playfully tracing his fingertips across the curve of your lower back as he leads you to the bar. His hand lightly smacks your ass, as if in approval, and your face warms. The effervescent air and residual excitement of escaping death creates an aphrodisiac unlike anything you’ve experienced. The pulsing bass, Fellow's slightly-territorial hand on your hip, and his sensual gaze makes your heart thump erratically. An aching want—no, need—simmers beneath your skin.

"May I get you a drink?" 

Fellow's soft words pull you from your daze, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes appraises your dilated pupils. His toothy grin widens. 

"You prefer sweet, don’t you? I know just the thing." 

He studies you lasciviously. 

"Freshly-squeezed juices and top shelf liqueurs always do the trick. I just love the taste of cherries." 

He brings his hand up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers hovering over the shell of your ear before landing around a stray tendril of hair. He twirls the silky strand between his gloved fingers and tucks it gently behind your ear. Tantalizing.

"Yes, please. That sounds delicious."

You giggle nervously, unable to break eye contact. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were—the bottom pout most inviting. You hope he doesn't notice you gulp.

Somehow, the man's smile grows even bigger. He takes your hand in his, clasping it tightly and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a soft, chaste kiss. 

"Wait right here for me, won't you, my dear? I'll be back in a heartbeat." 

With a spin, he dances his way through the crowd towards the bartender, expertly navigating the chaos. You stand there dumbfounded, unable to keep the affection from blossoming in your chest; full, red, and so tight that you're afraid it might burst.

Hi, it's me again. Erica. The girl who said "my goal for 2024 is to spend the whole year writing!" Yeah. Sorry about that. Turns out that life sucks and writing is hard. I'm doing my best out here, though. I hope y'all enjoy this one! This shit really makes me laugh, so I hope you laughed too. If you want to create any art based on a scene from this, PLEASE do. I've already started working on chapter 3. I hope it won't take me forever to finish this story but, I'm really just taking my time with it. By "it" I mean, you know, getting to the whole point of this request, which is where Fellow Honest drunkenly confesses to you. But as you can see, we are going on a whole journey, here. I hope you love it! That's why I'm calling it a slice of life. I hope I get to talk to you all again really soon, in my next writing, which I hope... will be... soon. Love you all dearly, ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome. P.S. I'll be at Anime Expo at the beginning of July. Come say hi!

[bartfargo]

We're not out of the woods yet; we aren't even anywhere near the edge of the woods

A lot of people talk about this election as if it means the end of Trumpism; it won't. Not by a long shot.

For starters, there are more election deniers in the government now than there were on January 6. If this election is as close as is being predicted, it could go to the courts. It could even go to the Supreme Court; raise your hand if you think they'll call that down the middle.

But suppose the undecideds figure things out, the people who are talking about voting third-party get some timely treatment for their cranio-rectal insertion disorder, Harris wins by a landslide, and Trump goes to prison for the rest of his life. Wouldn't that end Trumpism? Far from it. Don Jr. and Eric are still roaming free, and JD Vance is the heir apparent.

I'm not saying we should give up hope; I'm just saying we need to look at this as a marathon, not a sprint.

[redistrictgirl]

As of September 8th, 2024, Kamala Harris is slightly favored (64% chance) in the race for the presidency.

So first, let's talk about that topline.

Some other forecasts have become noticeably more bullish for former President Trump, and that's because they're looking at the polling margins decline and declaring that the convention bump is still declining. But that's not the important part of the picture. Here, my polling "bins" come in handy. Let's look at the week-by-week average of national polling:

Week of August 11th: 47.7 Harris, 45.8 Trump

Week of August 18th (week of DNC): 47.9 Harris, 43.8 Trump

Week of August 25th: 47.9 Harris, 45.0 Trump

Week of September 1st: 49.0 Harris, 46.4 Trump

Notice anything? Vice President Harris held steady through the DNC- the convention bump merely took the form of a dip in polling for Mr. Trump. My personal theory as to why that is rests in the tone of the convention - the organizers clearly attempted a big-tent strategy to reach out to disaffected Republicans. But that makes undecided voters, not new voters for Democrats. And now both candidates are snatching up undecided voters - we are officially in full gear.

Now, let's break down the closest states:

Arizona (51% chance of being won by Harris) - This state had the biggest swing this week thanks to continued gains for Mr. Trump. The fundamentals of this state are still strong for Ms. Harris, however.

Georgia (62% chance of being won by Trump) - Another Romney-Trump-Biden state, the Vice President is keeping this state close, but it may not be enough given that the Deep South isn't known for its abundance of persuadable voters. Fundamentals and polling line up well here.

North Carolina (64% chance of being won by Trump) - The polls have this state being neck-and-neck, but again, the model expects Mr. Trump to have an easier time picking up undecided voters here.

Pennsylvania (67% chance of being won by Harris) - This state has the closest polling average in our dataset, but the model seems to believe we're more likely to be looking at a polling miss like 2022's instead of 2020's.

Wisconsin (69% chance of being won by Harris) - If there's any state the polls could fumble, I personally think it's this one. I just can't buy this whiter, more rural Rust Belt state voting to the left of Michigan. But even just looking at fundamentals, Ms. Harris is still a very, very slim favorite in the Badger State.

Now for some other notable swings:

Nevada (77% chance of being won by Harris) - Another massive swing in the Southwest, but this time it's bad for the former President. The model is now pretty confident that he's locked out of around 48.5% of the state's voters, which... you know... gives a narrow path for victory. He better hope that Ms. Harris doesn't gain any further here.

Texas (96% chance of being won by Trump) - Texas has leaped back off the board for a similar reason to Nevada - all indicators suggest that Mr. Trump is approaching 50% of the vote in this state. It would probably take a genuine polling miss in the Vice President's favor to make the state winnable.

So where does this leave each candidate? The Rust Belt continues to get more important for Ms. Harris, and Mr. Trump still needs Georgia and North Carolina to come through for him. So on a macro level, outside of the Southwest getting weird, things have actually been fairly unsurprising, which you'd expect from a short week. Let's see if there's a shakeup after the debate and in the coming months.

[joanofexys]

omg can I ask about ur minyard ocs??? 👀👀

YES I CAN (and sorry for taking so long)

I am still undecided on if the Minyard twins (pt 2) will be part of my oc canon but they have certainly existed in my head for a hot minute (made them 3 years ago and forgot about them)

ig I should probably include tws. Nothing in detail but mentions of abuse, suicide, and SA

Sawyer Minyard

she/her

31

4'11

criminal defense attorney

has never played a sport in her life and doesn't plan to start

aroace

audhd combo + chronic depression

Saide Minyard

they/them (will respond to any but they/them is preferred as their gender can best be describe as "idk a blob of energy or whatever")

31

5'1

tattoo artist

played exy throughout high school and college but had no interest in going pro

played as a striker

has a bachelor's degree in psychology, never got their masters

also has the audhd combo + bipolar

Unlike the other set of Minyard twins these two were never separated, though Tilda did give them both up. Do I remember if it was mentioned how old Tilda was when she had Aaron and Andrew? No. So we're smudging the timeline however we need to for this like 10-ish year age gap between both sets of twins

Saide and Sawyer are obviously not identical if you read their height difference. And Saide will probably hold onto being the tallest Minyard sibling for the rest of their life

Saide and Sawyer for the first half of their lives were raised by a very loving foster mother who decided to file for permanent guardianship when they were 7 but due to some vague legal trouble that I haven't developed yet it falls through and the two end up being removed from her home

Thankfully the two stay together but they end up bouncing around the system for awhile and they both grow angry of it. For Sawyer this manifests in her throwing herself into school, an obsession with the justice system, and an anger with law enforcement (girl hates cops with a passion). For Saide it's finding any way to get out of their head. Parties, drugs, sex. Not all of it consensual. A lot of heavy and unhealthy self medication.

They split up for the first time ever for college. Sawyer moves across the country, a full ride with a good school that should get her into a good law school. Saide stays in state, a full ride playing exy, and they figure they'll take what they can get.

They both start receiving help in college. Sawyer attempts suicide for the first time at 21 years old as the contact with her sibling has grown more inconsistent, she has few friends, and she finds herself struggling to keep up with certain required classes she feels no passion for. She starts going to therapy afterwards but receives no diagnosis.

Saide gets diagnosed with ADHD and bipolar II their sophomore year after an outburst at a teammate, followed by three days of them being missing (out getting high and drunk and having sex they weren't fully aware was happening. crashing on friends couches and in their cars) and them returning to college with the following crash and depressive episode. They start trying different medication, stop drinking and doing drugs (with a few relapses on the way despite their insistence that they were never an addict), and started seeing a counselor provided by their colleges mental health service.

Junior year is when Saide starts experimenting with their gender. They go from he/him to he/they to she/they to she/he/they back to he/they and then they/them. That same year they start their tattoo apprenticeship while working toward their psych degree.

Sawyer gets her polisci degree, Saide gets their psych degree, and Sawyer gets accepted to an amazing law school (haven't decided which one cause y'all I have beef with Ivy League's and shit). They're roommates while Sawyer goes to law school. They both move again and get an apartment together. Saide gets a job with a local tattoo place and Sawyer is obviously a full time student. They're pretty cramped in there but they make it work

It's not until Sawyer either is a practicing lawyer or around the time she's taking the bar that the two find out about Andrew and Aaron. They've never had reason to think about other siblings. And obviously Andrew and Aaron had no reason to think they existed. But maybe something comes up with Nicky's adoption process for the two of them and the connection ends up being made

They're distant. Obviously neither of them can pack up and move again to take care of two siblings they don't even know. But there's a small effort made. Sawyer will always call Aaron back. If she's getting home at 3 am after sorting through piles of clients paperwork. Saide writers letters that he's 90% sure Aaron doesn't read and that Andrew throws straight in the trash. But they know they're there. It's probably not until Aaron and Andrew are in college and the events of the books starts going down that they really get connected. Because I'm sorry to Sawyer Minyard, vcious criminal defense attorney, who has to get the phone call that her brother killed a man and no it's not the one she thinks it is.

And this is getting long but yeah that's a bit about them

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

i live in a blue college town surrounded by deep red NOTHING for 50 miles in each direction. The county is consistently Democratic because of the university, but none of the neighboring ones have voted blue in any state or federal election since 1998 and the congressional district is gerrymandered to give it to rural Republicans no matter what. I like to go on long drives out to the countryside to clear my head, and today there weren't nearly as many Trump signs or flags as there usually are. I didn't take much notice to that because I tend to ignore those signs anyway. They're so common out here they blend into the background. But then I noticed a disproportionate number of Harris-Walz signs. That's like finding a unicorn or something.

I passed by a church, one of those small middle-of-nowhere wooden shacks that looks like it was built before the Civil War, and there was a "Christians for Harris" sign out front. THAT was what caught my eye and made me be on the lookout for the rest of my drive; there were an equal number of both Trump and Harris signs way out in the sticks. There was even a sign for Debbie Mucarsel-Powell for senate! NOBODY likes Debbie Mucarsel-Powell! Nobody knows who she even is! I mean, I do, but that's because she was briefly my congresswoman when I lived in the Keys, but she lost to a one of Trump's Miami Cubans after one term. She has less statewide name recognition than either Charlie Crist or Val Demings had in 2022, and a lot of folks think she and Debbie Wasserman-Schultz are the same person! The fact that I saw a sign for her at all is FUCKING WILD! And out in the boonies, no less! Like, maybe, just MAYBE there are some undecided conservatives who would vote against Trump because they finally realize he's dangerous, but you'd think they'd still want the Republicans to control the Senate. No way would they vote blue down the ticket! But I didn't see a SINGLE Rick Scott sign anywhere, not on the fringes of my blue county and not in the deep red neighbor.

Now, I don't think Harris or Mucarsel-Powell will actually flip Florida blue, not by any stretch of the imagination, not in a million years, but this has some VERY interesting implications for the House of Representatives and southern swing states like Georgia and North Carolina that MIGHT conceivably vote blue. This little snapshot of rural Florida makes me think that the rest of the country might finally be fed up with Trump's bullshit (at least fed up enough to kick the can down the road for his 2028 campaign...)

We're two weeks out, and there's really no telling how things will go. God help us all.

[kimmiessimmies]

Will you pleeeeeeeeaaaaaase get James and Sadie together already? I'm getting frustrated it still hasn't happened! 😭

I'm kidding! Sort of, lol! Keep doing what you do, I'm very invested in your story. It's just, it's like this book, and with every page I turn, I'm hoping this is when they'll kiss, but they don't, and I cry.

Oh dear, I'm sorry! But honey, we need the drama! What do you mean, 'we've already had enough drama'? There can never be enough drama!

Joking aside, though, thank you, Anon, for comparing my story to a book. ❤️❤️❤️ And, I do actually have a few things to say about all this, and I'll use my answer to your ask to do just that. 😊

Everyone knows by now that "Jadie" was never my intention. They were both meant to be with other people, and I had a whole storyline drawn out for each of them.

When this whole chemistry thing popped up, my original stance was "Nope. No way. Sorry kids, not gonna happen." But these two are just so damn charming together, I had to give them something. I gave them a night together, but it wasn't enough. This thing needed a storyline. So then, I spent a lot of time undecided: am I still going for the original outcome, but walk a slightly different path or am I changing course completely and do James and Sadie get to have the happily ever after they are both telling me they want?

I have made a decision on this, which is what I'm now working towards. Some people may love it, others may not, but I think it works with the rest of the story. I had to match it with other things already set in motion, though, because plot holes terrify me, and that takes time. We are heading somewhere. Just bear with me.

If you read all of this essay (like I said in my post yesterday, being concise is something I need to work on 😅) and are still with me, I'll reward you for your patience by telling a little bit about what's coming up. Don't want to be spoiled even a little bit? Stop right here! Curious? Click! ⬇️

We're heading into summer ☀️ with the next chapter, titled "Let’s Talk About...". This one is mostly written, but needs to be shot. It focuses on Rachel and Malte and how they are doing.

After that we're going back to Honeycomb Valley and we'll see Joshua again. His best friend Joel will also be important to this part of the story, as well as some other teens I'll introduce.

The chapter after that is very intricate to write since it'll show the same event, The Hot Wings, performing their summer gig, from two viewpoints: James' and Joshua's.

After that, it's autumn 🍁, and if you think the weather is stormy now, let me tell you that autumn winds tend to blow even harder... But they say there's calm after the storm, right?

Thank you, Anon, for being this invested in my story. ❤️

[tomorrowusa]

« Here’s a bit of advice to help maintain your sanity over the next few weeks until Election Day: Just ignore the polls. Unless you’re a campaign professional or a gambler, you’re probably looking at them for the same reason the rest of us are: to know who’ll win. Or at least to feel like you know who’ll win. But they just can’t tell you that.

[ … ]

So give yourself a break. Step off the emotional roller coaster. If you want to do something to affect the election, donate money or time in a swing state — ideally to a state party or down-ballot race, where your efforts will go further — or volunteer in a local race. Call anyone in your life who might actually be undecided or might not be registered to vote or might not make it to the polls. »

— Ezra Klein at the New York Times.

Don't obsess with polls – even if we're ahead. Just stop it!

For starters, polling never fully adjusted to the post-landline world. Poilsters now have to endlessly adjust and contort raw data to get the results they think they're supposed to get.

One thing we know for certain is that this election is going to be close. Whether we're 1.3% ahead or 0.5% behind, those results are still within those imperfect polls' margins of error.

For whatever reason, Democrats pay far more attention to polls than Republicans. All that doomscrolling and anxiety is unhealthy and is a distraction from what we should be doing.

Elections are about getting more votes than the opposing candidate. If you are truly worried, then volunteer your time. If you get one additional person to vote Dem, that does a lot more good than mass sharing links about polls. There are many candidates for all levels of government who really need your help.

Volunteer Opportunities, Events, and Petitions Near Me · Mobilize

And if you can donate, this is not a time to be stingy. Candidates for House and Senate can often get neglected in presidential years.

ActBlue – Powering Democratic candidates & progressive causes across the country.

And when in groups of people which may include undecided or soft voters, don't let some MAGA loudmouth get away with spewing bullshit. When you don't challenge bullshit, others are more likely to think it's true.

When somebody claims the Trump economy was great, remind the others that Trump's botched handling of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 led to an immediate recession, unemployment, and a series of events which resulted in over two years of inflation.

Trump did not leave office until 20 January 2021. But the MAGA people want voters to think his administration ended on 22 January 2020 – the day the first COVID infection appeared on the US.

Except (maybe) for price gougers, almost nobody was better off in October 2020 than they are now. The United States had the highest per capita fatality rate for COVID of the G-7 countries. It's the only way Trump made America first. Drinking bleach and eating cow paste cured nobody.

To actually win, let's concentrate on stuff we can do personally and let pollsters and pundits have food fights among themselves which we should ignore.

Volunteer, donate, and speak out! You'll feel far better. 😎

[fair-city-reporter]

Poll Winner

Out of everything, I was not expecting the MLP AU to be the winner hahaha but I can't say I'm complaining! Here comes the fun part though! I do apologize

I finally got some free time to share a few tidbits about "WordFilly" because I literally could not come up with a better name. I also plan to turn on asks, so you can ask me things about the AU's - I'd welcome it.

WordFilly is an alternate universe ft. Wordgirl and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (MLP/FiM), so here's what I'm thinking so far. Fair City is known for its magic as a lot of villains have powers, but I decided to get a little silly with this. I honestly haven't quite decided this bit.

Becky is still an alien, so I feel she isn't a normal run-of-the-mill pony, but she also looks like an earth pony or something in order to blend in with the crowd! Huggy could either continue being a monkey, or he's like a dragon - I'm not sure which yet!

And now we're going to break this down-

Read more for additional content!

WordFilly Character Species

The Botsford Family - Sally Botsford (earth pony, cutie mark undecided; is still the District Attorney - has a wavy red mane and tail, knows Spanish); Tim Botsford (earth pony, cutie mark undecided; part-time substitute teacher, also works at an office - looks a lot like a Clydesdale, but smaller); TJ Botsford (earth pony, cutie mark undecided; blank flank). I mulled so long over this AU for a while - and I did decide Becky’s species but for now, I’m going to keep this quiet. All will be revealed in due time!

Violet is a unicorn because I said so; as she's the whimsical artist, I immediately thought she would be a unicorn! It felt fitting for her character.

Personally, I see Scoops as either an earth pony or a Pegasus, I'm unclear as to which right now.

Tobey's 100% a unicorn. I don't make the rules. This is canon now. (only I do make the rules because it's my AU /lh). I also see Victoria as being a unicorn attempting to pretend she's an alicorn or something because she would.

Villains;

Chuck the Evil Sandwich Making Guy - earth pony; cutie mark's a sandwich stacked on a platter (this might change, but idk yet-). He does still have a sandwich head because why not

Dr. Two Brains - earth pony/mouse hybrid; has mouse ears, whiskers, and a long mouse tail - though it weirdly resembles a rat's own. DTB could also be another species that isn't mouse but I think that would defeat the purpose. I know someone who mixed him with a parasprite and I kind of thought it was cute though!

Mr. Big is also an earth pony-

Whammer is a unicorn. That's it. That's the post.

I feel like Miss Question is 100% a Pegasus and that her powers come from sort of pendant (much like something I plan to do with Eileen but we'll get to her later-). Though I love her hoverboard thing, so maybe she's a unicorn? I can't decide, to be honest.

For Eileen, she's an earth pony - her powers are fueled by the amulet, same as in canon! She's short for a pony, and she hates it so much.

Speedrun for the rest of the villains!

The Butcher - unicorn, his cutie mark is a slab of meat that is faintly covered in a hue of red. LRW is 100% a unicorn though she's mixed with something else, don't ask me what just yet. Amazing Rope Guy is an earth pony; uhhh, Seymour is a unicorn and extremely obnoxious- D2B's henchmen are an earth pony and unicorn. Leslie is an earth pony.

Rhyme and Reason are a Pegasus and unicorn. These might switch later!

Miss Power is [REDACTED].

Worldbuilding

WordFilly follows the Wordgirl series if the characters were ponies instead of humans - or an alien and the citizens of Fair City. The city is mostly inhabited by ponies and has become a foundation for magic, and not to mention superheroes and of course supervillains. No one knows when it began but after seeing Amazo Stallion for the first time, Fair City became enamored at the prospect.

Amazo Stallion had been a unicorn though some could almost swear they'd seen him with wings once or twice, but that simply couldn't be possible: no one had seen alicorns in such a long time. As time continued, the legacy of Amazo Stallion and other likeminded heroes continued to prosper until he vanished. There wasn't any reason behind his explanation; he just... disappeared.

With time however, unexpected changes happen...

When a young filly named Becky Hoofsford was found by her adoptive parents - Tim and Sally. Nopony knew where she'd come from, other than the fact she was found on the front porch by Tim. For some reason, she had a pamphlet in her hooves and had been reading through it which was certainly a little odd (but Tim would never say he'd been bothered by it. If anything, he found it endearing of how smart his little Beckaroni was-)

Unwilling to leave a young filly out on her own, Sam and Tim Hoofsford take her in. I imagine they try to find her family, but end up finding nopony and Becky becomes their adoptive daughter! I’m still developing certain aspects of this universe and well, I think I’d be a poor host if I revealed everything so quickly!

With the exception of a few characters, I feel like most of the ponies do in fact, have their cutie marks. TJ doesn’t have his… Johnson? Probably not! Though I do need to decide exactly what said cutie marks are because my ass is very picky!

If anyone is curious on this universe as a whole, I can make more content but honestly right now - I don’t have too many spoons to fully go into detail and I’m trying to keep spoilers from reaching all of you just yet heh—

[valerieofavonlea]

Final Stormlight 5 Predictions

Alright, we're entering the home stretch, and preview chapters are starting. I'm undecided if I'll read them but I did want to get my theories all down in one place to score how well I did later on. 😂

Spoilers for the whole Stormlight Archive, including what's been released so far for book 5

So going from most to least confident.

Adolin will be Odium's Champion, and he will lose

Chana is Shallan's mother (not my theory but I fully back it)

Dalinar will break the terms of the contract, most likely in a simple way. I'm really eyeing the "unharmed" part of the contract. Todium will be freed from all of Honor's bounds

Kaladin will live and become a therapist

All of our ten flashback characters will live

Oathpact revival, but not in the way we've all been thinking. Since Dalinar will inadvertently break the contract and free Odium, they'll need a quick and desperate way to keep Odium in the Rosharan system so that he does not wreak havoc on the rest of the cosmere. Odium will claim Dalinar's soul, and that bond will be flipped to then bond Dalinar to the other nine and bind Odium to Roshar in turn, at least temporarily

Freeing Ba Ado Mishram will not revive the deadeyes, though it may make it be possible to repair their original bonds, ie: Testament

Mad dash for the honorblades. We'll get Kaladin going after Moash for Jeszrian's blade, plus Shallan/Chana confrontation, and Szeth vs Nale

Shallan wasn't actually the one responsible for bringing back the desolations. That was finagled by our friends the Ghostbloods. Because, the Ghostbloods/Thaiddakar were effectively in league with Gavilar/The Sons of Honor, so a Ghostblood accompanying Chana to kill a budding Radiant is them either directly working against Gavilar, or they were actually responsible for Chana's death.

[ask-duotale-b2fc]

✨️Duotale FAQ✨️

Just in case peeps ask questions a lot lol. Will add more as we go.

•What exactly is this AU about?

Its just a funny little AU where not all monsters were locked underground and some went into hiding instead. Some species of monster in this AU can take on human form with their magic, hence why this is possible. Of course, this doesnt stop kiddos, human or monster, from climbing that darn mountain though.

•When is the next page?

Duotale updates every other Friday. Time varies but I try to keep it between 10am and 12pm EST. If either day falls on a holiday, the page will be posted the following day.

•Why is this AU called Duotale?

Because the two main characters are twins, hence the Duo in Duotale. Ok they aren't twins, but they are siblings, born a few months apart. Yes, Strawberry is the Older one.

•Is the player a thing in this AU?

Maybe, maybe not. Depends on the AUs in the Citadel. No one is controlling the Duotale cast though. They've had their own mind and actions from the start. Underplayer is in the Citadel though, if you count them as a player.

●Can my AU be featured in your comic?

Why yes. Just refer to the link in the Masterpost labeled "how to get your AU into the comic". Follow the rules, answer the questions, and you'll be in where we can fit you! Do note that we will try to spread everyone out through different MVC visits, so please, don't be upset if your appearance isn't automatic! You will be seen eventually before the story's end! Scene art and asks are a different story though.

•Will Kris make an appearance?

Yes :3. I'll leave it at that. Ralsei will make an appearance in asks or art, Susie may or may not be in the comic itself. Here's the boi. During the comic he's a lil toddler. (Gender explaination is below btw for those that care.)

•Is Kris gonna be Frisk or Luci's counterpart?

No. Neither. They will be their own person.

●Is Clover gonna make an appearance?

Like Kris, the cowboy ghost will be there, but unlike Kris, you won't see him in comic til the end. He will (and has already) pop up on our blog, like Dalv or Star sherrif boi, but in comic, sorry, hes in Asgore's castle and that's so far away right now lmao. But here's how he looks. Yes, he knows the fox stole his hat. He does not know where his gun is, though.

●Will xxx color soul child also be in this AU?

Depends. We already have the Yellow soul decided (obvi). If There's another colored child you wanna see pop up as a canon-to-duotale ghost at the end of the comic you can ask, but so far only Clover and MAYBE Marine(Patience soul) but the lore is off that comic might contradict yellow or ours so that's undecided. Any other kids so far would be only seen in the MVC. We're trying not to pick kids in full existing sets so thats why Clover and maybe Marine are our only choices so far. We are more likely to make up the rest tbh. No more red souls though beyond cameos. Red souls work a special way in our AU and there's not a lot (if any) that can fit that requirement.

•Can other ghosts see Chara/Luci?

Yes. And she can see said other ghosts. Strawberry can only see those that she summons and Blackberry can see ghosts as well. Frisky can sense spirits near him but obviously cannot see them.

●Why do some characters have rings around them?

That just means they're dead. Ghosts. Spirits that didn't move on to heven or hell. The ring color matches the color of their soul and doesn't change. Luci, Blackberry, Dalv, and Kris have special rings though. They change color based on emotions. This color changing mood ring is only available to one species and it starts becoming visible around puberty. Luci is fullblooded, hence why her ring is always visible and changing like a rainbow, though Blackie and Kris aren't fullblooded, so their rings might be a bit faultly ha. If you're every curious what the colors mean, you can refer to the link labeled "Luci's mood ring" on the master post. Or a more simplified list ca be found on her teen ref.

•What exactly are the main cast's species?

Blackie is is a halfbreed kitsune vampire, Luci is a purebreed vampire with demonic powers, Strawberry is a tanuki who practices witch magic, and Frisky is a human. He just has a magical scarf to give him wings like redbull. As for Kris... you'll figure it out. No spoilers, sorry lol.

•How did you come up with the idea of Duotale?

Originally this story was gonna be a comic of our own runs in Undertale, showing how they clash and would effect each other. Kinda like thise PMD comics and Nuzlocke animations people make. But somewhere between writing the script and making the first cover art, we changed our minds and made a whole AU instead.

•Is fanart allowed?

Yes uwu. You can find character info and all current ref sheets in the Masterpost, last section at the bottom :3 If ya tag me, I can reblog it in my main account so peeps can see it, and an account I have specifically for or art made by others so I wont lose it. Main account is @oatmealkitty . That is where all non ask/comic art goes.

•What ships are in this comic/blog?

Oh boy a hard question to answer. Ignoring any cameos, out of our own and JUST our own characters this is the list. I'm probably missing a LOT though as these are off the top of my mind.

☆Friskyberry (Frisk x Blackie) | ☆Charaberry (Luci x Strawberry) | ☆Charisk (Sugartale) | ☆Chariel (Luci x Cristal; in the past before adoption, though nothing comes of this.) | ☆Pappyton | ☆Soriel (They break up post story on mutual terms) | ☆Torgore (They break up before the story and never get back together.) | ☆Kingdings (Asgore's relationship post comic) | ☆Sansby (After Sans and Tori split) | ☆Alphyne | ☆Kris x Ralsei

•What are the pronouns of each character?

You will find all information on the masterpost, last section. If someone is missing we just didnt finish the refs yet. Apologies. Since I know MK, MTT and Blooky will be asked about due to lack of refs, they are all he/him here but Blooky and MK accept They/Them. Remember that this is an Alternate Universe, as in not sticking to the game's lore to a T. So please dont start a fuss over this. If canon versions of the characters ever speak or are spoken to in the Citadel, they will be referred to by the genders Toby (NOT THE FANDOM) placed on them, so be happy with that smh.

A note to avoid confusion since I KNOW this will cause issues if I don't give a bible explanation: WITHIN the comic, Kris' pronouns will be he/him, hence me calling the younger one he/him. Personally, I can't see a literal 3 year old toddler changing his gender or even caring about that. I know I sure didn't back then lol. I didn't care till damn near the end of highschool tbh. Soo, He starts requesting people use they/them (if possible) in his late teens as thats what I personally experienced. Sorry to anyone who wants out of the womb non binary/trans babies. Oh and when he's spoken to or about in another language, regaurdless of age, it will be male pronouns bc languages. Sorry, can't fix that either. That's just how languages work. So yeah, Tldr: In comic=he/him. In asks=they/them (he/him if non english language).

𖤐~~~~~~𖤐~~~~~~𖤐

✨️Asks✨️

•You can ask LITERALLY anything to ANYONE. Even the mods.

•All questions will go to the cast as they are in the comic, unless we allow asks for the adults for some reason. All asks starting in chapter 2 are considered canon.

•You can ask spoiler based questions, but they will either be heavily censored or answered in a joking manner as to not give away everything that happens in the story. Depending on the question, we may not be able to answer it at all though.

•All asks that seem like spam will be ignored. I know we answered them before jokingly but after a while it becomes too much. Also! We will ignore asks about religion (offensive/forcing), racism, sexism, stuff like that.

[cookiewoli]

Moon's Whisperer - Sandrock fanfic

I'm not a writer usually, it's been like 10 years since I didn't write a story. But I wanted to try again and do a fanfic with my Sandrock's OC and Elsie.

This story is about an OC and Elsie, it takes place during the quest "Chasing Elsie", so it included spoilers. One character called Panah is included, and is a real character who will be in the game Project ME. Elsie mentioned her meeting with her during the quest.

More of that, I'm not a good writer, and English is not my first language, so sorry in advance

(I put the info references, click on the sentence it's a link)

Chasing Elsie quest

Project ME Panah in game

Project ME Panah drawing reference

Chap 1

The sun had just risen. It was the most beautiful, impressive and comforting moment of the day.

In the hollow of a cliff, the troop of monster-seekers gradually awoke and emerged from their respective tents to gather together in the square around a large campfire. Everyone came at their own pace, greeting each other in a friendly manner. It had only been one night since they had parted, but the reunion was always so pleasant.

Food rations were distributed as people arrived and settled in.

Once everyone was in their places, one of them stood up and moved to the center of the square. She quickly cleared her throat to attract the group's attention.

She was a tall woman with long brown hair flowing in the wind; her shoulders supported a yellow cape, and a mask adorned her face. She looked like something between a superhero and a McMole.

With her hands on her hips and her back straight, she seemed confident and energetic.

"Good morning, everyone! I hope you had a good night. Today, I'd like to introduce you to a new arrival!"

Whispering exchanges began without further ado. A new person joining the group? How did she get here? After a few seconds of suspense, she continued:

"I found her last night near our camp. She…

She seemed to be searching for words.

-She seemed to have run away from home. She'll tell you about it if she feels up to it, which is why we're all going to welcome her today! At least until she gets her strength back. Meet Elsie!"

The whispers died down, and a red-haired girl stepped in front of the group.

"Hey…! Nice to meet' ya. It's a bit embarrassing to be shown off like this in front of so many people, haha…. My name's Elsie! I hope to fit in with you soon!"

Her tone was cheerful and determined; she seemed in no way uncomfortable in front of so many people. The crowd exclaimed with several shouts:

"Welcome to the Monster Researchers camp!"

Some people stood up to shake hands directly with Elsie. "What a warm welcome!" She thought. Being the center of attention like this and cheered on for her arrival embarrassed her in the end. But she already felt at a new home.

"Come here, I'll show you your tent."

Elsie followed the one who had brought her here: she introduced herself as Panah. She had the makings of a leader and someone she could trust. Elsie felt safe with her, and already admired her.

On the way, they heard repeated crashing noises at regular intervals.

"Aaaah, sorry, but your tent is near the forge stand. I hope you don't mind the noise…?"

Out of politeness, Elsie wanted to reply that there was no worries, even though she knew in advance that the noise would soon annoy her.

"No worries, haha! Thank you so much Panah.

-You're welcome, that's normal! Take the liberty to go and rest, or get to know the other members of the camp. See you later!"

Panah walked off into the distance, greeting Elsie with a quick wave of the hand.

Elsie put her hands on her hips, undecided. She was so excited to have landed here that it seemed unimaginable to go and rest now. So she thought of introducing herself to the whole camp, starting with the blacksmith, who was just a few meters from her tent.

She rounded the bend that separated her from the stand, and arrived at the forge. Obviously, someone was there, working.

He was a rather imposing man. His hair was white, but with a black gradient. It was quite disheveled, and his front hair fell over his face. He had delicately braided his right side. Elsie then noticed that he had a long ponytail, tied low at the back.

After observing him from a distance, Elsie moved closer. The man was still tapping his sword, forging a sharp blade.

"Howdy!"

Elsie began playfully, waving her hand at him.

The man raised his head a few inches to look at the woman who had just disturbed him.

Elsie could then take a closer look.

His eyes were orange, with a confident, cold and intimidating look. He had a purple star-shaped tattoo on his left cheek; (it reminded Elsie of someone…)

He lowered his head to continue his work. He had completely ignored Elsie's greeting. She seemed embarrassed, so she continued:

"I'm new here! I arrived today.

-Okay."

His reply was curt and instantaneous. Elsie didn't know where to put herself.

"Er… My name's Elsie…!

-Hmm hmm."

He only nodded to let her know he'd heard.

Elsie began to wonder. Did he have trouble speaking? Like the doctor Fang in Sandrock? Did he already hate her? Was he like that with everyone? Despite this, Elsie didn't want to let the discussion end.

"You… Are you a blacksmith?"

With a heavy sigh, he put his hammer down on its base with a jerk, and stared at her.

"No no. I'm a florist."

Elsie sensed the sarcasm in his voice, and it was sincerely starting to annoy her. What's wrong with him?!

"Okay mister "the florist". What's your name?

-Are you done with your questions?"

This was too much. This insolence had become unbearable. Elsie let out a growl of frustration:

"What's wrong with you dude?! I'm trying to be nice and you talk down to me!

-Well, don't talk to me."

He picked up his hammer again and continued his work. Clearly, the discussion was over.

Elsie stomped off. Is everyone here like him?

She passed Panah on the way, already wandering about her duties as leader. She was bringing water rations to everyone. She immediately noticed her annoyance.

"Hey, Elsie! We meet again so soon, and it's already not going well?

-Why am I standing next to a dumb blacksmith?!

-Ah, I'm so sorry… Actually, there's a reason why the tent near the forge is never taken. I promise I'll get you somewhere else as soon as I can!

-I guess you know this blacksmith well?

Panah set her crates down and scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment.

-Yes… His name's Cassius. He's the least friendly guy in camp. You did wrong to introduce yourself to him in the first place.

-Why is he so mean and sarcastic?!

-Don't take it personally, he was like that with everyone at first.

-And does he plan to become friendlier over time, or should I put him on my freak list?

-Hmm…"

Panah pouted. The answer seemed obvious from the look on his face.

"It's complicated". Is that what you're going to say?

Elsie had read her mind.

-Yeah, well… Very complicated. But I know his greatest weakness…

A slight sneer appeared on Panah's face. This intrigued Elsie.

-Ooooh…? What kind of weakness? A sensitive subject? An embarrassing anecdote? A devastating secret?

-Sweets.

-Huh?"

Elsie looked disappointed, and lost. Sweets? Was that the weak spot of the camp's most imposing guy?!

"You heard me right… Sweets soften him up. And… So does alcohol, for that matter."

This last sentence had been said in a whisper. But unfortunately Elsie had heard.

"Right. There's one thing he's crazy about. It's lollipops."

Panah pulled one out of her pocket, and Elsie couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"HAHAHAHA! Is that really his weakness?! It's ridiculous and so humiliating for him!

Panah followed Elsie in her laughter.

-Honestly, it makes everyone laugh too! But I promise you he'll let his guard down if you give him one. He can't help having one in his mouth all the time. Here, give him one when he's done. I'm sure he won't be able to refuse.

-What?! Do I have to go back? But what do I tell him?

-Hmm…

Panah ponders.

-You said you wanted to learn how to fight, right?

-Exactly… I always wanted to learn, but my parents always refused…

-Very good! There's your opportunity! Ask him to forge some weapons for you to train with. If you have a good reason to talk to him, he won't turn you down."

Panah patted her on the shoulder and Elsie nodded, taking the lollipop in hand. She'd never tasted one, but it sounded delicious. Panah moved slowly closer, whispering with a wink:

"Besides, it's the last apple lollipop…! Tell him that."

They exchanged a laugh, and went their separate ways.

Cassius looked disappointed when he saw that Elsie was coming back to see him. Hadn't he made himself clear? He didn't want to see anyone, and certainly not her. He saw her as a child who wanted to make friends with everyone by coming up to him every day. That kind of person, he met a lot of them.

"I'm back!

Elsie shouted.

-Unfortunately.

At least that's an honest reaction.

-Can I… Help you with anything?

Elsie was desperate to try a rapprochement, with no sweets involved to begin with.

-Yeah, I need a favor."

Elsie's eyes widened victoriously. Had she already succeeded in befriending him? He's about to ask her for a favor!

"Yes, of course!

Elsie jumped for joy.

-See that place over there?

Cassius pointed to the cliff in the distance.

-Can you go see if I'm there? Just in case."

Disappointment. Elsie didn't know what was keeping her from sticking it to him. His insolence was unbearable!

"Haha, very funny. I've come to see you so you can forge me a weapon."

Cassius raised an eyebrow. Her? Weapons? Was she really planning to learn how to fight with a weapon?

"Sorry I don't have the tools to make children's toys.

-Hey, I'm not a child!"

Elsie hates it when people treat her like a kid. She's so much more than that! Admittedly, she lacks a little maturity, and her appearance is very childish…

"I think you're a kid. How tall are you? Like 1m20? You're tall for a 7 years old.

-I'm 1m52! Are you kidding me, I'm 18!

-It's the same. Anyway, you're not going to be able to carry much with your skinny arms.

-I've tried double daggers before, and I'm pretty good with them!

-Hmm hmm."

This is it, the moment. Time to exploit her weakness. Elsie took the lollipop out of her pocket, but kept it hidden in her hand.

"I've got something for you.

A grin appeared on Elsie's face.

-Hmm hmm.

He continued to raise and lower his arm repeatedly on the anvil.

-The last apple lollipop"

Cassius stopped tapping his anvil very briefly. Elsie had just caught his eye. Out of embarrassment that she'd noticed his interest, he continued tapping as if he'd heard nothing. But Elsie had clearly seen his reaction.

"I'll give it to you if -

-I don't want it."

She was speechless. That technique hadn't worked. Yet Panah had told her it would be a success! Maybe Cassius really does hate her, after all….

"You know what? I'm outta here. And I'm going to eat that last lollipop. Too bad for you.

-I'm not a dog you tame by feeding it. I don't like it when people in the camp do that to me. And I like it even less coming from a stranger."

The plan ended in failure. Elsie tucked the lollipop away in her pocket to eat later. She returned to her tent.

The next day, as usual, the group gathered around the fire for breakfast. Elsie noticed that Cassius was not present. What does it matter? It's better for her not to see him.

She got to know the other members, all of whom were nicer than one another. She really felt she belonged here. People saw her as she was, and not as a ranch kid who played pranks on everyone. She thought back to Sandrock; her family, her friends… She missed them all. But she swore she'd come back, once she felt ready. Ready to take responsibility for her actions, to face her mother and father, to apologize for her mistakes and behaviour. She wants to be someone else, so her parents can be proud of her.

Once breakfast was over, Panah asked Elsie to meet her in a few hours at the training area, to teach her how to fight. But she… She has no weapons! Cassius refused to forge them for her. Her first thought was to go and see him.

She didn't have time to get to the forge before she bumped into Cassius on the way. He stopped in front of her and handed her some double daggers. He had never looked more imposing than at that moment. It was the first time she'd seen him standing, and… He's a giant. He's probably at least six feet tall. His eyes stared intently at her, always with an air of disinterest. She couldn't help lowering her eyes to his torso. He was as tall as he was wide… He was so muscular that she wondered what it felt like to touch those muscles. She quickly looked up into his eyes to avoid appearing impolite.

"But… I thought you didn't want-

-I refused at the moment because I wanted you to leave me alone. And to show you that you can't buy people with gifts. But I was going to forge these daggers anyway. That's my job."

Elsie gripped the daggers. They were light, and perfectly sharp. She couldn't help but jump for joy! She stopped moving, and took yesterday's lollipop out of her pocket. To tell the truth… She was planning to give it to him today, rather than eat it.

"Here. Thank you.

-What's this doing here? I thought you-

-That I ate it? No. I just said that out of anger. And I may have left it in my pocket. Are we even?"

Cassius retrieved the lollipop and nodded his thanks. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, before leaving. Panah arrived just then:

"I see it worked?

-Yes, it did. Not the way you told me, but… It worked.

-You know, he… He spent the night on those double daggers.

Elsie opened her mouth wide, dazed.

-What? But I'd have known if he'd worked on them, my tent's right next to the forge!

-He moved the anvil and his equipment further away so the noise wouldn't wake you up. You know, he's the best blacksmith in the camp, and one of the best I've ever known. He does an excellent job, and quickly too."

Panah winked at her before leaving. Elsie couldn't help but let out a sigh followed by a laugh. She was really struggling to understand Cassius's behavior. Maybe he's not as mean and intimidating as he seems.

Next chapter <-

[much-the-millers-kid]

I work for a small town newspaper.

We're owned by a parent company that's known for being fairly liberal, but honestly we try to keep it as neutral as possible. We try to avoid talking about politics, focusing more on local groups and schools and things that are pretty non-controversial, and when we do have to post politics, we try to be as equal and fair as possible, leaning a little conservative simply because that's what sells around here.

This morning, I got an email from our publisher who is in charge of multiple papers in the area. Trump has suggested violence against the press and "Fake News" at one of his rallies. In the name of safety, we're staying closed this week.

I'm not sure yet if I'm allowed to work from home the rest of this week since most of our people who come in are elderly folks dropping off their checks, but for now I'm thankful for tinted windows allowing me to pretend that I'm not here. I'm working on crafting a sign to put on the door trying to make us being closed as non-politically reasonable as I can, probably some fluff about being out in the field covering stuff in-person.

I feel like a hostage in a movie with a weapon pointed at me with my captor telling people "Do what I say or they get it." I'm terrified for the potential riots over the next week if Trump loses, but I'm even more terrified of the long-term effects if he wins.

I feel like people may go "You knew what you were getting into as a journalist," but honestly? No. I just needed a job, and I could write decently well. Most of what I cover is fundraisers, street fairs, and school events. I am not a political reporter, yet I'm still afraid.

I can only imagine the fear of reporters in Gaza who did agree to cover dangerous situations with a target on their back. I even feel bad posting about this fear over a threat that may or may not happen when there's millions of posts about people trying to flee ongoing bombings for safety.

I don't know why exactly I'm making this post. To vent? To encourage others to vote? To say what I wish I could to my neighbors to convince them to vote blue, but I can't attach my name for my own safety? I don't know.

Just, if you're undecided or you think both are equally bad, think about who is more likely to incite violent riots if they lose. Protect yourself in the coming days, and check in on those around you.